Page 12 of Duplicity

That’s hardly necessary.The kid wasn’t violent.

She had looked his history up, so that might not be the truth. He may very well be violet when provoked. Now that he’d spent months in prison, his instincts were likely wound even tighter.He might not be a threat to her, given the protections separating them, but he was a threat, nonetheless. A convicted cop killer.

His hair had grown out since court. He looked younger in a lot of ways, and in others, much older. Catalina wasn’t going to ask how he was being treated because she doubted she’d get a straight answer out of his mouth.

She lifted the phone and held it to her ear. When he did the same, she said, “Hey, Arlo.”

His dark eyes stared at her, unblinking. A muscle in his jaw flexed. “What do you want?”

Not many inmates were visited by the person they’d shot. She couldn’t blame him for always asking the question. He seemed more like one of the kids at the school rather than a hardened criminal.

“Did you think about what books you might want me to bring you?”

Arlo shrugged one shoulder.

“I read a great book a couple of weeks back. Military guys in this unit that retrieves artifacts from around the world that have properties that make them…magical. Some of them. Others were crazy inventions that were supposed to have been taken apart in, like, the Dark Ages. They get them out of the hands of evil people bent on destroying the world. I could bring some of those. I have the whole series.”

He shrugged again.

“Have you seen your mom lately, or Millie?”

“The baby ain’t comin’ here. I don’t wanna see her.” His tone tightened as he spoke, and he never relaxed.

Grief, not just for her partner, welled up in her. So many lives had been affected by what happened. “Do you need anything?”

He lifted his brows and shot her a look. “From you?”

“Because we could trade. Since there’s plenty I want from you.”

He frowned. “Like what?”

“How about the truth, for starters. Or the name of the person who ordered you to confess to a crime you didn’t commit.”

He started to shift in his seat.

She ignored it. “Perhaps why you’d feel like this was your only choice. I want to ask if you know who actually shot my partner and shot me because that person should be the one sitting across from me.”

His expression shuttered. Not that it had every truly opened. He wasn’t in a situation where he could let his guard down enough to display his true feelings. “What’s done is done.”

“I’m not letting this go.”

“Say what you want. Show up how many times you want. I’m not gonna tell you nothin’ besides what I told my lawyer. I shot two cops because Icould.Because cops deserve to die.” He slammed the phone down and called out to the guard, who led him out.

Cat replaced the phone and sat back in the chair.

He’d made his choice. Things were done, and he didn’t see how they could be changed. By all rights, she should let him live this life he seemed determined to stay stuck in. As if he had no choice, or as if the outcome had already been decided for him.

No one else saw a point to pursuing this, but something in her refused to let it go.

She signed out and got her things, stepping out into the late afternoon sun. The rush of summer warmth after the air-conditioning inside hit her like a wave. She needed a vacation but only had a week off between the end of summer school and the start of the new year prep for teachers before the kids came back.

She slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine to push out the sweltering air in here. The radio came on full volume, and the pastor being broadcast now read a verse aboutsin and its destructive ability. The way it tore apart lives and families—unless confession was made.

She leaned her head back against the seat and felt tears roll down her face.I haven’t done anything wrong.

So why did she feel this way?

SIX

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