As Cassandra followed the highway into the city for what she hoped would be the last time that night, she played through the possibilities in her mind. It was very late, but she expected that Max would be in the office for the graveyard shift. She had regularly seen him leaving the office only a few hours before her on occasions when she found herself working through to the early hours of the morning.

Her body still tingled all over, and Cassandra thought that beyond all the other things that the tryst had done for her, the way it had pushed back her bone-deep fatigue was what she was most grateful for in that moment.

“We’re going to have to go in fast,” Jack said from the backseat. “They’re going to be looking for me outside of the city by now, but any whisper that I’m somewhere in Manhattan and they’ll be on us in a flash.”

“This late at night, security will be next to nothing,” Cassandra said, remembering the night before. “They’re down to maybe four, five guys for the whole building after midnight.”

She went around a slow car in the center lane and glanced at each of her mirrors, keeping track of the traffic around her. The most important thing was to not draw attention to herself. By this point, if someone at work had reported her missing, the policy would be looking for her almost as intently as they would be Jack himself. While they might be able to escape notice by blending into the general traffic, any cop pulling them over might run her tags, might look at her ID and get an alert. The close call they’d had earlier in the day had left her rattled.

Cassandra picked up her phone, keeping one eye on the road in front of her as she opened up her music library and scrolled through to the band Heatmiser. She selected one of her favorite tracks, “Plainclothes Man,” and exhaled slowly as the old, analog-recorded song came on over the speakers.

“Do you really think you can get him to admit to anything?” Hardy asked.

Cassandra shrugged. “I think so,” she said. “I mean, we’ve got something on him.” She pressed her lips together and reached into her purse. Her fingers touched each familiar item, and she nodded to herself, confirming the beginning of a thought she hadn’t quite fully formed yet. “I think we’ll get him talking.”

She half-smiled to herself, thinking of all the times Max had ever-so-subtly come onto her—so subtly she could never quite call him on it, never overtly reject his advances, because they weren’t actual propositions.

Until he’d gotten her involved in the Laura Granger case, Cassandra had barely existed to Max Adelman. Remembering the way that Max had encouraged her once she’d gotten the initial tip, the way he’d pushed her to work with the police, asking her constantly about her research, Cassandra couldn’t believe she’d actually thought his interest in the case was nothing more than journalistic commitment.

They wound their way off of the Interstate and Cassandra navigated the city streets, taking a slightly out-of-the-way path to get to the office. She needed to work out a final few details before they got to the building and wanted to make her route as difficult to follow as possible. Cassandra had never quite shaken the suspicion that she and Jack might be being followed by someone undercover—maybe even another bounty hunter. Her heart started to beat faster as she turned onto Park Row and followed it up, barely even glancing around her at the buildings that passed by her windows. She had taken so many different routes to work, attempting to avoid the inevitable traffic snarls that New York City boasted as a feature rather than a bug, that Cassandra thought she could navigate to her office like a homing pigeon from anywhere in the state.

As she passed the New York Times Building, Cassandra glanced into the back seat of her car. In a few more blocks, she would be turning into the garage at the Daily Inquisitor. She was sure she had everything that she would need to get into the building and up to the editorial offices where Max would hopefully be working. Cassandra hoped she hadn’t overplayed her hand; it would be harder to track down and handle Max Adelman in his own home, if he wasn’t in the office working on the next print run.

Working from muscle memory, Cassandra turned into the parking garage and reached into her purse, retrieving her employee ID. She swiped it through the reader at the gate and it chirped its acceptance. Well, at least if people have noticed I’m missing, it hasn’t occurred to anyone to shut off my access credentials just yet, she thought. Had that been the case, she didn’t think Jack would have had any qualms about directing her to drive right through the gate—but it meant much less damage to her car to go about things the official way.

There was a guard making the rounds of the parking garage, moving through the floors of the enormous structure attached to the office in his golf cart. Cassandra lifted a hand in a quick wave, recognizing it was Alex, one of the regular nightshift staff. He had seen Cassandra coming and going so many times that he wouldn’t consider it strange that she was entering the building after midnight, though her companion might trigger more than a little curiosity. We should have come up with some kind of disguise, while we were driving up here, Cassandra thought.

