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“Get out. Think about what you’re saying and we’ll talk when you’re not… not all wound up.”

Davis is suddenly too tired to stand. Who knew how exhausting confrontations of this sort could be? She sits and puts her open purse on the little desk. Her phone is inside, recording.

“You also planted drugs in Coughlin’s truck. At the high school.”

He recoils as if she had struck at him with her fist. “That’s an outrageous accusation!”

“It was outrageous that you did it. Coughlin got suspicious when the kid who works with him saw you park in back instead of in the faculty lot. Coughlin searched his truck, found the dope, and turned it over to me.”

“What? When?”

“I met him at a coffee shop in Great Bend after the meeting where he challenged us to arrest him. Which we could not do then and can’t now, as I’m sure you found out in Wichita.”

“He’s a liar! And you went behind my back! Thanks, partner!”

She flushes. She can’t help it.

Jalbert is running his hands through his thick mat of receding hair. “If there were drugs in his truck, he planted them himself. He’s sly, oh boy, is he ever. And you actually believed his story?” Jalbert shakes his head. His tone is pitying, but what she sees in his eyes is bare unvarnished fury. Be careful of this man, she thinks, Danny was right about that.

“I had no idea you were so credulous, Ella. Has he convinced you of his dream story, too? Are you on his side now?”

“I’ve spoken to Trooper Calten.”

That stops him.

“Coughlin saw his name tag. I called Calten and told him I knew who set up the plant and the search. I said I’d keep his participation quiet if he told me what his role was. He did.”

Jalbert goes to the window, looks out, then comes back to her. “I didn’t want him for the dope. I wanted him for Miss Yvonne. I wanted him locked up so I could turn the screws. Where’s the dope now?”

“In a safe place.” That last question is a tiny bit frightening. She doesn’t really believe Frank would hurt her, but he’s not right. There’s no question of that.

He goes to the window again and comes back again. His lips are moving. He’s counting. Does he even know he’s doing it? She doesn’t think so.

“He killed her. Raped her and killed her. Coughlin. You know he did.”

She thinks of Coughlin asking her about her cross—did she wear it just for show, or was she a believer? Then he asked her if she could believe in God but not his dream.

“Frank, listen carefully. In this context it no longer matters whether he killed her or not. Here in this room all that matters is you telling me you’re going to write an email to Don Tishman saying you need to take a leave of absence for personal reasons and you’re planning to retire.”

“Never!” He’s clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Either that or I go to Tishman and tell him what you’ve done. The call to Andersson might not get you fired, but the dope thing certainly will. More, it will muddy up any case we might be able to make against Danny Coughlin so completely that even that smalltown lawyer Ball could get him off.”

“You’d do that?”

“You did it!” Davis cries, standing up. “You screwed the case, you screwed yourself, and you screwed me, as well! Look at the mess you made!”

“We can’t let him get away,” Jalbert says. He’s looking around the room, eyes not settling anywhere. “He did it.”

“If you believe that, don’t fuck up any chance we have of nailing him. I’m leaving now. It’s a big decision, I know. Sleep on it.”

“Sleep?” he says, and laughs. “Sleep!”

“I’ll call you tomorrow morning. See how you feel. But the choice is pretty clear, it seems to me. Step down and we still have a chance of making a case against Coughlin. There’ll be no nasty mess about planted evidence and you get to keep your pension.”

“Do you think I care about my pension?” he shouts. Cords stand out on his neck. Ella keeps her eyes locked on his. She’s afraid to take them away.

“You might not care about it now, in the heat of the moment, but you will later. And I know you still care about Yvonne Wicker. Think carefully, Frank. I’ll let this slide if you step away, but it all comes out if you don’t, and oy vey, the stench.”