“Your brother’s girlfriend,” Farrah said conversationally, but every mention of Gideon was said with care, like she expected Mercy to bolt. Or faint dead away.

Neither was out of the realm of possibility at the moment.

“Yes. I like Daisy. She’s artsy and fun.” But the woman had experienced her own share of heartache and Mercy felt a kinship that she wished she could have further explored. Now’s your chance, Callahan. You’re back. You can do all the things you wish you’d done when you were here six weeks ago.

Things like having a heart-to-heart with Gideon. Like begging for his forgiveness.

Gideon loves you. You know that. But it was a lot for anyone to forgive. She wouldn’t blame Gideon if he couldn’t. Still, she needed to make that right, too.

“Daisy’s such a cute name. I can’t wait to meet her,” Farrah was saying warmly. “So if Rafe has taken Daisy’s apartment, where does she live?”

“On the top floor. They just switched. Rafe’s sister Sasha rents the middle floor.”

“And that’s where we’re going to stay?”

“For a few days.” She patted Rory’s carrier. “Until I find an extended-stay hotel that takes cats.”

Farrah studied her as they walked. “Extended? Exactly how long is ‘extended’?”

Mercy bit at her lip. “I don’t know. I have . . . some time off.”

“How much time off?”

Mercy braced herself for Farrah’s reaction. “Two months.”

Farrah stopped walking, staring at Mercy in stunned disbelief. “Two months? How?” She pulled Mercy’s arm so that they were against the wall, out of the traffic flow. “How did you get two months of vacation?”

Breathe in and out. Nice and easy. “It’s not vacation. I’m on leave. Personal leave.” And I’m lucky to have it, she told herself for the hundredth time.

Worry clouded her friend’s brown eyes. “You never mentioned requesting leave.”

“Because I didn’t.” Mercy leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. “I effed up. At work.”

“Oh, honey,” Farrah murmured. “What happened?”

“It was after that CNN special interview on Monday night. I got distracted. Mixed up some test samples.”

Farrah’s indrawn breath said all that she didn’t. Mixing up samples in Mercy’s line of work was a big deal. A very big deal. She held people’s futures in her hands. Their innocence or guilt often rested on the results of the DNA analysis she ran for the New Orleans PD. I could have ruined an innocent man.

“I figured it out, though,” Mercy added, “after I’d run both samples. I was able to correct the first report before the DA could use it to file charges. I told my supervisor, and he and his supervisor called me into a meeting Thursday afternoon. I thought I was getting fired.” Mercy opened her eyes to find Farrah’s full of compassion and concern. “I’m lucky that I ’fessed up and that it was my first mistake. They said that they knew I’d been under a lot of pressure and that they wished they’d encouraged me to take leave when I first came back from Sacramento.” When she’d first run away from Gideon—and Rafe—only to hide her head in the sand. “But they couldn’t.”