BOGART SAT DOWN next to Jamison at her and Decker’s apartment. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“You sure you don’t need anything?”
Jamison’s eyes were closed and tears trickled out. She slowly nodded her head.
Bogart looked up at Decker, who sat at the kitchen table holding an ice pack to his swollen cheek. “You okay?”
“I’ve got no complaints. Alex saved both our lives.”
Milligan was standing next to Decker. “She never shot anyone before,” he said quietly. “It’s not something you get over quickly.”
Decker looked over at Jamison. “She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”
Bogart rose and came over to Decker. “We’ll post people outside just in case Alvarez has friends. You sure you guys will be okay?”
Decker nodded. “I’ll take it from here.”
Bogart and Milligan left, and Decker rose from his chair, crossed the room, and sat down next to Jamison.
“I’m sorry this had to happen, Alex,” he began.
She wiped her nose with her sleeve and sat up. “If you hadn’t told me what to do, we’d both be dead.”
“If you hadn’t done what you did, we’d both be dead.”
She sat back and stared at the ceiling. “I killed someone, Amos.”
He looked at her awkwardly. “There’s no perfect formula to get over it.”
“What did you do when it happened to you for the first time?”
“Honestly?”
She nodded.
“I called Cassie and told her I wouldn’t be home that night. I filed my reports, had my interviews with internal affairs, jumped through all the bureaucratic hoops, and then rented a motel room, loaded up with liquor, and got drunk as hell.”
“Did it help?”
“No. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life and I still felt shitty about what had happened.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” she said in a hollow tone.
“My point is, even with my perfect recall I did get over it. Things haunt me, Alex. But I can live with them. And you will too. It just takes time.”
She sank her head into her hands. “I’m going to see his face until the day I die.”
“No you won’t. He made the choice to start it. You just had to finish it. You saved us, Alex.”
“I was so scared, Decker.”
“So was I.”
“But you were a cop. You’re used to this stuff.”
“You never get used to somebody trying to kill you.”
Jamison pulled a tissue from her pocket and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m glad you showed me how to fire that gun.”
“Being taught how to fire a weapon isn’t that hard. Firing it when you really need to is the hard part. He obviously didn’t see you as a threat. He assumed you weren’t even armed. Big mistake.”
“But after I shot him, I panicked. I couldn’t even defend myself.”
“So it was my turn to help you out. That’s what partners do, Alex. We have each other’s back.”
“That’s the first time you called me that.”
“What?”
“Your partner.” She swiped a strand of hair out of her face. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“You need to go grab a hot shower, take a pill, and go to bed, and not think about it anymore for tonight.”
“But—”
“You need to turn your brain off. You can start to try to deal with it later. But not now.”
He watched her walk off. Right before she closed the bedroom door behind her she turned and said, “Thanks, Amos.”
“For what?”
“For…for not being your normal self right now.” She tacked on a weak smile to this and closed the door. A minute later he heard her shower start up.
Decker rose and stared down at his phone. He’d tried to call Mars a number of times to let him know what had happened, but there’d been no answer.
That wasn’t like the man.
He put on his coat, snagged Jamison’s car keys, and walked out, locking the door firmly behind him. He passed the FBI agents stationed in the building’s lobby.
“Take good care of her, guys,” he said as he walked by them.
He knew where Mars was staying. It wasn’t that far away.
He wedged himself into Jamison’s subcompact, wishing for the moment that he could be a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.
The drive only took about fifteen minutes. There was little traffic at this early hour of the morning.
He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and grabbed an open space. He was about to get out when a car he recognized pulled up to the front of the building and a man in a uniform got out. It was one of the hotel valets. He turned the keys over to the owner and that person got in the car and drove off.
Decker checked his watch.
It was nearly five in the morning. Decker opted for a change in plan.
He pulled off and started to follow the other car.
Twenty minutes later it veered into an open space at the curb. The door opened and the driver got out.
Decker pulled up, stopped, and rolled down his window.
“You’re out early,” he said. “Or coming home late.”
Harper Brown turned to look at him.
“What are you doing here?’
“You were telling the truth.”
“About what?”
“You are quite social in your off hours. So how’s Melvin? Resting comfortably?”
She let out a sigh, leaned against the front fender of her Beemer, and said, “You want to come in for a cup of coffee?”
“I don’t know. Do I?”
Decker pulled into a free space two cars down and got out. He joined Brown as she was putting the key in her front door.
“Glad you had a good night,” he said.
“Thanks, me too. How about you?”
“Nothing to write home about,” said Decker as they went inside.