“I’m sorry, Claire,” Gunnar said.

I nodded. But I couldn’t stop to think about regret or how presumptuous Broussard had been, how sorry he should have been, and probably never would be. That would only enrage me even more, and Containment wasn’t exactly on my good side right now.

The damage had been done. It was time to clean it up.

•   •   •

Gunnar offered to help before heading back to Containment, and I accepted. We worked in silence, started with the furniture. Turning over chairs. Righting tables. We put drawers back in their homes, piled their contents on top of tables. Together, we got the stand for the walking sticks upright again, began slotting them back into their spaces. They’d broken three of them—one basic cane, a stick with a brass monkey on the end, and a stick that held a small sewing kit. They’d left the broken slivers of wood, but taken the sewing kit. Because a couple of old needles, a bit of string, and a thimble were clearly the keys to my evil plan.

I put the pieces of the sticks on the counter, looked back at him. “I didn’t ask you why you came into the store.”

Gunnar was putting antique silverware they’d upended back into its box. He smiled. “I came by to give you an update—Emme’s doing better. Her fever’s gone, and she’s been up and around the house.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s good. Any other sign of the wraiths?”

He shook his head, divvied up forks and spoons into their slots. “No. But there was another pair sighted in Mid-City last night. They didn’t harass anyone that we know of, but the monitors are farther apart out there.”

I nodded. “Why would Containment authorize the warrant?”

“Specifically, I don’t know. Broussard must have made a case.”

I had to ask. There just wasn’t any way around it. So I gathered up my courage, looked at him. “I need to ask you something.”

He looked up at me, brows lifted.

“I’m sorry, but I have to know: Broussard questioned me about Liam. Did you tell them I’ve seen him since the night of the wraith attack? That he’s been here?”

Gunnar froze, a serving spoon in hand. I could see the hurt in his eyes, the set of his jaw. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not saying you’d have done it on purpose, but is there something you could have said that would make them suspect me of something?”

He put down the spoon, turned around to look at me. “Let’s start with logic, Connolly.” He only called me “Connolly” when he was angry. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Containment interviewed you and Quinn in here after the Quarter wraith attack. You walked through the gate with him, were verified by the Containment guards. And when Solomon’s men attacked you both—which you also didn’t tell me—agents responded. You also admitted to Broussard that you knew Liam.”

I guess he’d read that report, too. “I had to ask.”

“Did you, Claire? Did you have to ask if your best friend played the snitch?”

“Someone told them something,” I said. “You and Burke are the only people I know in Containment.” I could have been wrong, but I had a pretty good sense Burke wasn’t talking.

“Are we?” Gunnar’s expression chilled. “Liam Quinn works for Containment.”

“He’s a contractor. He doesn’t really work for them.”

Gunnar’s expression didn’t change. “The paychecks come from the same place either way.” He crossed his arms. “You started acting different the second he walked into your life. You sure this isn’t about him? Are you sure you can trust him?”