A few minutes later, she found her assigned parking spot—a benefit she had been granted after the Inquisitor made record sales on her exposé about Laura Granger’s sordid second life as a drug dealer. Cassandra chuckled lowly to herself, shaking her head in amusement at the irony of it. She turned the key in the ignition, shutting the car off, and twisted around in the driver’s seat, looking at Jack.

“We need to do something to disguise you,” she said, looking him up and down.

“Probably something we should have thought of earlier,” Jack said, with a faintly rueful smile.

“It didn’t occur to me until a couple of minutes ago that they might have your picture plastered all over the security desks,” Cassandra admitted. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it for a moment, considering. “I’ve got a company baseball cap and a hoodie,” she suggested. “The hoodie probably won’t fit very well, but it’ll be enough to distract from who you are, won’t it?”

“Maybe.” Jack looked around the car as he thought about the problem. “Simple disguises tend to be the most effective.”

Cassandra nodded. “I’ll get myself cleaned up a bit, too. It’s been a long day—two days—and being screwed in the backseat of my car hasn’t helped.”

“But no one else knows that,” Jack pointed out. “If you look as close to normal as you possibly can, people won’t pay as much attention to me.” He smirked. “I mean, why look at a random guy in a sweat shirt and a baseball cap if there’s a hot-as-hell woman to check out?”

Cassandra blushed and turned around in her seat, opening the center console where she kept a few emergency primping supplies; her job demanded that she be able to present herself professionally at a moment’s notice—even while on the run, it seemed.

She went to work quickly, wiping her face clean with a pre-moistened towel before applying a little powder, a touch of blush, and some mascara. She reached into her purse and her fingers connected with the screwdriver she had stolen. Shaking her head softly at that moment of remembered fear, she rummaged around until she came up with a tube of lip stain and turned back to the mirror in her visor to apply it.

Smoothing her hair back, she twisted and coiled it into a smart, low bun. In a matter of five minutes, she looked as though she had been doing nothing more strenuous than sleeping at her desk for the last two days. Cassandra took a quick steadying breath as she looked in the back to confirm that Jack’s disguise—such as it was—was in place, and then they both got out of the car.

Cassandra walked quickly towards the door that led from the garage and into the main building, suppressing the urge to look around; if she were there on a normal errand, she would keep her gaze in front of her, not be checking to make sure that she wasn’t being watched or pursued. Behind and off to her left, she heard Jack following, his footfalls heavier than hers in the echoing concrete garage.

Her ID card passed muster at the scanner that controlled the lock on the door, and in moments she and Jack were in the building, striding through the deserted lobby towards the elevators. Cassandra pushed the elevator recall button, her palms clammy and her heart beating faster in her chest. It would all be over soon, she told herself. Soon, she would know the truth about Laura Granger’s murder, and she would do everything in her power to use that knowledge to help Jack overturn his conviction and gain his freedom.

The elevator chimed and Cassandra glanced at Jack. “Ready for this?”

Jack grinned. “You’re asking me if I’m ready? You’ve never busted someone before.”

Cassandra smiled in spite of herself. “Good point,” she said quietly. The doors opened and Cassandra stepped into the car, Jack hot on her heels. “I could get to enjoy this.”

Jack chuckled. “Are you considering a career change or something? I’m not being funny, but can you even fire a gun?”

Cassandra shrugged. “I’ve only done it a couple of times at a range, but I could learn.” She considered the surprise that they were about to launch on Max and her lips twisted into a grin. “Besides, I might not be such a hot commodity in the world of journalism once this gets out.”

“I’d think that something like this would make you even hotter,” Jack pointed out, as the doors closed.

Cassandra considered it, but decided abruptly that she would rather not speculate. She was committed to what they were about to do; if she overthought it, no good could possibly come from it.

Cassandra pressed the button for the top floor—editorial, where with any luck, Max Adelman would be working away, completely unaware of their presence in the building. The elevator chirped, and a recorded female voice came on over a speaker, asking for credentials. Cassandra swiped her card again and the elevator started to rise from the fifth floor level where she’d parked, carrying them smoothly upward.

Cassandra had been up to the editorial level so many times that it was easy to remember the layout of the floor. Max’s office dominated, surrounded by a few auxiliary offices which belonged to the man’s subordinates in advertising and PR, as well as a lobby for his personal assistant to check people in. At such a late hour, the desk would be abandoned, but Cassandra had stayed sufficiently late often enough to know the codes she would need to get into the office.

