The elevator doors open on the 18th precinct. I look up from my shoes, realizing that I’ve been running on auto-pilot since I left Milo’s truck. I don’t remember leaving the park and I barely remember driving back to the station but I clearly remember the last question I asked him.

I cross the doorway, putting the question behind me. When I’m here, I have a job to do. I can’t let myself lose focus when there are still so many other questions that need answers.

“Hey, Anna,” Trevor says from his desk. “Where you been?”

I sit down in my chair. “Just following up on a few leads.”

“Leads?” He looks over at me. “What leads?”

“Uh…” I flick on my computer monitor. “I checked in with Gloria to reconfirm time of death.”

“Yeah. This morning,” he says. “I was sitting here when you called her.”

I stretch my neck, feeling it pop. “Just took a long lunch to clear my head, Trev.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Home.”

He squints and lowers his pen. “How’s the kid?”

“She’s in daycare. She’s fine.”

“And you?”

I look over at him. “I’m fine.”

“You seem tense.”

“No, not tense. Just very busy. Have we made any progress on our killer?”

“Not since we let him go, no.”

I ignore it and pull over a stack of my notes. “It has to be a Quinn,” I think out loud.

Trevor turns his chair toward me and presses his fingers together beneath his chin. “How do you figure?” he asks.

“Because of the evidence,” I say. “It was planted in Milo’s truck, so whoever planted it needed access to the truck.”

“Right… but why would the Quinns purposefully implicate a player in their own drug ring?” he asks. “Seems counterproductive.”

“We don’t know if he’s involved in the drug ring at all,” I point out.

Trevor pauses and flexes his jawline before speaking again. “Anna, have you considered that maybe Milo has an accomplice?” he asks. “That maybe he’s not as innocent as you obviously want him to be?”

I gawk at him. “What are you talking about?”

He tilts his head, side-eying me. “Come on, Anna. One piece of evidence contradicts our perfect narrative and you let him walk out of here?”

“He had an alibi.”

“And nothing else.” He counts on his fingers. “He had the murder weapon. His prints were found in Martin’s apartment. The bodies were covered in his hot sauce, for Christ’s sake.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Why would he do that? If he did kill them, why would he make it so obvious?”

“Because he’s a fucking psychopath who wants attention!”

“No, he’s not.”

He snorts. “Are you listening to yourself right now? You don’t even know the guy and you’re his advocate?”

I take a breath. “It doesn’t make sense, Trevor. Milo being framed is the simpler explanation. The Quinns and the McGregors have been inching toward war for years. The streets are a damn powder keg and everyone knows it. Someone is using that to their advantage.”

“Why?” he asks.

I stutter. “I don’t know. A distraction?”

“From what?”

“Something bigger. Maybe the Shanks are still pulling strings from prison. Or maybe there are some Quinns and McGregors out there working together to take down Daniel’s drug ring and split the territory amongst themselves. Daniel is notorious for not playing well with others. Maybe the families have finally had enough. Or maybe there’s a third party we haven’t even considered yet that’s playing the families against each other for their own amusement.”

“Or maybe,” he leans forward, “we let a guilty man walk free. But please, tell me more about this simpler explanation.”

He pushes out of his chair and storms off. I bow my head, avoiding the eyes of others in the desks around me and I pretend to stare at my notes.

Is he right? Am I in too deep? Am I too close to this case that I can’t see the big picture anymore?

Am I bending evidence to make Milo look innocent, not because he is, but because I want him to be?

I reach into my pocket, feeling for the piece of paper stashed inside. I unfold it, reading Milo’s number scrawled across it. He said I could ask him anything but I can’t really trust a word he says, can I? How can I be sure everything he’s told me isn’t a cold, calculated lie?

I crumble the paper and drop it into my trash can.