“Me?” Evelyn was holding the nail polish in her right hand. A droplet of polish formed and dripped onto the table.

“I’ve always felt that there are good people and bad people in the world. And the awful thing is, so often, bad things happen to the good people. Have you ever noticed that?”

Evelyn was staring at her now, her fist clenched and the polish of her nails smudged so that it looked like she had blood on her hand.

“Yes,” she said. “I have.”

“If you’re special, there’s just so much jealousy, so many people trying to pull you down. To make you ordinary, just like them.”

“Yes.”

Carrie filled herself up with sincerity, with empathy, until she felt like she was soaked in it. She leaned forward. “Laura was jealous of you. She saw you were better than she was, that you were going to get the position at Carmody’s. Maybe she was jealous of other things, too. Of your looks. Your popularity. She knew she could never measure up. Maybe she was upset about Robert. And she was drunk. So when you left the bar, she followed you. She followed you, and she tried to hurt you, didn’t she?”

There was a pause. Carrie felt like she was holding her breath, like she was perfectly balanced on the top of a wall that stood on a high, high cliff, and the merest puff of wind could push her in one direction or another.

“Yes,” Evelyn said.

And Carrie breathed again.

Epilogue

Afterward, Carrie called for backup and took Evelyn with her to the station. She booked her into custody and, for the second time in as many days, went looking for Charlie Sweeney. This time, he wasn’t in the canteen but was sitting at a desk in an open-plan office. Half the detective squad was within earshot.

Carrie placed the tape on the desk right in front of him.

“What’s that?” he said.

“Evelyn Ross is in custody,” she said. “I’ve arrested her for the murder of Laura O’Donnell. That tape has her confession. I’ve listened to it, and the sound quality is excellent.” She paused. “And now I’m going to get on with my day and do my job. If you want to pull me in for disciplinary action, I’ll be on patrol. You’ll get me on the radio.” She leaned in. “But don’t think I’m going down without a fight.”

Charlie did come to find her the following day. She was at home, on a day off. Aifric was there, too. They were watching TV in front of the fire when the knock came on the door. Carrie opened it.

“Oh,” she said.

He looked her up and down—she was wearing jeans with no socks and an ancient R.E.M. T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “I can come back another time. I just wanted to talk to you, away from the station.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Come in.” She stepped back, led him into the room, and made brief introductions. Aifric gave him one of her you-don’t-scare-me looks and disappeared upstairs to the mezzanine, where she would no doubt listen to every word said.