Lansdown had started screaming yes before Foley finished the question.

Instead of lifting his foot, though, Foley rocked forward, transferring more of his weight, and Lansdown’s scream rose in pitch.

“And if I ever hear you talk like that again, to anybody, I’ll rip you a new asshole so big you’ll need a zipper when you fart. Understand that?”

Lansdown was doing so much screaming and writhing it was hard to tell if he understood anything, but Foley let a moment pass and then returned to the supervisor’s desk. Somers caught his gaze and held it, and after a moment, Foley blushed.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Foley mumbled. “But these new assholes are embarrassing the whole department.”

Somers just held his gaze; Foley broke first, looking away.

“They said they just wanted to ask him a few questions,” Foley said in that same small voice.

Somers waited. Russell and the new guy were helping Lansdown out of the room; all three of them were shooting hard looks at Somers and Foley. Somers didn’t bother acknowledging them.

“You know what it’s like when you’re young,” Foley said. “You and I, we did stupid stuff too. I thought they just wanted a little fun.”

“Never again, Patrick.”

“I know.”

“I’m serious.”

“I fucked up. I know I did. I won’t do it twice.”

After another moment, Somers nodded and stood. He took a step toward the door and then stopped. Special Agent Tracy Park stood in the doorway, dressed in a black suit, her shield hanging around her neck and her service weapon holstered at her waist. Her black hair was heavy with gray and cut in a simple bob, but her face was young; if she used cosmetics, she didn’t use much.

Her gaze went from Foley to Somers to the cell.

“What’s going on back here?”

“Nothing, Agent Park. Just having a conversation.”

“One of your colleagues just got into a car; he’s going to get stitches. Was that just a conversation?”

“Wesley,” Somers called. “You want to chip in?”

Shuffling movement came from the cell, and then Wesley stood at the door. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit now, and the color clashed with his ginger hair. He’d obviously been crying.

“They were just talking,” Wesley said in a rough voice.

“Just shooting the bull,” Foley said.

Park’s eyes zagged from Wesley back to Somers. “Do I need to worry about a suspect in police custody?”

“Patrick?” Somers said.

“He’s safe as a babe in arms.”

“There you go,” Somers said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to follow up on a witness statement. One of the second-shift workers at the Tegula plant mentioned an unfamiliar car in the lot.”

Park’s expression didn’t change, but she said, “If she works second shift, maybe it’s better to wait. Let her get a few hours of sleep.”

“The wheels of justice, you know,” Somers said. “Excuse me.”

But when he left the jail and moved toward the exit, he heard Park behind him.