Caterina looked over at Deputy Chief Schiavone, who was stroking the girl’s hair. She couldn’t say why, maybe it was that gesture, the words that she’d heard, the joint that she’d smoked, but something happened in the center of her chest. She didn’t know if the lurch she felt was the result of some emotion or a simple heart flutter. She smiled and discovered that a tear was welling up in her right eye. She quickly wiped it away. It might have been due to a surge of emotion, or it might have been some component in the marijuana that she was allergic to.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING, SIR?” CATERINA ASKED THE INSTANT Rocco stopped the car outside the deputy inspector’s apartment building.

“I still have a visit to pay. You should get home, the working day’s over.”

Caterina looked at the apartment building’s front door. “How do you know that this is where I live?”

“I’ve been following you for months,” Rocco replied seriously.

At first, Caterina turned pale; then she got the joke and smiled. “Then you no doubt know that I go to bed late . . .”

Why did you say that? Caterina asked herself. What got into your head? Have you lost your mind? Are you flirting with him?

A series of thoughts that followed one after the other at the speed of light, but the inappropriate phrase had already left her lips.

“I didn’t know that you had a hard time getting to sleep. You need to find someone to keep you company.”

Caterina looked Rocco in the eyes.

Oh my God, is he about to try something? she thought in horror.

“Go on, Caterì . . . Otherwise we’ll wind up falling asleep right here in the car.”

The young woman nodded. Smiled. Opened the car door and got out. Rocco accelerated and tore out of there, tires screeching. He didn’t even stop to check whether or not she had her house keys. And that lack of gentlemanly attention bothered her. But then, as she inserted her key in the lock, she felt a swirl of confusion.

I’m a cop, I’m his professional partner, I’m not a woman that he’s just taken home after going out to dinner together, she said to herself.

But you’re still a woman, aren’t you?

You can’t just decide you’re a cop or woman according to which comes in handy.

The thing is, you’re both.

All right, then, let’s get one thing clear: with him I’m a cop.

Wrong!

Finding herself torn between such opposing thoughts, slapped from one side to another by her own considerations, was proving to be more tiring than the workday itself.