THIRTY-SIX

“Sorry, Detective.” The correction officer who couldn’t process their paperwork looked authoritative and sheepish at the same time, which was a good trick. “You know the rules.”

“Yes,” Jason acknowledged.

The CO, over six feet tall with the shoulders of a swimmer, had dark skin, mild brown eyes, and a soothing speaking voice. Even though he was full of bad news, Angela could have listened to that voice all day. “And y’know Drake fired his lawyer right after the sentencing and reps himself.” He spread his hands. “So it’s like a lawyer not authorizing contact with a client—we can’t do anything.”

Angela opened her mouth, ready to try any number of arguments: But we have new info. But someone recently committed a crime that might be related to the case. But all of this can’t be for nothing. But why aren’t you doing podcasts with that voice?

“I would never sanction flouting the rules,” Jason began, which sounded promising. Nobody started like that unless they were about to sanction flouting the rules.

“‘Flouting’? We don’t sanction doing anything to the rules,” Archer added.

“But my understanding is that sometimes ICC personnel have been able to work around visitation rules. Under special circumstances.”

What could be more special than our special circumstance? Angela wondered. At times it was like they were all stuck in a soap opera.

“Yeah, but . . .” The officer lowered his voice and took a step forward. What is it with people moving a foot away because they think they won’t be overheard? Does no one understand acoustics? “For this case? C’mon. You know he won’t cooperate. You know there’s nothing new. So what’s the point?” Officer Maller looked at Angela. “No offense.”

She was offended, as a matter of fact, but couldn’t deny Maller had a point. And the fact that his attitude mirrored her mother’s was just the frosting on the dog turd they were pretending was a cake.

“I’m not sure what we can . . .” She trailed off. Ten years of this, and it wasn’t getting any easier. How could it not be getting even a little easier? Fight! Think of something. Or get shrill. That doesn’t always help, but it’s a real stress-reliever. “What if we . . .” What? Come up with a last-minute idea no one thinks will work until it does? Why can’t real life be like Law & Order sometimes?

“Officer Maller, I think I can help you with your gambling problem,” Leah said out of nowhere, startling everyone (but no one more than the CO).

“I’m sorry?”

“Your gambling problem.”

“I don’t, uh, have that.” Maller cleared his throat with an uneasy rumble. “An addiction. To gambling, I mean.”

“You’re right. It’s not a full-blown addiction yet, so there’s time. I’ve got an idea how you can get rid of it. Could I speak to you over here, please?”

Blinking like he was in a windstorm, Maller meekly followed Leah through a door that opened to a small private office off to the side. At the click of the door closing, Angela turned and said, “See how she wanted to talk without being overheard so she left the room and went into another room and then closed the door to that other room? That’s how you do it.”

“It’s not easy being in love with a legend,” Archer said with a fond smirk, “but somehow, I manage.”

“With respect to your fiancée,” Jason said, “this is not an episode of Law & Order. She’s not going to come up with a last-minute fix that will solve our—”

The door opened and Maller stuck his head out, spotted the officer behind the counter, and yelled, “Amy! Process these visitors, please!” Then he disappeared back inside the office.

Jason’s rebuttal was succinct. “Huh.”

Angela could feel the unbelieving smile cross her face. “This has been a weird day.”

“A great, great day,” Jason reminded her.

She hadn’t dared try to hold his hand again once they were inside ICC. He might be confident that picnicking among the dead with a Drake wouldn’t get him in trouble at work, but she didn’t want to risk it just yet. This . . . whatever it is . . . it’s new and tender, like a fly larva, vulnerable to any outside forces that, oh jeez, my metaphors are getting worse.

So though it’d be the nicest thing ever to reach for his hand and hold it while Archer said stupid things that were alternately aggravating and hilarious, she didn’t. And she might have been reading too much into it, but from the way Jason was looking at Archer with a thoughtful expression, he might have been pondering the same thing.

Or he could be thinking about the next pair of socks to buy.

The oddest thing of all? Before meeting Detective Chambers, Angela would never have described herself as timid.

The door opened again and Leah came out with Maller on her heels. He looked dazed and pleased. “I heard everything you said. Thank you, Ms. Nazir.”

Leah shook his offered hand. “Worth a try, right? At worst, you’re only out half an hour of your time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Officer Maller looked over their small group. “Let’s get you inside, okay, folks?”

And that was that.