Bailey didn’t seem perturbed as he said, “Once you’ve hit thirty-three years on the force, you come find my grave and tell me you don’t know the exact day you’ll be retiring.”

Larkin frowned, narrowed his eyes, and looked over his shoulder at Doyle.

Doyle nodded and answered Larkin’s confused expression. “He’s joking. Did you need something, Craig?”

“SVU’s got a vic down at Presbyterian. Female student at Pace University left her campus residence to go on a jog a little over an hour ago, was grabbed from behind, dragged into that construction zone—you know the high rise I’m talking about?—and raped. Guy ran, but she says she got a good look at him. I know you’re working with Cold Cases right now, but Loving called out sick and I’ve got a meeting with the brass upstairs.”

Larkin turned to Doyle a second time. “I have plenty of phone calls to make.”

“Are you sure?”

“An assault takes precedence.”

Doyle stood from the desk, towering over Larkin in a single, fluid motion. “It should only be a few hours. I can meet up with you after I finish.”

Larkin nodded.

Bailey gave a thumbs-up. “Thanks, Doyle.” He stepped out of the threshold, leaving the door open.

Larkin started for the door too, but then Doyle called, “See you later, Butch.”

Turning, Larkin watched Doyle shove supplies into his portfolio bag before offering a playful grin. And hesitantly, because nicknames, even in jest, always felt so odd to say, Larkin replied, “See you later, Sundance.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The atmosphere of Precinct 19 was typical of a weekday morning. Some beat cop had brewed a full pot of Maxwell House instead of Folgers, which Larkin could detect not only by the slight variance in the scent that lingered over the second-floor bullpen, but also because he’d reached the landing just as Jim Porter had finished shouting, “How can you mix the two up? It has a jingle, man! The best part of wakin’ up is Folgers in your goddamn cup!”

“I don’t believe that’s word-for-word accurate,” Larkin said as he took off his suit coat and draped it over the back of his chair.

Porter had growled at him in response.