Dom waited. Didn't push. Just gave me space to get there.
“They found him in his car. Single gunshot wound. Ruled it suicide within forty-eight hours.” I turned back to the kettle, because looking at Dom while talking about this felttoo raw. “Except James wasn't suicidal. Had a wife. Two kids. Was coaching his son's football team. Planning his daughter's birthday party. Those aren't the actions of someone about to eat a bullet.”
The kettle started its low rumble. I watched steam begin to curl from the spout.
“The ballistics were wrong. Angle didn't match self-infliction. Powder burns weren't consistent with contact wound. But the investigation got closed fast. Too fast. With a conclusion that made everyone comfortable except the people who actually knew James.”
“You tried to fight it,” Dom said quietly.
“I tried to investigate it. Got shut down. Got told to let it go. Got forced out when I wouldn't.” My hands tightened on the counter edge. “Witnesses who'd seen something that night all recanted. Couldn't remember what they'd told the first officers. Evidence disappeared from the case file. And suddenly James was just another cop who couldn't handle the pressure.”
“But you knew better.”
“I knew James. Knew he wasn't the kind of man who'd quit. So I started digging. Found patterns. Found other cases where evidence vanished and witnesses changed their stories. Found Harrow's name attached to every single one.” I finally looked at Dom. “That's when I understood. James died because he got too close to proving the corruption was systematic. And the system he trusted killed him to protect itself.”
Dom's face had gone harder.
“That's why I don't trust legal channels or proper procedure or anyone who thinks playing by rules will get justice.” I gestured at the whiteboard. “James believed in the system. Followed protocol. Documented everything correctly. And they murdered him for it. Made it look like shame. Like he'd done something wrong and couldn't live with it.”
“I'm sorry,” Dom said. “That shouldn't have happened to him.”
“No. It shouldn't have.” I turned away, busied myself with pouring coffee that would taste like shit regardless. “But it did. And the people responsible faced no consequences. So forgive me if I'm not interested in working within systems that have already proven they'll sacrifice good people to protect corrupt ones.”
Dom moved closer. Not aggressively. Just close enough that the small flat felt smaller.
“Is that why you don't let anyone in?” he asked. “Why you live like this, working yourself to exhaustion, trusting no one?”
“I let people in. They die.” I wrapped my hands around the mug, welcomed the burn. “Or they get corrupted. Or they decide protecting their career matters more than doing what's right.”
“Except you.”
I nodded and took a sip. “You've been working your sister's case solo since it happened. Trusting no one. Following every lead yourself.”
“And it got me nowhere,” Dom said.
“What do you want, Dom? Why are you really here?” I said changing the subject.
“Because you've been avoiding me since the museum. We agreed to keep each other informed. You're not holding up your end.”
“I'm working. That's what I do.”
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell him. “That's not partnership. That's you reverting to old habits.”
I held his gaze, jaw tight. “I don't need babysitting.”
“Tell me what you're planning.”
“I'm going to the courthouse,” I said finally. “Today. To access an archive room that officially doesn't exist. Connected to Harrow's circuit. Where evidence goes to die.”
Dom's expression didn't change. “How are you getting in?”
“Charm. Misdirection. The usual methods.”
“You mean seduction.”
“I mean whatever works.” I met his eyes. “Does that bother you?”
His jaw tightened. “Yes.”
