Andrick unlocked his file cabinet and loosened his tie. Decker noticed he was breathing heavily, sweat stained his armpits.

“You okay?” Decker asked.

Andrick said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You don’t look so hot.”

“I said I’m okay,” Andrick answered tightly.

“Fine,” Decker said. “You’re okay. Can I see the file?”

Andrick tossed him the folder. Decker read a moment, then said, “The ambulance took the girl. Who took Atwater to the hospital?”

“I don’t remember,” Andrick said. “Someone must have called another, because they didn’t put the two of them in the same wagon.”

“Nobody was tending to Atwater’s head wound all this time?” Decker asked.

“Look,” Andrick said, unbuttoning his shirt, “you got a victim, you got a perp. One ambulance. You’re gonna lose some sleep because some rape-o asshole bled to death?”

“No.” Decker scanned the file. “You heard him say this? Or is this what the uniforms reported that he said?”

“Nope,” Andrick said. “Everything I wrote down in my notes, I heard with my own ears…. What exactly did I write?”

Decker read, “‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.’”

Andrick said, “Yeah, I heard him say that. Those kind of statements don’t do much to clear your good name. Is it hot in here?”

“A little,” Decker said absently. Lost in thought, he remembered Abel uttering similar words before. One particular memory suddenly flooded Decker’s consciousness. Heavy fire. A gutted village. A little girl around six, her belly blown away. Abel standing over her, his eyes watering from all the smoke. He had whispered it:

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt anybody, honest to God, I didn’t.

Ugly recollections. He pushed them away and looked up at Andrick. His coloring had become pale, his skin pasty, dripping with sweat.

“Jesus!” Decker whispered. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“A minute.” Andrick looked around. Medino had gone to the john. It was safe. He yanked open his desk drawer, and with shaking hands opened a vial of tablets. He placed a pill underneath his tongue.

A minute later, Decker said, “How long do you think you can hide your condition from the department?”

“What condition?” Andrick said. “I’m sucking on a peppermint.”

“A peppermint?”

“Yeah, a fucking peppermint,” Andrick said. “Keeps my breath fresh…. Look, Detective, I’ve got two more years before I cash in twenty-five big ones and a nice-size pension. We’ve got the condo in Murietta Hot Springs, two daughters in college, I need that extra ten percent to make ends meet, you know what I’m saying? So if you want to talk about the case, that’s all right by me. If not, find the door.”