“Ready for this?” Jack asked, holding her gaze for a moment as the elevator slowed.

Cassandra nodded, just as the elevator came to a stop and chimed, announcing their arrival. The doors opened with a silky mechanical whisper and Cassandra stepped through them, striding towards the reception desk in the lobby. She pulled the keyboard tray out and unlocked the computer. Taking a quick breath, she typed in the code that would unlock the security system, giving herself and Jack access to the all-important editorial offices.

Jack followed closely behind her as Cassandra hurried towards the now unlocked door. She opened it as quietly as possible, glancing behind her to make sure that Jack was still with her. He nodded, and Cassandra stepped through the door, holding it long enough for Jack to catch hold of the edge, before closing it silently behind them. The element of surprise was their biggest advantage in this confrontation. If Max heard the door slamming closed, he would know there was someone on the level. Cassandra didn’t want to give him the opportunity to plan a reaction, to collect himself.

She made a beeline for Max’s door, fully focused on the mission that brought her there. She patted her pocket, feeling the outline of her metaphorical trump card.

As they neared the door, Cassandra’s steps slowed as she heard muffled noises: the sound of something hitting the floor, a groan, shaking-rocking noises. She paused for just a moment, turning to look at Jack, bewildered, then Cassandra heard Max’s hoarse voice grunting something incoherent. Her mouth fell open as she realized what was happening in the office. Cassandra stifled a giggle and took a breath to gain control of the impulse.

Cassandra gathered up her composure and reached out, wrapping her fingers around the handle on Max’s door. Normally, he kept it locked, and Cassandra was surprised to find that it turned easily. She looked up at Jack and nodded: once, twice, a third time. At the third nod, as they’d planned in the car, Cassandra turned the knob quickly and pushed the door open, plunging through it. Jack hung back, waiting for his cue to come in behind her.

For a fraction of an instant, Max and the woman with him didn’t realize that they’d been interrupted. Cassandra took in the sight of her boss, naked from the waist down, his blazer on the floor and his shirt unbuttoned. Sprawled over his desk was a fully naked woman, her surgically enhanced breasts pressed to the wood, her ass in the air, her hands tied behind her back with what looked to be Max’s necktie. Her tight dress and heavily painted face implied that she might be an escort.

It was the woman who spotted Cassandra first. She let out a startled yelp that transformed into a shriek.

“You told me we would be alone!”

Max’s frenzied thrusts came to a stop and he looked up to see Cassandra standing in his doorway.

“Cass! What are you doing here?” He sprung back, away from the prostitute.

Whether or not he’s separated from his wife, he’s clearly moved on, Cassandra thought absently.

The woman tugged at the tie binding her wrists and Max pulled the knot loose. “You owe me, asshole,” she said, gathering up her clothes. The woman dressed herself quickly, glaring at Max. “I didn’t agree to having an audience.” She gathered up a stack of bills from the coffee table and beat a hasty retreat, muttering insults under her breath.

“Hello, Max,” Cassandra said, as the door slammed behind the nameless escort. “Sorry if I’ve come at the wrong time, but something came to my attention and I wanted to come straight to you.” She reached into her purse and found the item she wanted. Touch-memory brought her finger down on the correct button and then she withdrew her hand from the bag.

“If you wanted to drop in on me for a little fun, all you had to do was call,” Max said, sitting down in his chair and making no move to put his pants back on. “I’m always happy to oblige.”

“Well, actually… I’m not the one who’s going to be screwed this evening,” Cassandra said, smiling faintly. “Come on in,” she called over her shoulder.

The moment that Jack walked through the door, Max’s demeanor changed completely.

“You! What the… You’re supposed to be three states away by now,” he said, a mixture of anger and fear in his voice.

Jack smiled grimly. “I’ve been having an interesting time on the lam,” he said, blocking the only possible exit route that Max could take.

Cassandra saw her boss’ gaze land on the screwdriver now gripped tightly in Jack’s hand. She slipped her hand into her pocket and withdrew the ring she’d found in Laura Granger’s back yard.

“I think I’ve got a scoop for you,” she said quietly, as she walked towards the desk.

