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“He doesn’t have to come back.”
Laura shot him that don’t-be-an-idiot look again. “He’s your friend, Sam. He’s worried about you. Let him fuss. He sent a pic of the dog.” She huffed a soft laugh. “He’s cute.”
She tilted her phone so that Sam could see the photo. Siggy was in his crate, his tongue lolling happily. At least he wasn’t scared.
Sam hated the thought of his dog being scared.
“When did you get him?” Laura asked.
Sam leaned against the mirror, trying to put anyone watching him out of his mind. “The day after I broke up with you.”
Her eyes widened, and then she smiled ruefully. “He’s prob-ably better for you than I was.”
“No doubt,” Sam said, needing to change the subject. He wasn’t comfortable with anyone behind the mirror knowing his personal business. Any more than they already did—and he was certain that they’d been digging deep. “Have you worked with McKittrick and Constantine before?”
“Constantine, yes.” She made a face of distaste. “He’s a good cop. Very procedurally thorough. He was unshakable on the stand and my client is now serving life in San Quentin.” She tilted her head. “He doesn’t like shrinks. I remember that from the case because a shrink testified on my client’s behalf.” Another shrug. “We tried to go for a diminished capacity defense, but the prosecutor’s shrink blew mine out of the water.”
“Unfortunate,” Sam said sarcastically.
“He was guilty as fuck, so I threw a Hail Mary. Sometimes they work and sometimes they don’t. Just... be careful of Constantine and his partner. They’re predisposed to suspect you, or at least Constantine is.”
Sam remembered the disappointment on McKittrick’s face when she’d arrived at his apartment. She’d hoped he was on the level then, but his stupid crime board had sunk that ship. Not to mention the damn gun. He wished he’d never taken it out of the safe.
He could only hope that she’d be fair. He realized that he hated that she thought he could kill someone. He didn’t so much care about Constantine’s opinion of him, as long as the man believed he wasn’t a murderer. But he wanted McKittrick to... what? Like him?
Well, yeah. He did. It was juvenile, but accurate.
“Thanks. I’ll be careful. Have you been able to reach Vivian?”
“I would have told you if I did,” she said, not unkindly.
He knew that. “Sorry.” Pulling out a chair, he sat and dropped his head into his hands. “This is pretty awful.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said in a practical voice that actually soothed him. “Except for the resisting and the gun.”
He groaned. “I’m an idiot.”
“Did you point it at them?”
“No. I had it pointed down when I answered the door.” He sighed. “I thought, What if it’s Driscoll?”
“I can’t say that I blame you, especially knowing what he’d done to land in your office. Don’t worry. We can fix that. The resisting arrest charge might depend on their generosity, though. They haven’t booked you yet, so there’s still time to work it out.”
“I can’t have a record,” he mumbled. “I just can’t.”
“Look at it this way,” she said, sounding almost amused. “You’ve led such a boring Boy Scout life up until now, this can be a story you tell at parties someday. You can make yourself out to be a real badass.”
He scowled. “Boring isn’t a bad thing.” It had been the reason she’d given for cheating on him, though, and that still rankled. “I’m so sorry that I’m not interesting enough for you.”
She winced. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll just sit over here quietly and wait for the detectives to come back.”
“Fine.”
But he couldn’t sit. He began to pace again, tempted to flip the bird to the mirror on principle alone. But he didn’t. He couldn’t make this worse.
He was pushing a hundred laps around the room when the door opened and McKittrick and Constantine filed back in.
For a moment McKittrick held his gaze, but he wasn’t sure what she was thinking. She motioned to the chairs.
