Popeye was under the covers, between Hammer’s feet.

“I’ve caused harm. I should never have come here. I bet you wish you still lived in Charlotte where you had a yard, don’t you?”

Her eyes filled with tears. Popeye burrowed up to her and licked her face. Hammer couldn’t remember the last time she had cried. She had been so stoical when Seth had died because she believed she had to be. She had been rational about the reasons her sons did not seem to want to see her. Hammer had been courageous, innovative, community-minded. All of it so she would be too busy to be lonely, and it hadn’t worked. She got up and dressed.

There was no answer at Brazil’s house when Hammer called from her car phone. She tried West next and was relieved that he and West were there.

“I’ve got something important to say to both of you,” Hammer said over the line.

Parking in the Fan wasn’t as much of a problem at this early hour, and she managed to squeeze into a space on the curb right across the street from West’s town house. Hammer was numb. She did not feel present, nor did she want to be when Brazil opened the front door.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Hammer said to Brazil as they walked into the living room.

“Thank you,” he replied. “It’s kind of messy.”

Hammer didn’t care. She didn’t even notice her surroundings, messy or not. She sat in a straight-back chair while West and Brazil sat across from her on the couch.

“Virginia, Andy,” she began, “I’m going to resign.”

“Oh God,” West said, shocked.

“You can’t,” Brazil said, sick.

“Basically,” Hammer went on, “I’ve pretty much screwed up everything here. I used to be a good police officer, a good chief. Everybody hates us.”

“Not everybody,” Brazil said.

“Most of them,” said West. “I mean, let’s be honest about it.”

“Well, I guess the Charlotte connection doesn’t help,” Brazil supposed.

“Or our locking up the COMSTAT network pretty much around the globe,” Hammer said.

“Or our failure to crack the ATM cases before they progressed to a horrible murder. Or a communications officer getting in a fight with a traffic cop, both of whom had just received commendations several days before.” West helped her out with the list.

Hammer folded her hands in her lap and kept them still. She did not interrupt. She did not get up and pace.

“Judy,” West said. “Where are you going to go? Back to Charlotte?”

Hammer shook her head.

“Nowhere,” she answered. “If I can’t handle Richmond, I’m not going to be able to handle someplace else. When the horse dies, get off. I’m retiring from police work. I don’t know where I’ll live. It doesn’t matter.”

“That reminds me,” West said. “We need to talk about the Azalea Parade.”

“How did what she just said remind you of that?” Brazil asked.

“The horse comment. We’ve got mounted cops in the parade,” West said. “And”—she looked at Hammer—“Andy and I are supposed to ride in your convertible.”