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truth out of him, and it took years before he trusted me enough to tell me.”
    “Shit.”
    She flinched. Funny that a woman who had seen evidence of abuse could still be taken aback by a bad word.
    Lord, but he wanted a drink. He wanted to fight the inevitable, because he knew if he found out the truth, he’d have to do something, and it wouldn’t be comfortable. His ex-friend Bruce Sawyer, a man he’d once had to arrest, would be delighted. Bruce’s words came back. “I’m glad you’re uncomfortable doing your job, you bastard. You should be in agony.”
    He said, “What did the marks look like?”
    “Raised, round marks.” She bit her lower lip hard enough so that the skin beneath her teeth went white. “And they were in a pattern that would not occur in nature. On his back and on the inside of his legs.”
    His turn to wince, but he pulled out the book he always carried and wrote down the description.
    She watched.
    “I do not understand how any doctor could have overlooked those marks, but I suspect they were paid a great deal of money. Can you imagine?” She scowled. “Oh, I forgot to whom I was speaking. You can. I don’t believe taking Peter from me is the usual assignment for a detective, removing a child from his home for no good reason. What kind of extra pay are you getting?”
    He wasn’t about to protest his innocence. There wasn’t money, but the work was corrupt. He stared back at her and didn’t speak.
    Mrs. Winthrop brushed a hand over her mouth. “I-I beg your pardon. It’s difficult to think about this and to talk about it with a stranger who never knew my husband. I was far too rude and—”
    “Stop.”
    She nodded, but the gutted wide-eyed look annoyed him. Her fear or distrust bothered him too.
    He held up a hand as if halting traffic. “I meant stop apologizing. This wasn’t the usual sort of assignment, you’re right.”
    His self-disgust was too much to bear sitting still. He shoved away his notebook, rose to his feet, and began to pace. “I like it better when you’re honest, so don’t go all polite or seductive with me again.”
    “I? Seductive? You were the one who flirted with me.” She sighed. “What an absurd thing to argue about. I assure you, I haven’t been dishonest with you, Detective Walker.”
    “I wish to God you lied. Life would be far easier if you were a liar.” And now self-pity as well as self-disgust filled him? He laughed and shook his head.
    “Am I amusing?”
    “No, not you.”
    “Tell me what’s funny?”
    He wasn’t about to tell her. “It’s a long story.”
    “We have nothing better to do, apparently. Talk to me. Why did you laugh? If you won’t tell me that, tell me why did you become a policeman?”
    Her gaze, direct and daring him to speak, made him want to explain himself. “I went into law enforcement for the usual reason idealistic young fools pursue the career, to help innocent people. That sort of…” He was going to say rot, but finished with, “thing.”
    She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “I doubt you’re still an idealistic man.”
    Walker shrugged. He walked over to the bag she’d stuffed with food—he’d watched her stuff the sack and wondered if she would leave him locked in the apartment. Smart move on her part.
    “Do you miss the person you were then?” She rose to her feet and quickly moved to his side.
    The back of his neck prickled: she didn’t want him going into that bag. He reached in and grabbed an apple. The woman went pale.
    He moved away from the bag. Yes, she definitely looked relieved. He’d figure that one out soon but suspected that that was where she’d put the book Brennan had handed to her. He suddenly grew more interested in the book.
    “I mean, do you miss your idealism?” she asked.
    He considered the question, because what the hell else was there to do? “I was something of a fool. I defied my family because I believed in what I was doing. Life was easier when