But the hell of it was that she did want to talk about it. She needed to talk about it. Because the longer she was on this job, the more she was beginning to understand just how broken the world was—and not just out there on the streets, either. It was just as broken within the walls of every police station in the city, in every conversation with well-to-do men of European descent. And here she was, somehow mixed up in the middle of it and mixed up with a man who, though he was trying very hard to break through that barrier, still had tensions pulling him backward.
“Well,” Lottie said, clearly uncomfortable that she couldn’t help, “you let me know if you change your mind. I’d offer to go beat someone up for you, but I feel like you’d never need that sort of help.”
Before Ava could say anything in response, there was a knock at the door. Before either of them could call out for the knocker to enter, the door opened. It was Frank; of course it was Frank.
Lottie looked back and forth between the two of them and then sneered at Frank. “You. Are you the cause of this?”
Frank held his hands up in mock surrender. “I swear I come only as a friend.”
“Sure,” Lottie said. She then looked over to Ava and gave her a frown. “You need me to scram for a while?”
Ava nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
Lottie got up from her desk, taking a piece of mail with her. As she passed by Frank, she gave him that same sneer again and pointed at him. “I’m sure you’d take me in a fight, but I can still hurt you. I know how—and where—to scratch, mister.”
She made her exit and as her footfalls clicked up the stairs, Frank stepped into the office. He kept his distance, only coming a few steps inside.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’ve never lost a loved one like you have. And no matter what things look like between us, I have no right to mention him. For that, I am deeply sorry.” He stopped for a moment, giving her a chance to speak, but Ava chose to remain quiet. Frank cleared his throat and went on: “I do stand by my worry that you may have already made up your mind about Carter Epps—that’s he’s innocent just because you’re familiar with the world of struggling bands. It wasn’t an issue I thought about when I brought the case to you. And you know what? Yes, I did nab that case because I was looking for…I don’t know…maybe approval from you.”
“Approval?” Ava asked. “What do you need my approval for?”
“Okay, maybe not approval. Maybe your favor. I don’t do relationships well, which I suppose is why I’ve never married. So when you and I had the argument last night, I quickly acted in a way that I thought might mend it.”
“Handpicking cases you know I’ll have an attachment to may not be the best way to do that. Just so you know for the future.”
“I’ve taken note of that. That being said, I think we should stick with this case.”
“Oh, I plan to. There’s just too much that doesn’t make sense. And I’m willing to give you an out if you want it. If you think my judgment is skewed and you want no part of it, I get it.”
“No. I want to come along. I’d like to see how this pans out, too. If Carter Epps isn’t the killer, that means the guilty party is still out there somewhere. And I wouldn’t be a very good detective if that didn’t bother me.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Speaking of bad detectives,” Frank said, “we were talking about how the dicks upstairs don’t have a clue about us. So how is it that Lottie knows?”
“Because she thinks like a compassionate human first, and a cop second. Plus, women are just smarter than men when it comes to that sort of thing.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Frank asked with an uncertain smile.
Ava got up and walked to the door, passing by him without so much as a look. “If you want it to be…sure. Now come on. Let’s go figure out if Carter Epps is guilty or if there’s a killer currently lurking the streets.”