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“You didn’t, goddamn it. I fucked up.”

“Great. Fine. We’re a couple of fuckups.”

He sank down in the chair as if the wind had gone out of him. “Maybe we are, but I got more years at it than you.”

“Now you want to pull rank on fuckup status? Great. Fine,” she repeated. “You get the salute. Feel better?”

“No, I don’t feel any goddamn better.” He let out a tired sigh that smothered the leading edge of her temper.

“What do you want, Feeney? What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to listen. I let it eat at me. This one got away from me and I let it eat at me. Taught you, didn’t I, that you can’t get them all, and you can’t beat yourself up when you can’t put the pieces together, not when you gave it your best.”

“Yeah, you taught me.”

“Didn’t listen to myself this time. And that bile just kept rising up out of my belly into my throat over it.” His lips tightened as he shook his head. “You find a fresh angle, and instead of jumping on that, grabbing hold and pushing on that, I jump on you. Part of me’s thinking, ‘Did I miss that? Did I miss that before, and did all those women die hard because I did?’”

“You know better than that, Feeney. And yeah, I get knowing better isn’t always enough. How good was I nine years ago?”

“Needed seasoning.”

“That wasn’t the question. How good was I?”

He drank again, then looked up at her. “You were the best I ever worked with, even then.”

“And I worked that case with you, minute by minute, step by step. We didn’t miss it, Feeney. It wasn’t there. The evidence, the statements, the pattern. If he got them that way, or some of them that way, the evidence wasn’t there to show us.”

“I spent a lot of time yesterday going over the files. I know what you’re saying. What I’m saying is that’s the reason I jumped on you.”

He thought of what his wife had said the night before. That he’d railed at Dallas because she was his family. That she’d let him rail because he was her family. Nobody, according to his Sheila, beat each other up as regularly or as thoughtlessly as family.

“Didn’t like you telling me I needed a break either,” he muttered. “Basically telling me I needed a damn nap, like somebody’s grandfather.”

“You are somebody’s grandfather.”

His eyes flashed at her, but there was some amusement in the heat. “Watch your step, kid.”

“I should’ve run the new angle by you before the briefing. No, I should have,” she insisted when he shook his head. “Like you should’ve known I would have if everything hadn’t been moving so fast. There’s nobody on the job, nobody with a badge I respect more than you.”

It took him a moment to clear his throat. “Same goes. I got one more thing, then this is closed.” He rose again. “I didn’t put you here. You never were a rookie,” he told her in a voice roughened with emotion. “So I saw good, solid cop the minute I laid eyes on you. I gave you a hell of a foundation, kid, a lot of seasoning and pushed you hard because I knew you could take it. But I didn’t put you here, and saying that, well, that was stupid. You put yourself here. And I’m proud. So that’s it.”

She only nodded. Neither of them would handle it well if she blubbered.

As he went out, he gave her two awkward pats on the shoulder, then closed the door behind him.

She had to stand where she was a minute until she was sure she had herself under control. After a few steadying breaths she turned, started to sit at her desk. Someone knocked on the door.

“What?” She wanted to snarl, then did just that when Nadine poked a head in. “Media conference at nine.”

“I know. Are you okay?”

“Peachy. Go away.”

Nadine just sidled in, shut the door at her back. “I came by a little while ago, and…well, let’s say overheard a few choice words in raised voices. The reporter in me fought with the reasonably well-mannered individual. It was a pitched battle, and did take a couple of minutes. Then I wandered off until I thought the coast was clear. So again, are you okay?”

“That was a private conversation.”

“You shouldn’t have private conversations in public