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“I picked up some chatter from an informant of mine in Sing Sing,” Patterson says. “Callaghan was striking deals before word of his parole even reached the board. I don’t know whether he charmed his way through the gangs or if he had actual collateral,but I do know he didn’t come into Frost Valley unarmed or half-cocked. I also know he’s somewhere above the Silver Stallions on the totem pole, which makes him valuable to my investigation.”

“If only you had something solid to arrest him for.”

She shakes her head. “He’s been extremely careful so far. Nothing traceable. Nothing beyond circumstantial. He’s smart, which also makes him dangerous.”

“The fact that he’s unpredictable is what makes him dangerous,” I retort. “I think he had Tim killed knowing how much it would hurt me.”

“Perhaps I should reach out to Trevor’s parole officer myself and find out if your friend ever spoke to him.”

“That might be a good idea.”

“Dante is the sheriff’s PA’s boyfriend. Am I getting that right?”

We both look at him with disgust and suspicion. “Yes,” I reply.

“No wonder you wanted to keep this out of the station.”

“There are good people working there, Agent Patterson.”

“Oh, I haven’t got a doubt about that. But there is someone dangerous among you that we don’t know. Someone who lurks in the shadows, someone willing to slit your prisoner’s throat right under your noses.”

My stomach churns. I think I’m turning green at the gills, because next thing I know, I am racing to the bathroom. I burst out of the living room and practically land headfirst into the toilet, letting it all out.

I need a few minutes to pull myself together, to navigate between the nausea and the sudden bouts of ravenous hunger. There’s still running water, so I wash my face and rinse my mouth before rejoining them.

Patterson takes me by the elbow and into the kitchen when I leave the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” she whispers, smiling as she measures me from head to toe.

I freeze. “What makes you say that?”

“Your skin. The way you carry yourself. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve been touching your belly on and off. It’s the little things most men don’t notice. I’ve got a five-year-old at home. I’ve been through the motions, including the part where I hid my pregnancy from my colleagues so I wouldn’t get the desk until the very last month.”

“Oh, wow.”

Patterson laughs lightly. “Law enforcement is unfortunately still very much a man’s world.”

“Please, nobody can know. I’m just not ready yet, not with my psycho ex out there doing God-knows-what.”

“Relax. It’s not my secret to disclose,” she replies, then heads back into the living room, where she takes Dante’s gag off again. “Mr. Brunswick, are you ready to talk now?”

“I’m hungry and I’m thirsty,” he complains.

Patterson looks at me. “I assume you don’t have anything in here for him to eat.”

“No, but I could scrounge up something from the kitchen next door.”

“You do that. I’ll keep an eye on him. Maybe he’ll be more open to speak to me if we’re alone.” She takes her phone out and turns the recording app on. “As promised, of course.”

Every fiber in my body screams out for the truth. There are brutal ways to make Dante talk, but I know I’d be unable to indulge in such dark methods. Most definitely not with Patterson involved.

She’s by the book—and maybe that’s for the best.

21

LUCAS