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Ouch. Archie winced inwardly. Guilty as charged. But his moment of doubt had sprung from fear rather than logic.

He said, “Sometimes perps really are that careless. And there are cops with as much experience as you, who know that and would act accordingly.”

“Don’t bother being diplomatic. I know what you think.”

Beau was amused, but it was a sour amusement. He was wrong, though. He didn’t know what Archie thought. Not if he believed Archie thought he was stupid or callous or without principles. Maybe he did tend to forget that Beau had been a cop as long as he’d been a federal agent. And sure, Beau had his faults and weaknesses like everyone else, but stupidity, callousness, and a lack of principles weren’t among them.

Archie said neutrally, “What I think is that there’s no way you’re going to be able to keep this development from your team.”

Beau snorted. “Oh, come on. Every time Swenson opens his mouth you look like the family cat just offered an opinion.” He offered another of those crooked smiles. “And you’re right, half my team is ready for retirement and the other half is still wet behind the ears. But they’re all good people. Good officers. And I’m not the only one who’s going to think this...narrative is just a little too on the nose.

“However I have to spin this for the D.A., my team, the media, I promise you, it’ll be convincing. But I’d rather keep it quiet and uncomplicated for the time being. Better for you. Better for my case.”

Better for Archie, for damn sure.

But too much to ask from a guy who pretty much hated his guts. And more than Archie could contemplate owing that guy.

He shook his head. “I can’t let you—you’d be risking too much. I can contact my boss, explain the situation. She might be able to...”

No.

No, being arrested for murder was lightyears from a contentious interview with a former boyfriend LEO. Regardless of Deputy Assistant Director Wagner’s personal feelings, the Bureau would take swift steps to address the situation, including immediate suspension and an automatic internal investigation. Whatever was left of the Wyoming case, his case, would be handed off to other agents. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but it was how the Bureau operated. Dealing severely with compromised agents helped ensure that the FBI maintained its reputation for integrity—and public trust.

As Archie trailed to a halt, Beau said, “Sure. Or you could trust me to handle this in the way I think will work best for both.”

Archie met Beau’s steady blue gaze and then couldn’t seem to look away.

The uncomfortable truth was that he wanted to trust Beau. He wanted to believe that this was a genuine offer of help because deep down Beau still cared a little bit. He wanted to say, “I do trust you.” Because, for one thing, even after everything that had happened—and not happened—between them, he did still trust Beau. If Beau had ever come to him for help, he’d have done everything in his power to help him. He wanted to believe that worked both ways.

Instead, Archie said, “Of course, it might not be the murder weapon.”

“It might not be, but I’m having trouble coming up with a useful reason for planting a knife that isn’t the murder weapon.”

Archie couldn’t think of a reason either. He was so goddamned tired. So tired, that as much as he wanted to believe Beau had the insider’s track on this situation, he just could not see any way forward.

Beau glanced at him, glanced at him again, and said, “Okay. I’m going to have a word with Scarlett. You need to change rooms.”

Archie summoned the energy to say, “Not sure there’s a reason to frame me if they’re going to turn around and kill me.”

“No? Then you’re not thinking clearly. It’s a lot easier to frame someone who can’t argue with you than it is to frame someone who can’t stop arguing to save his life.”

Archie scowled at him.

“Anyway, it wouldn’t have to look like a murder.” Beau nodded at the nightstand where a small crowd of prescription meds containers were grouped together. “I’m guessing if someone was in here planting evidence, they saw this.”

Archie’s scalp prickled at the sight of that ready-made suicide scene. Jesus.

His expression must have revealed more than he intended, because Beau commented sardonically, “Mostly OTC pain relievers. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I’m not even taking half of it,” Archie protested.

Beau gave a short laugh. “Great. That’s reassuring.” He was shaking his head as he slipped out the door again.

While Beau was downstairs, presumably talking to Scarlett, Archie rose to...he wasn’t exactly sure. Pack? Yes, he should probably pack. He should probably see if he could find another hotel, because as a safe house, the Fraser Inn was certainly compromised. But as he got to his feet, his strength seemed to melt away, and he sank back down on the bed. It scared him, that sudden wave of weakness.

What the hell?

He did not have time for this. He had to act swiftly, decisively... Not sit here with black spots floating across his vision, cold sweat breaking out all over his body.