After a few pleasantries and casual mentions of the weather, he asks me why I’m looking for Dockery. I’m here because he used to be good friends with Nicholas back when they were friends and their lives took different paths. But looking into Officer Inglese’s earnest eyes right now, I decide to go on a whim and tell him about Nicholas’ situation and how we could prove his innocence and another man’s guilt if only the prosecutor got off his ass and did his job.

Officer Inglese listens and nods and then looks away briefly. What is going on here? I think to myself. Why is he acting like this?

“So is Officer Dockery here?” I ask. “I know that he and Nicholas were really close and I thought that maybe there was something he could do.”

Officer Inglese shakes his head and looks down at the floor. “There’s nothing he can do,” he finally says.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Dockery is dead,” he adds quietly. I stare at him, not quite processing what he has just told me.

“He was shot and killed about two weeks ago.”

“I'm so sorry,” I whisper.

“Are you, really?” His eyes flash in anger.

“Yes, of course.”

“Yeah, I wonder about that.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting back in the chair.

“Well, he was still hard at work on the case of the man who went missing from your apartment, remember him?” he asks. Shivers run down my spine.

Of course, I remember. How could I ever forget?

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” I say after a moment.

“My partner had that case in the trunk of his car when he was killed and his car was set on fire. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

I shake my head. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“He suspected that something bad happened to that guy in your apartment and you and your boyfriend and brother covered it up.”

“No, that’s not what happened,” I lie through my teeth. I look him straight in the eye and refuse to look away.

“Inglese, what are you doing?” Another cop approaches us.

I glance down at my hand and hide it under my thigh as soon as I see how much it’s shaking.

“I'm sorry,” the cop says to me. “He is still quite distraught over what happened to Dockery but he, along with everyone else here, knows that he was shot by a stupid fifteen-year-old out on a joy ride who then set his car on fire to cover up the evidence.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“I am really sorry for your loss,” I say to both Officer Inglese and the other cop. Only the cop whose name I don’t know acknowledges my statement with a nod.