“Look, I’m not a racist,” Coletti said, shifting his gaze from Mann to Lynch and back. “But I shouldn’t have said what I said, and I’m man enough to admit I was wrong.”

Clearly, Mann wasn’t prepared to accept Coletti’s apology. It was Lynch who broke the silence.

“Everything isn’t always what it seems, Detective Mann. If you’re gonna be a good cop, you need to learn that.”

“Not from him,” Mann said, staring angrily at Coletti.

“Oh, I think he’ll be a fine teacher,” Lynch said. “That’s why I’ve decided to make the two of you partners. Mann, you’ll make your appearance in DPR. After that, you’ll work with Coletti. He’s gonna share all the lessons he learned back when he was the young hotshot, and before he retires, he’s gonna show you what it takes to be the top detective in this unit.”

“And if I don’t?” Coletti said.

“Somebody might lose your paperwork. I’ve heard pensions get held up for years when that happens.”

Coletti was speechless as the commissioner turned to Mann and Smithson.

“You two need to get up to internal affairs now, and I need to get to a press conference about the shooting.”

Lynch started down the hall, then stopped and turned around. “I almost forgot, Coletti. I heard they rejected Father O’Reilly’s appeal. I know you’ll be glad when that’s finally over.”

Coletti watched as Lynch walked to his press conference. A second later, Mann headed up to internal affairs. Coletti didn’t notice that Smithson was still standing there. He couldn’t. The commissioner’s mention of the Confessional Murders had taken him back to the nightmare from that morning.

“Are you all right?” Smithson asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, but the thin film of sweat on his suddenly pallid face said otherwise.

Her eyebrows crinkled as her eyes moved from his chest to his face. “You don’t look so hot.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said sarcastically.

Smithson chuckled. “Just calling it like I see it.”

“Well, I wish you wouldn’t see it so clearly,” he said. “It’s bad for my ego.”

She smiled, and as Coletti tried to think of a way to end the conversation without making a fool of himself, she said something he didn’t expect.

“Listen, I’ve got to go up to give my statement about this morning. But since we’ve both had a bit of a rough day, I was thinking we could take a walk down to Second Street after work.”

Coletti looked at her quizzically. “For what?”

“I heard there were good exhibits here, and I’ve always wanted to see them. We don’t really have many art galleries in upstate Pennsylvania, and it’d be great if—”

“I’m not really the art gallery type,” Coletti said, turning to walk away from her.