“How did you get into law enforcement?”

“Gina was a dispatcher with the Columbus PD. I finally landed a job waiting tables at a pancake house. At night, she’d come home and tell me about her day. I thought she had the most exciting job in the world. I wanted a job like hers. So I went back to school, earned my GED. A month later, she got me a job as a dispatcher at a substation near downtown. That fall, we enrolled in a criminal justice program at the community college. A year later, we were in the academy.”

He stared at her, realizing he was getting caught up in this. Getting caught up in her. Not a good frame of mind for a man who would be leaving in a few hours.

“What about you, Tomasetti?”

“I came out of the womb corrupted.”

Laughing, she reached for the pack of cigarettes. John wasn’t sure why it pleased him when she lit up. Maybe because it made her more human, a little less perfect and a tad closer to his own tarnished soul.

“So what did you do before you were a cop?” she asked.

“I was always a cop.” He rolled his shoulders to ease some of the tension creeping up the back of his neck. “I think this is where you’re supposed to ask me about what happened in Cleveland.”

“I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would.”

She didn’t look away. That impressed him. Probably more than he would ever be able to tell her. “How much do you know?” he asked.

“The media version. I know they usually don’t get it right.”

“It’s an ugly story, Kate.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

For the first time in his life, he did. Kate had given him something he hadn’t had for a long time: hope. Made him realize he might not need the alcohol and pills to get through the day. The time had come to lance the boil, let the demons out, start the healing process. “Do you know who Con Vespian is?”

“Every cop in the state knows about Vespian. Cleveland’s version of John Gotti.”

“With a little Charles Manson mixed in.”

“Narcotics. Prostitution. Gambling.”

“He had his fingers in a lot of pies, but he dealt mostly in heroin. Big time stuff, including murder when it was convenient. Worse when he wanted to make a point. Vespian and I go way back to when I was a street cop. I busted him twice. He got off both times. Every narc in the city had a hard-on for him. But he was one lucky son of a bitch. Dangerous, too, because he was half fucking crazy.”

“Bad combination.”

“He got off on beating the system. I wanted to be the one to bring him down. Somewhere along the line, it got personal.”

Her expression sobered, and John could tell she knew the story was about to take a dark twist. “My partner was an old-timer by the name of Vic Niswander. Great guy. Good cop. Funny as hell in a politically incorrect way. Just became a grandpa. Four months away from retirement. We used to kid around about it, but he wanted to get Vespian before he left.”