“Hey Watson,” he said. “You still in our fair city?”

“I am,” I said. “And I have a favor.” I told him about Emily and about wanting to help Sapphire and asked him if there was anything more I could pass on to her.

“I know a bit about that case,” he said. “I can give you some info, but you need to keep it to yourself. Chief wanted a tight wrap on this case, and he hasn’t yet authorized release of the details. Should be soon, though, and you can tell your girl.”

“I’ll keep quiet until you say,” I promised, then listened as he told me about how she’d been found in an abandoned warehouse—that was public knowledge—and that she’d been the victim of torture.

“Not sexual, as far as we can tell. But starved and beaten. Some sick fuck did a number on her.”

“Shit.”

“I know. We’re hoping we don’t have a serial killer on our hands.”

“Anything useful from forensics?”

“Adhesive residue and POE oil,” he said, spelling out the last for me. “That’s the angle we’re working now, but both are pretty damn common.”

I thanked him and we chatted some more until I hit my exit, then I said goodbye and pulled into the Starbucks that was just a few doors down the street. I’d done the same the last two times I’d come, and when the barista knew I wanted a venti nonfat latte before I even asked, I realized I was feeling like a regular.

I bought a scone for later and took it and my coffee back to the car, then continued on to the club. I was about to pull behind the building to park when I saw the back door open and Tyler step out—and Michelle was with him.

I pulled over and watched as they got into Tyler’s Buick and pulled out onto the road. And then, though I felt prickles of guilt for doing it, I followed them.

Despite what I knew about Michelle, I wasn’t expecting them to lead me to a love nest. On the contrary, because of what I knew about Michelle—including Tyler’s comment that first day in his office that he wanted to use her for some project—I had a feeling I was about to see the kind of thing I really didn’t want to see—proof that Tyler Sharp wasn’t anywhere close to squeaky clean.

The thought almost made me turn back around.

But I couldn’t. I needed to keep going. I needed to see.

They pulled up at The Drake, and as I took a spot on the opposite side of the street, the valet opened the car for Michelle. She got out, looking classy in a red business suit with a straight skirt. I waited for Tyler to get out, but he continued on, pulling back into traffic.

I frowned, and was about to follow, when I noticed the white van two spots in front of me with a BAS sticker in the back window.

Okay, then.

Apparently I’d stumbled on a BAS Security operation. And I figured I might as well pop in and see what they were up to.

I was about to get out of the car to do just that when my phone rang, the caller ID showing that it was Kevin. I considered ignoring the call, but succumbed to curiosity and answered.

“I keep hoping to hear from you.”

“Kevin, I told you. You’re chasing rainbows. These are good guys. Trust me.”

“No,” Kevin said. “It’s there. Those three don’t operate clean. Everything they touch snakes back to dirty. Smuggling, forgery, extortion, you name it. Did you know they supposedly run a private security company? But I’ll be damned if that’s not just a front for them to gather intel.”

I glanced out my window at the BAS van and frowned. “Jesus, Kevin. Do you have even a shred of evidence that isn’t completely circumstantial?”

“I know what I know,” Kevin said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” I ended the call, too frustrated and distracted to let it linger.

Once again, I glanced over toward The Drake, and then to the van in front of me.

I thought of Tyler and hoped I hadn’t been a fool to let him shatter my walls and slide in through the cracks. But even as I hoped, I couldn’t forget what Kevin had said—everything they touch snakes back to dirty.

And I couldn’t help but think that Tyler had touched me.

I’d told Kevin the absolute truth—I had nothing on these men. But while that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth.

The whole truth was that I hadn’t looked because, dammit, I was afraid of what I might see. And if I saw, would I lie? As I’d lied last night to the detective?

Shit. Who was I?

I’d been closing my eyes where before I would have been poking a flashlight into shadows.

That had to stop now. If for no other reason than I was falling in love with Tyler. And I had to know if the man I loved was dirty.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I got out of the car and marched to the van. I drew in a breath, grabbed the sliding door handle, and tugged.

Inside, Cole whipped around to look at me, then slammed his palm down on a console, making a row of five video monitors go to black.