Cassandra laid the ring down where the light would catch it best. It touched the wooden surface with a muted clink, and Max tore his gaze away from Jack for long enough to look at it, the expression on his face removing all doubt from Laura’s mind as to whether it could be someone else’s ring.

“Now tell me, what would your wedding ring be doing in Laura Granger’s back yard?”

Max’s face went red and then pale once more. He glanced at Jack and shuddered. “I’m not saying anything,” he said, shaking his head.

Jack raised the screwdriver, holding it up in an unmistakable threat.

“You’ll talk or we’ll worry about the story of how you came to kill Laura later, when your body washes up in the bay,” Jack told him firmly.

“Oh Christ,” Max said, his gaze fixed on the weapon. He threw his hands up, cringing slightly. “Don’t kill me. Please.” He swallowed convulsively and looked at Cassandra. “It was me, I killed her.”

A poignant moment of silence enveloped them.

“How did you even know her?”

Cassandra looked at her boss intently; it was the question that the rest of her theory hinged on. She had never even known that Max had known Laura as anything other than the hero cop.

“We were partners,” Max said with a shrug, his gaze constantly shifting from Cassandra to Jack.

“Partners?” Cassandra moved closer to the desk and put her purse down on the surface, sinking into one of the chairs.

“You know what that bitch was like,” Max said, his voice tight. “At least, you do now.” Cassandra shrugged. “She had the in. She gave me the intel on what was going on in her investigations—juicy stuff for the paper. I gave her tips we got from some of the sources we go to. It worked well.”

“Okay, and what else?” Cassandra said, gesturing for him to continue.

She glanced at Jack; the fugitive’s attention didn’t waver from Max for even a moment, and Cassandra sensed that he was just waiting for an excuse to plunge the screwdriver into Max’s body.

“She was a good lay too,” Max said, his smug confidence briefly returning. “She’d come up here in the middle of the night, while I was working on the next day’s features. She’d bring a bag of whatever she had to spare, and we’d fuck like animals.”

Jack’s grip on the screwdriver tightened and he moved forward a step.

Max, possibly realizing how dangerous the man he was talking to was, held up his hands defensively. “She was a dirty cop! She sold to dealers, she sold to me, she was about as corrupt as you could get, all while everyone’s going around making her into a saint.”

“And you certainly weren’t going to make sure that everyone found out about that,” Cassandra said, rolling her eyes.

“Of course I liked partying with her. She always skimmed the best stuff, and she gave me my pick. It was a solid arrangement…until that bitch walked out on it.”

Max’s face reflected sulky displeasure, and Cassandra wondered how a man so powerful and well off could look so much like a spoiled child.

“What happened, the night that you killed her?” Cassandra said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She came to see me, like always,” Max said, shrugging. “We got a little buzz on, and I asked her if she had any new information for me. That’s when she told me it was the last time she’d give me anything. She wanted out of the deal—sex, drugs, everything.”

“Did she give you a reason?”

“’I have to look out for myself now,’ she said. She couldn’t take the lies anymore; she wanted to go straight, and she didn’t feel she could do that while we were still fucking.” Max’s hands balled up into tight fists “I was furious. I wanted more than just to fuck and do drugs with her,” he said ruefully. “I loved the bitch. I told her I was ready to leave my wife for her, to sacrifice everything so we could make a real go of it, and she just turned and walked out.”

“What happened next?” Cassandra asked, wanting to extract as much detail from Max as possible. The police had taken a big hit when it had come out that Laura Granger had been a dirty cop—they would love to be able to say that they’d nabbed the guy who had not only murdered her, but been witness to some of her most corrupt activities before that.

“I was in shock.” Max continued. “I couldn’t accept that she wanted to break things off just like that. I felt like there was something she wasn’t telling me, and I tried to let it lie but I couldn’t. Maybe an hour after she left, I followed her to the club where she was supposed to be at some work party. That’s when I saw her kissing you, and suddenly everything made sense.”

“What?” Jack stared at the editor in shock. “I only knew who she was because we met a few times through work, when I brought in bounties. I was there, that night at the club, and yeah, she tried it on with me, but I pushed her away. Maybe you didn’t stick around stalking her for long enough to see that.”

