“Get Detective Harris,” Vance said into the receiver. “Tell him we have Stephanie Lattimore in custody.”

He looked at me.

“We are going to bring her in for questioning,” Vance said. “And we are going to offer her the deal.”

“Will she take it?” I asked.

“Once she realizes Derek left her to do the dirty work while he hid,” Marisol said. “She will.”

“I want to see her,” I said.

Marisol looked at me, surprised. “Elena, you don’t need to do that.”

“I want her to see me,” I said. “I want her to know it was me who brought the papers.”

Vance hesitated, then nodded.

“We can put you in the observation room,” Vance said. “Behind the two-way glass.”

He stood up and gathered the documents, placing them back into my leather briefcase.

“Let’s go,” Vance said.

We walked out of his office and down another long corridor.

The air in the building felt colder now, smelling of old paper and rain.

We took an elevator up to the interrogation wing.

The walls here were painted a dull beige, and the light was harsh.