“What’s got you so down and glum?” Milo asked as we swung the car around the block, heading back to the precinct.

He’d spent most of his morning and some of the afternoon in court, and the minute he got out, he’d been ready to hit the streets. We’d only had a couple of hours before the end of the shift, but any time he could spend out on patrol made him happy, so who was I to argue?

I’d hoped he’d be in his own head too much to notice my mood, but no such luck. It seemed like he’d cued in on my bad moon in next to no time and he hadn’t let up on it either.

“Hey, if you want to talk about my day, how about you tell me about yours first?” I finally said.

He shot me a look. “Now why would I want to do that? I ask you about yours so I can forget about my shitty day.”

I had to laugh. Sighing, I slumped down in my seat as far as my gear and the seatbelt would allow, then I rolled my head over and looked at him. “Maybe I don’t want to think about my shitty day, either.”

“Huh. Seems like what we need to do is go out and grab a couple of beers after we clock out. Sound like a plan?”

I almost told him no. I was half expecting to hear from Nicco, although part of me dreaded it. My phone had remained silent save for a couple of texts from various brothers and one from my dad.

“I dunno.” I offered a shrug. “Maybe. Let’s see how much shittier the day gets before I decide.”

He glanced at the clock and grinned. “Hey, it can’t get much shittier. Our shift is almost over.”

The words were almost comical now.

Nicco stood just inside the precinct, and the look on his face was one that might have had me quaking in my shoes if I was the type to do such.

“How in the hell could you do that?” he demanded, his voice low and taut, eyes sparking fury. “She’s a kid, Ravenna. A fucking kid, and you’ve got no idea what she’s been through.”

I didn’t let myself react to his words. I was already feeling bad enough. I could have told him that I’d already figured out that I’d overstepped, but somehow, I didn’t think it would make a difference to him. Besides, maybe I deserved this.

I should have just held off talking to Joelle or…something.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” he demanded.

Apparently, my silence wasn’t doing much for him. Lifting one shoulder, I said, “What do you want me to say? I misstepped. If it makes any difference, I didn’t know she was only sixteen, okay?”

“How did you get her cellphone number?” He continued to eye me with suspicion, and when my gaze fell from his, it must have cued him in. “You went snooping through my phone, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t snoop,” I said defensively. “She texted while you were in the bathroom, and I saw the number. I remembered it and decided to text her to see if she’d talk to me. That’s it.”

“That’s enough, don’t you think? And you sure as hell were snooping. You went messing with a phone that wasn’t yours!” he fired back. “How would you feel if I picked up your phone and saw a personal message to you? Would you like it?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, unable to answer.

He stared at me a moment longer, then backed away. “I can’t believe you went and used me like that, Ravenna. I told you I’d help you. Why couldn’t you stay away from my sister?”

He turned on his heel and strode off, leaving me alone.

But things didn’t end there.

As I headed into the bullpen, Milo caught my arm, his eyes intense. “What the fuck is going on, Sinclair? The LT is looking for you, and he is pissed.”

“The LT?”

“Lieutenant Newkirk,” he clarified. “He is furious. Like smoke coming out of his ears furious.”

I shook my head, about to offer some makeshift answer although I already knew what the problem was. But before I had a chance to do that, a voice boomed out, echoing through the room, twice as loud as any of the others.

That would be Lieutenant Newkirk.

My immediate supervisor.

I was so screwed.

Turning to face the big, bull-chested man, I took a deep breath. Under my breath, I said, “If I don’t survive this, take my remains back to my father, okay?”

Milo grimaced. “If you don’t survive this, there won’t be any.”

Nothing like macabre humor to bolster one’s courage.

Too bad it didn’t work.

“It wasn’t an investigation, sir,” I tried again, only to be cut off.

“I don’t want to hear another thing about this,” Lieutenant Chris Newkirk said, pointing a thick finger at me. “You’re brand new to your uniform. This man you’re wanting to look at lives in LA, not Monterey, and there’s nothing of interest being pinned on him. I don’t want to hear it. You got me?”

“Sir–”

Newkirk leaned forward over his desk and pointed a fat finger at me. “You got me?” He glared, the look in his eyes lethal. “If you value that badge of yours, you’re going to reply with a yes, sir, then turn your ass around and walk out of here. Take the weekend off and reevaluate, because if there’s anything else about this, you could lose that badge.” He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, eying me with a canny gaze. “You could be a great cop, Sinclair. Your dad was a great cop. Your brothers, they’re great cops. Do you really want to let…whatever this is trip you up so early on?”

I opened my mouth, but unable to argue with him, I blew out a breath. “No, sir.”

What was I supposed to say?

Even if I told him everything I knew about Gabriel Marks, I had no proof…yet…and the crime was years old, past the time we could even prosecute.

I had to get him on something else, and at this time, I had no idea what that might be.

“Go on,” Newkirk said, his voice brusque. “Get out of here.”

I did just that.

On my way out, I grabbed my bag. I didn’t bother to shower. I was too upset. I didn’t head home. Instead, I hailed a cab and gave him my dad’s address.

Being alone was the last thing I needed just then.