Wolfe felt a degree of déjà vu as he stared around the Joliet Police Department for the second time this week.

He still hated police stations.

This time, however, Shel sat on the hard, plastic bench next to him. Shannon and Lucy sat next to Ms. Timo on another bench, both dressed normally and leaning on each other, snoring. Ms. Timo was asleep as well. Having everyone around put him a tiny bit at ease.

But only a tiny bit. Everything else reminded him that he had never yet had a positive experience in a police station, and he was pretty sure after four a.m. when it was still dark outside, being suspected in multiple killings wouldn’t be the first time he enjoyed this place.

At least he didn’t hurt anymore—or not much. He still had an injury debuff, but his active wounds had been healed by the cops. The good cops, he supposed.

“So what do you think Rhett is doing?” Wolfe asked for the tenth time.

“I don’t know. He took you in and booked you, right?” Shel whispered, with a nod at her sleeping sister.

Wolfe lowered his voice. “Yeah, and he got a cheek swab and fingerprints, too—something I’ve avoided since I was a kid. And that file was sealed a long time ago.”

“They cheek swabbed you when you were a juvenile?”

“Just the fingerprints, actually.”

Shel was quiet for a moment before softly asking, “But he just let you come out here, obviously… Did he handcuff you?”

Wolfe shook his head.

A man came in, screaming and struggling. He had clear Taser marks on his neck, and his eyes were wild, his pupils dilated.

Shannon and Lucy jerked awake, staring around with wide eyes. Wolfe wished the two could go home, but their statements were needed—and since they were the primary reason he might not go to jail, he had resisted asking the police to take them back home.

“When it rains it pours,” Wolfe said, looking at the man. “With eighty percent of their force dealing with the Noimoire stuff, they’ve got this guy going crazy.”

“Yeah,” Shel said, but she twirled her finger in her red hair and bit her lip. She didn’t respond past that.

So much for making some light conversation.

Wolfe took Shel’s hand and sat quietly, and the two girls fell back asleep. For his own part, Wolfe tried to pass the time watching the Joliet office around him. Despite the crazy guy with the eyes, nothing else happened, however. It gave Wolfe time to dwell on things that he didn’t want to think about.

He was elated, of course, that he had killed Damian, and glad that his minions were all dead as well—not to mention a whole slew of dark deckbearers—assassins, enforcers, and thugs involved in human trafficking. Even a corrupt member of Noimoire’s elite Card Police. Over the last three days, Wolfe had bagged ten deckbearers—he was fairly sure that his patron, Cerberus, would be quite excited.

Plus, Wolfe had most of the cards from the dead. Including a ridiculous amount of cards he hadn’t looked at yet.

Not to mention half the cards for the ‘Gate to Hell’ set now.

Shel rested her head on his shoulder and let out a huge yawn.

Wolfe couldn’t stop thinking—not normally a problem he had. But everything could go away in the next few minutes, depending on what Rhett did. He had saved Wolfe’s life now, even if Wolfe had previously saved Rhett’s. Maybe he’d lost his sense of gratitude and would arrest Wolfe.

Wolfe just wished he knew. He let go of Shel’s hand and stood, his face darkening.

Shel startled from her half-dozing state and rubbed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna go see Rhett and figure this out. Whatever he’s doing, he can do quickly so I can get on with my life.”

“Maybe we should—” Shel began.

But for once, Wolfe didn’t listen to her, regretting it slightly but still determined. He strode toward the door in the wall. I’m not really a wait-and-see kinda guy, anyway.

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Just as he reached the door, it opened, admitting Cara, who looked harassed and tired. She was still quite pretty without her makeup, but the difference was noticeable.

Or maybe it was the lack of sleep everyone was suffering from.

She was glancing down at her clipboard and actually walked into Wolfe, bouncing off him and staring up with startled eyes. But when she saw him, her expression softened.

“Uh… I’m sorry, William,” she muttered as Shel came up beside Wolfe. “You are William, right?”

Wolfe nodded.

“Okay, well, I was supposed to come get you for the detective. Please come this way.”

Wolfe followed her into the back. Most of the desks were empty of police officers, but the ones that had them had multiple calls going at once, and every occupant looked harassed.

“I never thanked you, by the way,” Cara said.

“Thanked me?” Wolfe asked.

“For saving Rhetty-poo’s life. I don’t know what I—we—I mean, the department, would have done if he’d died. It would have been a tragedy.”

Shel strangled a laugh, turning it into a weird cough-snort. Wolfe was too surprised to do anything about it, just blinking at her. Rhetty-poo?

Cara brought them to Rhett’s office and knocked. This time, Wolfe waited for Rhett to call out, “Come in!”

