She bent to pet him, and as she stroked the soft fur her inner turmoil eased, just as it had before. It was truly amazing, the effect he had.

“Thank you, my furry therapist,” she said softly.

He made a tiny little sound that still seemed worried, as if he wished he could do more. Deciding she was carrying the anthropomorphizing a bit too far, she headed for the door. Her inner turmoil had indeed eased, but it didn’t change the decision she’d made. She couldn’t move on until she at least tried to make this right.

But she couldn’t do it if she couldn’t find Adam.

Hayley was on her laptop at the kitchen counter.

“Do you know where Adam is?” she asked without preamble.

Hayley met her gaze, not looking in the least surprised at either her abrupt words or her rather fierce tone.

“Hopefully asleep.”

Amanda blinked; she hadn’t expected that. “Asleep?”

“He’s been taking the night shift outside.”

She truly hadn’t expected that. “Outside? At night? It’s December.”

“He pretty much insisted. And Quinn let him, because he got the feeling Adam has something to prove.”

“He doesn’t need to prove anything to me,” Amanda said. “Not anymore. I know the truth now.”

“So Quinn said. That you didn’t, I mean.” Hayley studied her for a moment. And then, softly, she said, “I don’t think it’s you Adam needs to prove it to.”

“Then who does—” She broke off her own words as Hayley’s meaning got through. “Himself.”

“Exactly.”

This further proof that Adam blamed himself as much as she ever had jabbed at her like a serrated blade. She wondered if he ever would have felt that way if she hadn’t lost it and screamed at him that night in the hospital. Oh, she was sure he would have felt a certain amount of responsibility—any cop who lost a partner did—but to blame himself entirely? Had that been her brutal gift to him as he’d already been facing so much?

“I need to talk to him,” she said. “I owe him a...very large apology.”

Again Hayley showed no surprise. Had she expected this, or was she just that unflappable? She was married to Quinn after all, so the latter seemed entirely possible.

“Do you want to wake him up?”

She thought of the last two nights, when it had been down into the midthirties. He’d really been outside in that, watching over her?

“Not if he’s someplace warm,” she said, with a hint of the self-disgust she was feeling.

She would have to wait until tonight, she thought. But she couldn’t let it go any longer. It was eating at her in a much different, harsher way than her anger ever had, for this was her failing and she needed to make it right.