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TOX WAS ALREADYin the interrogation room with Claudia’s parents. Not only was it one of the unfriendliest rooms in the station to speak to them, but I had no idea what he’d already said. I felt my stomach tighten as I spotted him sitting there in the cramped, musty room beyond the two-way mirror, their horrified faces. Mom and Dad had recently been crying. She was a heavy blond woman, and their daughter’s lean features and dark hair came from her mustached father. I threw open the door just in time.

“… breast implants?” Tox was saying.

“What?” Mrs. Burrows frowned. She glanced at me, her mouth twisted.

“Yeah, what?” I sat down beside Tox.

“I was just asking Mr. and Mrs. Burrows here how long it had been since their daughter got those breast implants.” He looked lazily at me. “You did notice the cadaver had breast implants, right?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Burrows.” I put my hands calmly on the table beside the handcuff hooks. “I must apologize for my partner here. Detective Barnes has been under a lot of stress and isn’t thinking clearly.”

Tox folded his hands on the table beside mine, imitating me. “Look, your daughter was found deceased this morning, and that’s very sad. But I’m sure that you’ll get over that sadness and want to catch whoever did this, eventually. Well, you know what? We want to catch whoever did this now. It’s our job, see. Now your daughter had fake tits—”

“Tox!” I yelped.

“—and I’m putting together the exaggerated size of those tits, and her petite figure, and the approximate cost of such a surgical enhancement, and your obvious middle-classness—I’m going to take a leap and say she was a prostitute.”

“Jesus!” I clapped a hand over my eyes.

“Actually, it’s not a leap at all,” Tox confirmed. “She was a prostitute, wasn’t she?”

The Burrowses sat stunned. I got up and grabbed Tox’s arm and yanked him toward the door.

“I’ll be back,” I told the couple. “Just sit tight.”

Tox turned on me in the hallway.

“What is it with you and wasting time?” he grunted, almost irritated. “I was on a roll in there.”

“You were not on a roll,” I snapped. “You were on anything but a roll. You were traumatizing the dead girl’s parents.”

“Jesus Christ!” Tox threw his hands up, flapped them dramatically, trying to imitate my voice with his gravelly tones. “You’re sticking your finger in the dead girl. You’re smoking near the dead girl. You’re traumatizing the parents of the dead girl. You sure you’re right for this job, Detective? You might find yourself better employed in undertaking. You’re in love with the dead girl.”

“You just… you can’t talk to people this way.” I was so horrified, the words wouldn’t come. “These parents are grieving. No, they’re probably not even grieving yet. They’re probably still in shock.”

“Is the emotional state of these people really your priority right now?” Tox shook his head in disbelief. “First you want me to slow down so that we can go through all the procedural bullshit surrounding the corpse. Now you want me to slow down so we can go through all the emotional crap with the parents. Do you actually want to solve this case or are you just trying to score overtime?”

“It’s not crap, it’s… it’s life!”

“Not my life,” Tox snorted.

A pair of patrol cops were walking down the hall toward us, carrying folders full of papers. One bumped hard into my shoulder as she passed, causing me to drop my phone. My punishment had begun. Nearby, an older officer I knew, Chris Murray, was fielding a call and glaring at us, taking in the figure of my new partner with obvious distaste.

“How long has the couple been missing?” Murray was saying into his mobile. “And what’s the name of the boat?”

“Listen.” I pointed at Tox. “If we’re going to work together on this, there need to be rules. I think number one should be that I do all the talking, all the time.”

“Geh,” he grunted. “Sounds just like a woman. All the talking, all the time.”

He went back into the interrogation room. I held my face in my hands for a long moment, relishing the darkness. When I lifted my head there were about five people in the bullpen staring at me, each set of eyes more hateful than the last.