“Now what?” Barbie asked.

“I love you,” Ken said.

“What?”

He turned toward her. “I never told you. But you know.”

She nodded. “I love you too.”

He smiled and took her hand.

“Why did you tell me now?” Barbie asked.

“I will do anything to protect you. I want you to know that.”

“I know that too.”

He took out his cell phone and dialed the number. It was answered on the third ring.

“Goldberg.”

Ken said, “Hello, Deputy Chief Goldberg.”

Silence on the other end of the phone.

“I remembered that you didn’t want me to call you Mr. Goldberg,” Ken continued. “You said that you preferred Deputy Chief Goldberg.”

“Yeah,” he said in the wariest of voices. “What do you want? I’m kinda busy here.”

“I don’t mean to disturb you, Deputy Chief Goldberg, but this is a matter of some urgency.”

“I’m listening.”

“Your colleague Detective Broome just entered your precinct.”

“So?”

“He is with a woman named Megan Pierce.”

Silence.

“We will need to talk to her.”

“The same way you talked to Harry Sutton?”

“That isn’t your concern.”

“Like hell it’s not. Why do you think I’m so busy?”

“Deputy Chief Goldberg, please find a way for us to reach her.”

“Reach her?”

“Let us know how and when she’ll be leaving. It might be best to encourage her to leave alone.”

Silence.

“Mr. Goldberg?”

No “Deputy Chief” this time. The slip had been intentional.

“Got it,” Goldberg said before hanging up.

Ken took Barbie’s hand. “Should we get married?” he asked.

“That’s hardly an appropriate proposal.”

But she smiled when she said it, and his heart soared. He sat with this woman who meant so much to him, his partner in everything really, his soul mate like no other, and just let his heart soar. “You’re right. I’ll prepare a proper proposal.”

“And I’ll prepare a proper way to say yes.”

They held hands and watched the door and just enjoyed the moment. A few minutes later, Detective Broome exited without the woman. Barbie let go of his hand. “We should split up,” she said.

“But we just got engaged,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Not officially, mister. But you know I’m right. You take the car and follow the detective. I will keep an eye on the precinct.”

“Don’t take her on yourself,” he said.

She shook her head and dazzled him with a smile.

“What?”

“We aren’t even married yet and already you’re bossing me around like a husband. Go.”

LORRAINE WAS PULLING THE HANDLE for a draft beer when Broome approached. She looked up and gave him that crooked smile. “Well, well, as I live and breathe.”

“Hey, Lorraine.”

“You want a drink, or are you going to give me that classic line about being on duty?”

Broome sat down. “I am on duty. And, yeah, pour me two fingers.”

She finished with the draft and sauntered—Lorraine never walked, she sauntered—toward the corner of the bar where they kept the good stuff. Broome spun around on the stool. There was a line at the buffet. An actual line for the food. On the stage a girl danced with the enthusiasm of a coma patient. The old Neil Diamond classic “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” played through the speaker system.

Lorraine handed him the drink. “Something I can do for you, Detective?”

“Do you have a guess?”

Lorraine arched an eyebrow. “I assume you’re not back for a second round.”

“I wish.”

“Liar.”

Broome didn’t know how to take that one, so he pressed on. “I talked to your old friend Cassie or Megan or whatever you want to call her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The situation is bad. Did you hear about Harry Sutton?”

Lorraine nodded as a shadow crossed her face. “Did you know him, Broome?”

“A little.”

“He was just the best. Harry had this way about him, I mean, everyone loved Harry. Even you cops. You know why? Because he was genuine. And he always cared. Biggest heart I ever saw. He believed in everyone. There were some girls in here I couldn’t stand. Obnoxious pains in the ass, sure, but some were just plain bad. But Harry, he’d still try to find the good. He’d still want to help and not just to get in their pants, though, hell, he sometimes did that too. Who could resist a guy who looked at you like that—like you really mattered, you know?” Lorraine shook her head. “Why would anyone hurt someone like Harry?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Broome said.

“It’s corny,” she said, working the bar with a dishrag, “but the world is a little crappier today without him in it. You can just feel it.”

“Then help me, Lorraine. For Harry.”

“What, you think I know something about it?”

“It’s all connected,” Broome said. “Harry’s death is just one part. I got a guy in jail for eighteen years who may be innocent. Carlton Flynn is missing, and there are a lot of other men missing or dead.”

He stopped.

“Including,” Lorraine said, clearly seeing the light, “Stewart Green.”

“Yes.”

Lorraine cleaned the bar a little more. “So Cassie told you I was the one who saw him.”

“I sort of forced her to give up the name.”

Lorraine gave him the grin again. “You’re such a tough guy, Broome.”

“She wanted to call you first, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

“Because of our past?”

Broome shrugged and took a deep sip. “Did you see Stewart Green?”

“I can’t be sure.”

He just looked at her a little longer.

“Yeah, okay,” Lorraine said. “I saw him.”

Two gray-haired men came up to her bar. The taller one leaned forward, winked, and said, “Hey, Lorraine, the usual.”

“Use the other bar,” Broome said.

“Huh?”

“This bar is closed.”

“You’re sitting here, ain’t ya?”