But it didn’t matter—I’d already seen. Michelle, in full dominatrix regalia, holding a whip over a man I recognized from the Chicago papers. Alderman Brian Bentley, decked out in a ballgag and cuffs.

“Sloane, wait—”

I slammed the door, cutting off Cole’s plea. Then I ran for my car. I heard the van open, heard him call for me again. I didn’t care. I started the car, slid into traffic, and floored it.

I cranked the music up loud, and hoped that the beat would drown out my thoughts, but it wasn’t working. My thoughts were filled with Kevin’s accusations and with the images I’d seen in that van. Extortion, I assumed. Bribery. What had Evan called it? A protection plan?

God. What they hell were they into?

And what the hell was I doing?

A year ago, a month ago, hell, a week ago, I’d be calling the local PD. Now I wasn’t sure what to do.

I was twisted around because of love—but didn’t that make me as guilty as they were?

I didn’t know. All I knew was that Tyler filled my head, bigger and bolder than even the music my dad sent me.

Tyler, who had held me, teased me, touched me, fucked me. Whose heart had beat in time with mine.

I thought about his humor. About his compassion.

I drove on auto-pilot, my thoughts churning wildly, and it wasn’t until my dad’s music was looping for the fourth time that I tuned in to where I was—which was no longer in Illinois. I’d not only crossed the line into Wisconsin, but had just hit the Kenosha city limits.

I may have been on auto-pilot, but my subconscious had definitely had a plan all along.

I’d only been to the Victorian style house on Fifth Street once before, but it wasn’t any trouble finding it. The lawn had been a mess the last time I was there, but now it was neat and tidy, with colorful flowers in pretty clay pots. The dingy paint had been spruced up, at least on the street-facing side. I saw buckets and two ladders around the side of the house, and assumed I was facing a work-in-progress.

I pulled up in front, killed the engine, and sat there for a while, debating. I could go in … or I could turn around and drive the hour and a half back to Chicago.

I decided to go in.

The house was quiet, and I saw no sign of life as I walked to the front door. I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed I’d come so far for no reason, or relieved.

I rang the bell, got no immediate response, and rang again. A good three minutes passed, still with no answer, and I finally decided that all I’d gotten out of this day was a relaxing drive and too much thinking.

I turned to go—and heard the lock click behind me.

I turned around, and found myself staring into the hangdog face of Oscar Hernandez.

He wore a coffee-stained undershirt and flannel pajama pants that had seen better days. Sleep creases lined his face, criss-crossing under his puffy eyes.

“Gee, Lieutenant,” I said. “You’re taking this retirement thing seriously.”

“Watson?” His red eyes crinkled in delight as a wide smile split his face. “Goddammit, Detective, what in the name of the devil’s younger daughter are you doing here?”

“Guess I got a little lost.”

He cocked his head, and I saw the sharp mind behind the bloodshot eyes. “You’re not talking about streets and maps.”

“Guess not.” I lifted a shoulder. “Needed a beer. Figured this was the place to find one.”

“Damn right it is,” he said. “Or it was last night. Wife’s back home with Joey,” he said, referring to their oldest daughter. “Had some of the guys over.”

“A calm night of cigars and literary discussions?”

“Fuck that. We got pissed and talked about our misspent youth. Get your tiny ass in here,” he said, stepping back and holding the door open wide.

I followed him into the kitchen, then hung back as he opened the fridge and stared inside. “I got Heineken and Heineken. Might have some flavored vodka in the freezer. Wife likes that whipped cream stuff.”

“I’ll take Heineken,” I said. “And if you’ve got a bag of potato chips hiding around here somewhere, I’ll love you forever.”

“After what we’ve been through, you should love me anyway.” But he crossed to the pantry and came out with a bag of Lay’s and a bag of Ruffles.

“You’re a good man, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

Fifteen minutes later we were sitting on the back porch steps, breathing in the summer air and looking out at the water. I’d never seen my partner as the Mr. Fix-it type, but I had to admit that for a house like this—big and sprawling with a huge backyard, trees, and a view of the lake—maybe being domesticated would be worth it.

“You gonna tell me what’s on your mind? Cause as much as I enjoy your company, I don’t think you drove all this way just for beer and chips.”