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Charlotte climbed into the passenger seat, her back sore from sleeping on a metal cot covered in a mattress no thicker than a pencil eraser. “What shit storm?” She was so tired, hungry, and grimy that nothing he was saying made sense.

As he drove her home, Jayson explained how the chief and a few other high-level members of the task force had been outed for corruption. The entire investigation against Alex had been dropped and probably wouldn’t be touched again.

Leaning back against the headrest, Charlotte listened in a daze while Jayson talked. Apparently, mob ties and corruption charges had come to light and sent heads rolling.

The bad news was the chief was no longer able to make good on his promises, but Jayson insisted he’d been working on getting a spot on the homicide squad and wasn’t worried about it.

“I’m so sorry about all this, Jay. I never imagined this would turn out like this.”

“Not everything is your fault, Charlie. The worst thing you did was fall in love. Can that really be so bad? I don’t want any favors from a crooked cop anyway. Who knows what he would’ve asked for in return later.”

Charlotte was too worn out to cry. “I’m a month shy of thirty and when I finally decide to fall, it’s in the most spectacularly disastrous way possible. I ruined it, Jay.

There’s no getting her back.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he replied with a hand on her shoulder. “If she feels the way you do, I bet she just needs to cool down. I was really upset, but once I got out of my own feelings and I put myself in your shoes . . . I kind of understood how you ended up making the calls you did. If she loves you, I bet she’ll see that too.”

With an aching chest, Charlotte shook her head. “The hell you and I have been through together. . . she and I haven’t had history like that. There hasn’t been time for me to show her who I am.”

“Have faith.” He squeezed her arm. “Stranger things have happened. Plus, I can always put in a good word for you.”

“No,” she chuckled despite herself. “That might do more harm than good. I doubt she’ll be keen on having law enforcement on her doorstep. Not for a while at least.”

He shot a glance at her as he turned toward her apartment complex. “Even if I’m not, like, a regular cop? I’m a cool cop.”

Charlotte smirked as she wiped her face. His obsession with the movie Mean Girls was concerning, but she loved it more than ever.

After giving Jayson another hug and stopping in at Frania’s to thank her, Charlotte finally made it inside her apartment alone.

Three scalding hot showers weren’t enough, but after she’d scrubbed her skin raw, she was as clean as she was going to get.

Half-asleep and zoned out in front of re-runs of Hoarders

, a knock at her door set Charlotte’s hammering heart crawling into her mouth. In a flash, she was back in the cramped interrogation room. Two detectives and the chief of police were angry and desperate. Yelling at her. Berating her.

Threatening her.

It didn't take long to realize they needed her to give them something. Eric and the Thatchers weren’t viable. Their case against Alex was disintegrating before their very eyes.

After twenty-four hours, they started making her promises. The chief flaunted all the connections he had. Not only could he guarantee her a spot at the FBI, but he’d also make sure she got whatever post she wanted.

When the carrot didn’t work, they brought back the stick.

One of the detectives was an inch from her face, his breath sour from black co ee, as he laid out the hell he’d bring upon her. Not only were her dreams of getting into the FBI over, but she’d be a convicted felon. She’d lose her apartment and have no chance of getting another. No one would hire her to work anywhere near money ever again.

And she’d have a target on her back for as long as she lived in the county. For every tiny tra c infraction any cop saw, she’d get a ticket. In no time she’d lose her driver’s license.

They promised to drive her out of town or out of her mind.

Maybe both.

For thirty-six hours, Charlotte endured without breaking.

She played it inept rather than defiant; she admitted nothing.

For her temerity, they put her in jail for three days.

Charlotte’s hands shook at the memory. The clanging of cell doors. The yelling and screaming of a hundred women packed together. The stink of urine, acrid and putrid, filled Charlotte’s nostrils.