“Bullshit!” Max’s voice came out shrill, and he moved to get to his feet before remembering the weapon in the bounty hunter’s hand. “I went to her place. I waited till she got home, and I confronted her, said I could have understood if she’d really wanted to go straight, but it seemed like she’d been trying to pull the wool. Told her I’d seen her in the club that night, and I asked her if the real reason she wanted out was because of the guy I’d seen her with. She didn’t say anything, just looked towards her nightstand. That’s when I saw the dog tags, just lying there with your name on them. That’s what made me flip. I could deal with her cutting me loose from the drugs, I could deal with her wanting to go legit… but finding out she was fucking you was the last straw. I beat her until she bled, then I wrapped my hands around her neck and squeezed until she stopped moving.” Max whimpered. “I put your tags right there in her hands, and that’s when I called Cass.”

Cassandra saw the confusion on Jack’s face, and remembering what he had said about the tags and their mysterious disappearance, more of the puzzle pieces began to fall into place in her mind.

“So how come your ring ended up in Laura’s back yard?” Cassandra asked, advancing toward Max.

“I panicked. I wasn’t thinking straight. I tossed it in the bushes when I saw it all covered in blood. I went back to her place later, I tried to find it out in the back yard. When I couldn’t find it, I figured it wouldn’t be a problem. And it wasn’t, not until—”

“Not until right now,” Jack finished for him.

Cassandra looked at her bag on the desk, piecing through the information she had gleaned. At least half a dozen people in Laura’s life had testified to the woman’s fixation on Jack—the fact that Laura had been convinced that Jack was a real hero, the fact that she had wanted to get him into bed—some of her friends even believed they were sleeping together. The bartender and two of her friends recalled seeing Laura kissing Jack on the night she was murdered—further evidence which helped convict Jack.

“Jesus,” Cassandra said, thinking of the violent end that Laura had come to. She looked at Jack. “It must have been her,” she said, seeing the anger and the confusion on the fugitive’s face. “Jack—she must have been the one who stole them from your room. I don’t know how, but…” Cassandra shrugged. “She was obsessed with you.”

“You killed her,” Jack said, his attention shifting back onto Max. He stepped closer to the desk, his hand tightening on the handle of the screwdriver. “You killed her, and then you ruined my life—all because you couldn’t get over your ego!”

“He wanted to make as much money for the newspaper as possible,” Cassandra added, glancing askance at her boss. “Two birds with one stone: a huge story for the paper, and condemning the man he thought stole his girlfriend away from him. He’ll have plenty of time to think about the fact that he framed you for no reason while he rots in jail.”

“I promised myself that when I found out who did this to me, I’d kill them,” Jack said.

Cassandra’s heart stuttered in her chest; it was one thing to get to the bottom of the mystery, another thing to stand by while Jack used extreme measures to interrogate his suspects—but to watch him commit murder?

The familiar sound of sirens drifted through the open window, cutting through Cassandra’s abstracted thoughts.

“Jack,” she said, shaking her head and standing. “Jack—you can’t. The cops are coming, and they’ll catch you red-handed if you touch him. You can get your conviction overturned now—but what the hell will any of this matter if you go and hurt someone for real?”

“How can I get the conviction overturned?” Jack glanced from Max to Cassandra and back again. “What are you suggesting I do, show them a fucking ring?”

Cassandra smiled slightly and reached into her purse. She hadn’t realized until they had arrived at the building how lucky she had been that she always kept her voice recorder in her purse, in case of a last-minute interview.

“You play this recording for them,” she said, lifting the device out of her purse and showing it to the two men. “It may not be admissible as evidence, but they can definitely use it to find some more, don’t you think?”

Jack stared at the recorder for a moment, and Cassandra worried that the man was going to give in to his rage, but as the sound of the police sirens increased in volume, Jack’s hand fell to his side.

“You’re right,” he said, glaring at Max. “If I kill him, they won’t even bother investigating. They’ll throw away the key.” Jack looked at Cassandra, smiling faintly. “Think you can help me get the ball rolling on clearing myself?”

Cassandra mirrored his smile. “I think that’s very possible—but they need a living body if they’re going to investigate.”

Jack nodded. “They’ll have a living body, all right,” he said, glancing at Max with a satisfied expression. “But if you try to run, asshole, I’ll break you.”