"I'll have to testify. That doesn't make you angry? That doesn't make you want to-oh, say, plant a live snake in my Jeep?"

He leaned toward her and gently patted her cheek. "If I wanted to hurt you, chère, I wouldn't leave it up to no snake."

"Should I be relieved or afraid for my life?"

Fourcade said nothing.

"I don't trust you," she admitted.

"I know."

"If you pull any more of that crazy shit like you did last night, I'm gone," she declared. "And if I have to shoot you, I will."

"I'm not your enemy, 'Toinette."

"I hope that's true. I have enough of them right now. And I have them because of you," Annie pointed out.

"Who ever said life was fair? Sure as hell wasn't me."

He turned and walked away. He didn't invite her in; he expected her to follow him. No social niceties for Fourcade. They passed through the parlor, a room furnished with a toolbox and a sledgehammer. The floor was covered with a dirty canvas drop cloth. The kitchen was an absolute contrast -clean, bright, newly Sheetrocked, and painted the color of buttermilk. As tidy as a ship's galley. Nothing adorned the walls. Fresh herbs grew in a narrow tray on the windowsill above the sink.

Fourcade went to the sink to wash his hands.

"What changed your mind?" he asked.

"Noblier pulled me off patrol because the other deputies won't play nice. I gotta figure he won't promote me into your job anytime soon. So, if I want in on this case, you're my ticket."

He expressed no sympathy, and asked for no details about her trouble with Mullen or the others. It was her problem, not his.

"Get yourself assigned to Records and Evidence," he said, turning around, drying his hands on a plain white towel. "You can read the files all day, study the reports."

"I'll see what I can do. It's up to the sheriff."

"Don't be passive," he snapped. "Ask for what you want."

"And you think I'll just get it?" Annie laughed. "You're really not from this planet, are you, Fourcade?"

His face grew hard. "You won't get anything you don't ask for one way or another, sugar. You better learn that lesson fast, you want this job. People don't just give up their secrets. You gotta ask, you gotta pry, you gotta dig."

"I know that."

"Then do it."

"I will. I have," she insisted. "I spoke with Donnie Bichon today."

Fourcade looked surprised. "And?"

"And he seems like a man with a conscience problem. But then maybe you don't wanna hear that-the two of you being so close and all."

"I have no ties to Donnie Bichon."

"He bailed you out of jail to the tune of a hundred thousand dollars."

He rested his hands at the waist of his fatigue pants. "As I said to Donnie, I will say to you: He bought my freedom, he did not buy me. No one buys me. "

"A refreshing policy for a New Orleans cop."

"I'm no longer in New Orleans. I didn't assimilate well."

"That's not what I've been reading," Annie said. "I spent the better part of the afternoon at the library. According to the Times-Picayune, you were the quintessential corrupt cop. You got a lotta ink down there. None of it good."

"The press is easily manipulated by powerful people."

Annie winced. "Oooh, you know, it's remarks like that that lead people to draw unflattering conclusions about your sanity."

"People think what they want. I know the truth. I lived the truth."

"And your version of the truth would be what?" she pressed.

He simply stared at her, and she saw the bleakness of a soul who had lived a long, hard life and had seen too much that wasn't good.

"The truth is that I did my job too well," he said at last.

"And I made the mistake of caring too deeply for justice in a place that has none, existentially speaking."

"Did you beat that suspect?"

He said nothing.

"Did you plant that evidence?"

He bowed his head for a moment, then turned his back to her and pulled a cast-iron skillet from a lower cupboard.

She wanted to go to him, demand the truth, but she was afraid to get that near him. Afraid something might rub off on her-his intensity, his compulsion, the darkness that permeated his being. She was already involving herself in this case beyond the call of duty. She didn't want to go beyond reason, and she had a strong feeling Fourcade could take her there in a heartbeat.

"I need an answer, Detective."

"It's irrelevant to the present case."

"Prior bad acts inadmissible on the ground they may taint the opinion of the court? Bull. More often than not they establish a pattern of behavior," Annie argued. "Besides, we're not in court; we're in the real world. I have to know who I'm dealing with, Fourcade, and I already told you, I'm not long on trust at the moment."

"Trust is of no use in an investigation," he said, moving between stove, refrigerator, and butcher block. He set an assortment of vegetables on the chopping block and selected a knife of frightening proportions.

"It is with regards to partners," Annie insisted. "Did you plant that ring in Renard's desk?"

He looked up at her then, unblinking. "No."

"Why should I believe you? How do I know Donnie Bichon didn't pay you to plant it? He could have paid you to kill Renard the other night, for all I know."

He sliced into a red bell pepper as if it were made of thin paper. "Now who's paranoid?"

"There's a difference between healthy suspicion and delusion."

"Why would I invite you into the investigation if I was dirty?"

"So you can use me like a puppet to achieve your own end."

He smiled. "You are far too smart for that, 'Toinette."

"Don't waste your flattery."

"I don't believe in flattery. Me, I say what's true."

"When it suits you."

She sighed as they came around the circle again. A conversation with Fourcade was like shadowboxing-all effort and no satisfaction.

"Why me?" she asked. "Why not Quinlan or Perez?"

"It's a small division. We live in each other's pockets. One itches, another one scratches. You're outside the circle -that's an advantage." He flashed the grin again, bright with a charm he never used. "You're my secret weapon, 'Toinette."

She tried one last time to talk herself out of this lunacy. But she didn't want to, and he knew it.

"You feel an obligation, a tie to Pam Bichon," he said, "and to those who've gone before her. You feel the shadows. That's why you're here. That and you know we want the same end, you and I: Renard in hell."

"I want the case cleared," Annie said. "If Renard did it-"

"He did it."

"-then fine. I'll dance in the street the day they send him from Angola to the next life. If he didn't do it-"

He jabbed the point of the knife into the butcher block. "He did it."

Annie said nothing. She had to be out of her mind to come here to him.

"It's simple," he said, calmer. He pulled the knife out of the block and began to dice an onion. "I have what you need, 'Toinette. Facts, statements, answers to questions you have yet to ask. All of it can be checked if need be. You have an inquisitive mind, a free will, an appropriate skepticism. I have no power over you…" The knife stilled. He looked at her from under his brow. "Do I?"

"No," she said quietly, glancing away.

"Then we can proceed. But first, we eat."