“Who?” Felicity asked. “Arthur McCann?”

“He’s one, obviously. But there’re more… A handful of uniforms. Couple of detectives… Couple of the higher-ups, including the new chief…”

“What about my track record?” I asked.

He started shaking his head again, “I got news for ya’, Row. Your track record has a few potholes, which is another reason why you aren’t scorin’ any points. Right now you’re kinda looked upon as a loose cannon.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he continued. “Chasin’ after Porter on that bridge, the thing at the morgue…”

“What about you?” I asked with a nod in his direction. “What do you think?”

He fell silent for a moment, looked away, then sighed before bringing his eyes back to meet mine.

“After what you did a few weeks back, I think maybe you might be a bit of a danger to yourself, yeah.”

He was talking about the fact that I had deliberately run his van through a set of plate-glass windows in order to get inside a building.

“That was different, and you know it,” I argued. “The sonofabitch had Felicity in there.”

“Yeah,” he rebutted. “And that’s the only reason I let it go, white man. If you’ll remember correctly, I lied about what really happened on my report.”

I didn’t have a comeback for the comment because I knew he had done exactly that.

“Listen, Row,” he started after an uncomfortable silence. “You’ve still got friends in the department, and I’m one of them.”

“Even though you think I’m a danger to myself,” I volunteered with a slightly sarcastic edge to my voice.

“Yeah, even though,” he echoed. “Cut me some slack here. I know what you can do. I’ve seen it first hand. And I’m even willin’ to trust you if you wanna know the truth.”

“Trust me to what?”

“To help stop this bastard.”

“That will be hard to do if I’m cut off from the investigation.”