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It probably said something, something sad, that even in these extreme circumstances, he was uncomfortably conscious of Beau right behind him, Beau’s energy and aggression breathing down his neck. Except it wasn’t exactly energy and aggression assaulting his senses so much as that spicy aftershave and the crisp rustle of Beau’s uniform and jacket and the firm tread of his boots just about clipping Archie’s heels.

But when they reached the door, Beau moved to hold it for Archie and put his hand on Archie’s arm as though he expected Archie to keel over in that first gust of fresh air.

Archie did not keel over, of course. He was made of sterner stuff that, for God’s sake—despite how it might look after his semi-swoon. Even after getting beaten nearly into unconsciousness, he’d managed to—but he couldn’t think about that now. Especially now.

And it hadn’t been for nothing. They’d managed to stop the attack on the base. Lives had been saved. That was not insignificant.

Lives had been lost, too.

He had done everything in his power. But some things were beyond his power.

Beau let go of him and they walked the short distance down the street. They reached Beau’s SUV. Beau unlocked the vehicle. Archie climbed inside and let his head fall back against the seat rest.

What the fuck did any of it matter?

Beau came around, got in behind the wheel, started the engine. The radio crackled into life. But dispatch sounded muted and the officer reports were casual. Another quiet night in Twinkleton.

As they pulled away from the curb, Beau, eyes in his rearview, said, “You sure you don’t want to stop at the ER? Have them take a look at you?”

“I’m sure.”

Beau was silent. He said finally, “That was your case going up in smoke, I guess? On the news?”

“That was it.”

“Were you the undercover agent? Are you how the group was infiltrated?”

Beau was smart and quick. In school, he’d never really had to apply himself anywhere off the football field because, well, he was Beau Langham, hometown hero. No teacher, nobody was going to fail him. Nobody was going to keep him from leading the football team to win the state championship again. Real life, adult life, was different, but Archie wasn’t surprised Beau had achieved his goals. He believed Beau when he said he was good at his job.

He nodded wearily.

After a moment, Beau said, “Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Archie added in afterthought, “Thanks.”

Six minutes later they were back at the inn. Beau parked streetside in the hazy yellow light of streetlamps. Archie reached for the door handle.

Beau turned off the engine and said, “I’ll go up with you.”

Archie turned back, gave a short laugh. “Why?”

Even in the gloom, he could see Beau’s scowl. “Because you almost passed out. And you look like you’re about to do it again.”

“I should have eaten. That’s all.”

“Okay, well, you still haven’t eaten, so that’s not reassuring. You’ve been wandering around town like the walking dead for two days. It’s my job to notice and be concerned.”

“I appreciate the concern. I appreciate the ride. But—”

“Besides.”

“Besides what?” Impossible to read Beau’s face in the eerie glow of the dashboard, but what Archie could see of his expression, did not look promising.

“I want to talk to you.”

Archie said a little bitterly, “Of course you do. Well, if you think you’ll have more luck questioning me in my weakened state, go for it.”

The gloom made it impossible to actually stare each other down, though they were trying. Beau seemed to recognize the ridiculousness of the situation. He gave a weird laugh and said, “You just can’t be wrong, can you, Crane?”