“It sounds like you think everyone’s lying. Everyone except the guy accused of murder, that is.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that happened, would it?”

“Aifric . . .” Of course, this had to be about Séan. Wasn’t everything, at the end of the day?

“All right. Look. I’m not saying anyone’s lying. That’s not the point. But if you think our brother was the only innocent person thrown in jail in the history of Ireland, then you’re kidding yourself.”

Carrie shook her head. “I’m not going to fight with you about this.” It was old ground. Painful ground. They each knew the other’s arguments by heart. “I want to talk to you about what happened this evening.”

Aifric sighed theatrically. “About your friends, you mean. Okay. I’m sorry. I could have been a bit more diplomatic.”

“That’s the understatement of the year. Seriously, you can’t do that again.”

Aifric opened her mouth to object, but Carrie talked across her. She wasn’t going to back down this time.

“You can’t,” Carrie said. “You may not like them. You don’t have to like them. But this is my career, and getting on with the lads, that’s part of my job. I put up with your shitty no-wage.”

“Ah, come on . . .”

“No, I do, Aifric. I pay most of the rent, because not getting paid for half the work you do somehow makes sense in your world. Well, in my world, getting on with people is what I have to do if I want to make sergeant. I’ll be in the SDU by Christmas, if everything goes my way. But I need to make friends and keep them if I want to do well. And if that means having the lads over for a beer every now and again, well, then you’re just going to have to live with it, or we’re going to have to move out and find our own places. Share with other people.”

Carrie steeled herself for the explosion as Aifric’s expression darkened, but silence sat between them for a long moment, and the explosion never came. Aifric dropped her gaze.

“Fair enough. I suppose I’ll live with it.” She stood up. “I’m going to find you some pain meds. Are you sore? You should get in the bath. Or go to bed. It’s getting late.”

Carrie didn’t move from the couch while her sister rummaged around and found the box of painkillers, then delivered them to her with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” she said.

Aifric started to gather up their dishes.

It was as close to an apology as Carrie was likely to get.

“Aifric . . .”

Aifric stilled, looked at her. After a moment, she let out a heavy sigh. “You think you know them, Carrie, but you don’t,” she said.

“I do.”

“You think they’re the good guys. A bit rough around the edges maybe, but lovable rogues. You think they’ve got your back. And let me tell you: you are dead wrong. You brought them here tonight, and I see you trying so hard to fit in. You’re even drinking beer, and you hate beer. You’re sitting there with one wasted at your feet and another one about half a drink away from making a pass at you, and you think that you’re one of them. And you’re not, Carrie. You never will be. The only chance you have of getting ahead is to be twice as good as every single one of them. So much better that they can’t stop you. Trust me.”