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Mendes looks between us, his stare firm and full of anger.

“Then get me something useful. Because my patience is running out.”

I don't know what the hell is going on with Mendes, but I've worked under him long enough to know something isn't right. He's never been this involved in one of our cases. He’s never been so on edge or demanded this many updates.

He certainly never cared this much about one witness, and gave us room to do our jobs the way we know how.

The question is why.

Why is he acting like this?

He dismisses us, so we head back to our office to finish the day. I close the door behind us, and follow Forge over to his desk and lower my voice when I speak.

“He's acting strange,” I say.

Forge drops into his chair. “He's pissed because we're not getting anywhere and we’re not following orders.”

“We're getting somewhere,” I correct. “And you know why we aren’t following orders.”

“Do I?”

I glare at him.

“I don’t mean the scent-match part,” he adds. “Even before that happened, you were stuck on not listening to him, and I don’t know why.”

“You don’t know why?” I repeat, needing to make sure I heard that right.

“That’s what I said.”

“So you want to bring her in?”

“Hell no I don’t want to bring her in.”

“Then I don’t understand the disconnect here, Forge.”

“Look,” he says with a sigh. “Neither do I, okay? I’m really fucking confused about all of this. Trying to handle this scent match thing and the case? I mean, we could bond with her and she could be a murderer.”

“You’re still on that?”

“I don’t think she did it,” he growls. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility, and maybe Mendes knows more than he wants us to know, and there’s a reason he’s stuck on talking to her himself.”

“Which you’re not going to let him do.”

“Hell no.”

“Do you hear yourself?” I grit out. “You’re not making sense.”

He stares at me, blinking, for a long moment.

“I don’t want to argue with you about this,” he finally says.

“Then get on my fucking side,” I snap.

“I’m trying,” he says. “I don’t like keeping shit from him. That’s not how we do things.”

“Well, neither do I, but we both know that sometimes the person who committed the crime is the last person you expect.”

“Whoa,” he says, his eyes widening. “Now that’s a big statement.”