“I wouldn’t want to ruin my bad-boy reputation,” he said. He rubbed his jaw with his hand, and Archie thought he detected a hint of disappointment. Leo wanted Archie to tell Susan he was DEA. He wanted her to know. Leo was one of the agency’s most valuable assets. An insider who’d wanted out of his family by the time he was in college, who’d come to Archie for help, and whom Archie had sent to the DEA, which had in turn talked Leo into staying. Archie always suspected that Leo hated him a little for that.

“Your bad-boy reputation is intact,” Archie said. Susan could never find out. They both knew that. There was too much at stake.

“I heard you saved her life.”

“We trade off,” Archie said.

“I’m serious about her.” Leo looked down at the bouquet in his hands. “I feel like I should ask your permission.”

Archie liked Leo. It complicated things. Deep cover came with a cost. Leo hated his father, but he didn’t seem to mind the drugs and women and expensive suits. “You have a dangerous life,” Archie said.

Leo met Archie’s gaze. “So do you.”

Archie could feel the weight of something pass between them. “I’m not sleeping with her,” Archie said.

Leo raised his eyebrow.

Archie felt flustered. “I have to get going,” he said.

“Me, too,” Leo said.

They headed in separate directions—Archie to the ICU, Leo toward Susan’s room, the roses tucked under his arm.

Chapter 65

CHAPTER

65

One week later

Gloria Larson opened her apartment door wearing a dark blue fleece robe over a light blue flannel nightgown, white socks, and slippers that looked hand-knit.

“It’s good to see you again,” Archie said.

“Wipe your feet,” Gloria said.

It had stopped raining three days before. The floodwater downtown had receded, leaving billions in damage. Archie’s Cutlass had been found four blocks from where he had left it. Patrick Lifton was back in Aberdeen, sleeping in his own bed, playing with his dog, and embarking on what would probably be a lifetime of therapy.

Archie’s and Susan’s shoes were dry. But they wiped them anyway.

“Sit down,” she said. And they took a seat on the couch.

The TV was off. Archie was grateful. He’d had enough local news. Enough aerial shots of floating cars. Enough of reporters wading through water to show how deep it was. Enough hypothesizing about Elroy Carey’s motives.

Gloria set a cup of tea in front of him. “Chamomile,” she said. “Your favorite. Let it steep,” she said. Then she went back for a cup for Susan and set it down in front of her. “Peppermint,” she said.

“McBee’s first name,” Susan said. “Was it Elroy?”

“Elroy McBee,” Gloria said slowly, as if she were trying it out. She brought her gaze back to Susan and patted her on the knee. “You know about the Vanport flood?”