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the homicide desk. Ross claimed to have information on the Novak case, but insisted that he would talk only to Detective Harriman. He was asked if Detective Harriman should be paged, and said no. He refused to talk to Detective Matsuda.”
    “Novak is one of Pete and Frank’s cases,” Rachel said. “A junkie in Riverside mentions a case Frank is working on?”
    “Yes,” Cassidy replied. “But Ross used to live here, so perhaps it’s not so strange.”
    “Did Ross specify a time?” Rachel asked.
    “No,” Freeman said. “Ross’s message was that he would be home between 0900 and” — he caught Cassidy’s frown — “I mean, nine in the morning and one in the afternoon.”
    “Didn’t Jake think it was strange that Ross wouldn’t talk to anyone but Frank?” I asked.
    “It isn’t unusual for an informant to have one or two connections to the department and to refuse contact with any other officer. No one questioned Ross’s request,” Freeman said, “because Detective Harriman was his contact on each of the two previous occasions.”
    “Frank is the only one who has talked to this guy?”
    “Affirmative,” Freeman said. I heard Cassidy sigh.
    “Pete knows him,” Rachel said. “He never told me the guy’s name, but he said he knew the junkie that Frank drove out there to see.”
    “Pete has met him,” Cassidy agreed. “And Frank filled him in on anything Ross said. But I noticed that any report on a conversation with this informant had Frank’s signature. I talked to Pete just before he left to go out to the scene, and he said Ross would only open up for Frank. Wouldn’t give information to anyone else.”
    “Any reason why?” I asked.
    Cassidy hesitated, then said, “He trusted Frank.”
    “He had every reason to,” I said angrily.
    “Pardon?” he said, clearly surprised at my reaction.
    “Frank would not murder an informant, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    “No one here believes that he would do any such thing,” Bredloe said firmly. “I have complete faith in Frank. If he did use his gun, it was with good reason. If he shot that man, it was in self-defense, or to protect another person’s life.”
    I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear someone from the department say they had faith in Frank. I found myself on the verge of tears again.
    Jack must have realized I was too choked up to talk. “Of course, anyone who knows Frank knows that,” he pitched in, and tried to ask more questions about what was going on in Riverside.
    He was politely stonewalled. I listened to the others converse while I tried to calm down. I knew I’d never get the full story from the police about what had transpired at the junkie’s house, what they had found there. Pete might tell me eventually, if Rachel and I leaned on him hard enough. Frank was in danger — I couldn’t wait for “eventually.”
    I grew antsy. I needed to act, to do something. The house started to feel too small, too crowded. If I sat around, I’d go crazy.
    “Well, I need to get going,” Bredloe was saying.
    “It was very kind of the three of you to come by,” I said.
    “Oh, I’m the only one who’s going. I’d like to leave Cassidy and Freeman here. Detective Cassidy has a few other things to talk to you about.”
    I felt a growing sense of panic but didn’t say anything. When Bredloe stood I grabbed my jacket and said, “I’ll walk you out to your car.”
    “I’ll walk out with you, too,” Jack said, making me want to kick him. “I need to get something from my house.”
    Outside, Jack said a quick good-bye to Bredloe and went next door. I reached in my jacket pocket and felt the comforting weight of my car keys.
    “I want to thank you,” I said to the captain. “Your faith in Frank means a lot to me.”
    “Frank earned that faith,” he said. “I came out here tonight to reassure you that I’ll stay personally involved in seeing that he comes home to you safe and sound.”
    “Thank