Cara opened the door and motioned Wolfe and Shel inside, and they went. Rhett had two cheap, metal chairs in front of his medium-quality desk, and the poster of Deputy Chief Charleston was missing, but nearly everything else was the same as Wolfe remembered.

Including the picture of the dead officer whom Wolfe knew had had a connection to the card sellers from the Rat Arena, however tenuous.

Shel sat in one metal chair, and Wolfe took the other and spun it around. Before he could sit, Rhett stared up at him, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Please?”

Wolfe sighed, completed the chair’s rotation, and sat in it normally.

He glanced at Rhett’s desk. There were files for both William and Shel on the table—but none for Wolfe. None for any of the Grimm family, in fact.

“So, have you decided if you’re gonna be arresting me?” Wolfe asked.

Rhett didn’t respond, instead looking up at Cara. “Cara, hon, would you mind bringing us some coffee, please?”

“Black?”

“Yes,” Wolfe and Rhett said at the same time, and, “Sugar and cream,” Shel said.

Cara left, shutting the door behind her.

Rhett looked up at Wolfe. He looked as tired as Wolfe felt, with bags under his eyes, but he was smiling slightly.

Wolfe knew he was playing into Rhett’s odd game, but he was growing tired of waiting. “So, are you arresting me?”

Rhett turned two files around and pushed them in front of Wolfe and Shel. On each one was a ‘promise to appear in court’ form, a pen, and a marked place to sign.

“Yes, I am arresting you—” Rhett began.

“You son of a—” Wolfe interrupted, violently grabbing the pen.

“For trespassing,” Rhett finished.

Wolfe stopped, holding the pen above the X for signing. “What?”

Rhett smiled sardonically. “I’m arresting you, William Madison, for trespassing, a misdemeanor. The same crime I booked you for—and the same one I got DNA evidence and fingerprints for. With a very complete file on William Madison that I will send to every major police station in Illinois, as well as a federal database. I am also releasing you, with a promise to appear in court when summoned by said court, assuming, of course, that our local district attorney decides to prosecute. I think it’s more likely that I get a call from said district attorney telling me not to be an ass and to stop harassing heroes who saved lives and put a stop to a trafficking ring, but that’s for her to decide.”

Wolfe was at a loss for words. “Why?”

Shel silently clapped her hands beside him.

“Funny thing about the arrest packet. It requires a court order to seal and is never really gone. So, anytime anyone ever looks for a certain DNA pattern, or fingerprints, or anything else, really, they’ll find William Madison, and no one else—nor an emptiness that might be suspicious. Prints matching the ones you’ll need to provide in your private investigator work.”

Wolfe got it—it was an extra layer of protection, making sure that he would always officially be William Madison, no matter what stories any remaining Grimm boys—like Piper—tried to spin.

“What about Shel?” Wolfe asked. “Her career, I mean?”

Shel nodded to his words.

“Well, technically—very technically—it might cause trouble. But I’d bet money I get another call about how much of a, shall we say, ‘self-righteous prick’ I am,” Rhett said.

Wolfe chuckled. “Never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope. But, the point is, I suspect that case gets dismissed too. No one questions why I only charged you. Regardless, trespass really isn’t likely to be a problem for becoming a police officer, absent some really bizarre moral turpitude or associated crimes like stalking.

“Now, hurry up and sign that paperwork. We both have about twenty hours of sleep to catch up on, and I’m sure you have family to take care of. I’ve gotten enough from everyone to let it go for the evening—we’ll take more formal statements in a day or two.”

Wolfe nodded and stood, holding his hand out. “Thank you. For the extra safe fresh start.”

Shel stood as well. “Yes, thank you. Truly.”

Rhett nodded to Shel, then stood and shook Wolfe’s hand. “It’s a double-edged sword, William. You’ve a fresh life, but you are in the system now. Just sayin’.”

Wolfe rolled his eyes. “Right, right. I’ll be good.”

“In your case only, I think I’m more worried about ‘Law-abiding’ than good, per se, but I’ll take what I can get,” Rhett said.

Then his eyes widened. “Oh, before I forget. We were going through Emmett’s stuff, looking for evidence, and my boys came upon something.”

He held a giant pack of paper slips to Wolfe.

Wolfe took them, rifling through them. They were all dates, times, and case names. “What are these?”

“Three years of time cards from Emmett, showing in meticulous detail all the times, places, and cases you worked for him over the last three years. It’s good to see that you didn’t spend all seven years since the last lumber mill closed unemployed.”

Wolfe looked up to see Rhett grinning at him with a sardonic half-smile. “And welcome, however tangentially, to the side of the cops, since you’re a full private investigator now—and I know I can trust you with a ton of jobs for our office and the D.A. both.”

“Oof. That made me barf a little in my mouth.”