Standish was sweating. “I went back later when Twen was gone and questioned the bartender. He swore up and down he’d kept the briefcase safe, that nobody had touched it—but he was really nervous, and I found out later that they’re dating. So… I can’t be sure.”
“Jesus, Standish. Taking files out of the office? That’s, like, a fireable offense. And it wasn’t even your case!”
“I know, but…”
“But you’re an ambitious guy.”
“Yeah. I…” He swallowed. “I can’t have Holmes thinking it’s you. I have to go tell her.”
Cash stared at him, mind racing. She couldn’t let Standish take the fall for this, even if it was his fault. He was a capable guy, and the Shrouder case was in good hands. And plus, he was definitely going to keep her in the loop now. “Hell no.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll be cashiered.”
He stared at her, thunderstruck. “And let her think it’s you? You’d… do this for me?”
“Not for you. For thecase.”
He was really flushed now. “I can’t allow you to take the fall.”
“I’m not taking any fucking fall. Holmes doesn’t knowfor sureit’s me, and she’ll never find the evidence, because it doesn’t exist. As for you, Twen will never tell. You don’t even know that Twen looked at your files. The leak might be in the sheriff’s office or somewhere else. So… let it go. Do nothing. And never take files home again.”
He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Cash. I’m so stupid.”
“We’re both stupid.”
“Thank you. I won’t forget this.”
Cash got up. “Hey, Standish. If you want to do me a favor, find Reno’s killer. Oh, and one last thing.”
Standish looked at her expectantly.
“The baby oil. Lose the baby oil. It’s not doing you any favors.”
