He told her: Dulac’s obsession with Somers, his unexplained disappearance, the PIN on the computer, the search results, and finding Kleinheider dead, with Dulac’s business card on the ground next to him. Thompson interjected from time to time, weaving a web of protective allegedly and might have and it is possible that around Hazard’s statements.

Hazard had barely finished when Park shot out of her seat, moving toward the door. She was already pulling out her phone, tapping at the screen.

“That clears John, right?” Hazard said. “He didn’t have anything to do with that stuff.”

“The best thing you can do for your fiancé right now, Mr. Hazard, is convince him to surrender himself. If he comes in, we can protect him, and we can get to the bottom of this. If he stays out there—well, there are a lot of ways things can go wrong.” She held the phone to her ear as she left the interview room, already speaking quietly into it: “I want everything Golden City has on the murder of a man named Kleinheider . . .”

After a moment, Hazard looked at Thompson, who was packing up her notes.

“I know you won’t like to hear it,” Thompson said, “but I think that went as well as it could have. We know why they think Detective Somerset was involved with those drugs and with the Keeper killings, and we have a viable alternate explanation. Now it’s time to start digging: we look for security footage from the station, from places they ate lunch—any chance you have a security camera aimed at your trash? Someone might have picked through the garbage to get those baggies.”

Hazard barely heard her; he shook his head.

“Too bad,” Thompson said. “The next thing we’ll do is start pulling character witnesses. Everybody who worked on the force with him.”

To his own surprise, Hazard laughed. “They’re all dead. Or they’re in disgrace. Or they’re in prison.”

Thompson’s beads clicked as she stood. “That’s an exaggeration. Let’s go.”

“I’m going to stay and talk to Glenn.”

“Ok. I need to make a few calls—”

“No, you don’t have to stay. Whatever happens with Glenn, you can’t help me there.”

“I’m not convinced about that,” Thompson said. “Frankly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

“The only thing you need to worry about is that I might murder my future father-in-law. You can go.” His gaze refocused on the water bottle, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. “Thank you.”

She touched his shoulder and left.

For a while, the normal sounds of the station filled the emptiness: the coffee maker’s percolating, the microwave’s whir and beep, the copier’s thrum-whoosh, the fax machine’s screech. Shoes clicked toward the interview room and stopped

Hazard opened his eyes and saw Carmichael. The detective’s features were pinched, and she stood with her hands on her waist, trying to give him what she probably considered a deadly look.

“You know him,” Hazard said. “You ought to be fucking ashamed of yourself.”