“Not unless it affected your job.”

“Which it did.”

“Of course it did,” Farrah said, her voice so abruptly sharp that Mercy flinched. “You were abducted by a freaking serial killer, Mercy. You almost died.”

The tears of anguish in Farrah’s eyes kept Mercy from taking offense at her tone. “But I didn’t. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not okay, you stubborn thing.” Farrah brushed a trembling hand back over her hair, the close-cut natural style that framed her face so well. “Just because you weren’t physically injured doesn’t mean you’re okay. Plus, Detective Sokolov was injured and he did almost die. It was a trauma.” She pressed her fingers to her lips as she visibly fought for composure. “I almost lost you,” she added in a devastated whisper.

Mercy didn’t want to think about it. Not now. If she allowed herself to remember the ordeal, she might turn around and run for the nearest plane out of Sacramento. “I thought if I just worked and kept to my routine, that I’d get through it. It’s worked before.”

Farrah’s voice was back to quiet. Soothing. “It worked before because you were also seeing a therapist.”

“And I have to do that, too,” Mercy admitted. “My supervisors said that no one blamed me for my mistake, and that they wanted me back, but that a therapist would have to sign off on my state of mind.”

Farrah squeezed her arm. “Are you okay with this?”

Mercy shrugged. “I have to be. It’s a reasonable requirement. Plus, I love my job and they were actually really nice about it all. I think I was harder on myself.”

“No,” Farrah drawled dryly. “Say it ain’t so.”

Mercy’s lips curved. “It ain’t so.”

“And you are a lying McLiarface who lies.”

Mercy snorted. “You’ve been babysitting your nephews recently, haven’t you?”

“I have.” Farrah set the cat carrier on the floor, enveloping Mercy in a hard hug. “It was like a wake-up call for you, huh?”

And how. Mercy nodded miserably against Farrah’s shoulder. “Yeah. I realized that I could have sent an innocent man to prison and . . . I kind of fell apart. I had to come clean.”

“Of course you did. You are a good person, Mercy Callahan.”

Mercy wasn’t so sure about that. She’d done some pretty awful things. But you’re here to make amends, she thought, and therefore didn’t argue. “When the bosses gave me two months of leave, I decided I had to face what happened in California.”

Farrah pulled away, her expression wary. “In California? You mean in Sacramento? Or . . .”

Farrah knew of Mercy’s history in California—her most recent brush with danger in Sacramento back in February, but also the childhood she’d spent in fear in the northernmost part of the state. Farrah was the only one who did know all the details, except for the new piece of information that had left Mercy reeling, adrift, and fleeing for home. Mercy hadn’t shared it with anyone. She hadn’t completely processed it herself yet.