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was innocent, and Gellica had her share of questionable acts. But she worked for Paulus out of a mixture of fear and aspiration: fear of what Paulus could do to her, and aspiration that their work might actually make the city a safer, better place. She was almost as delusional as those of us who wore badges.

From painful experience, I knew that the problem with investigating Paulus was that she had almost as much pull as the entire police force. I’d have been glad to share that insight with Captain Auberjois, but he was still convinced I was in the ambassador’s pocket, and had no interest in anything I might have to say. It took an intervention from Captain Bryyh to arrange a sit-down between the DO captain and me and Jax. Bryyh was along to play referee. There was also a surprise guest: Assistant City Attorney Flifex, a narrow-faced man willing to dirty his hands so that his boss would have some distance in case things went wrong. The prosecutor showed little interest in the meeting, perched on the arm of an office chair, absently cleaning his fingernails with a business card plucked from Auberjois’s desk.

The newly minted captain stood in front of a murder board, a smaller-scale version of the one we had in the Bullpen. He stood with his feet wide, hands clasped behind his back, and his mandibles at rest. It looked like he had a speech prepared, and when he spoke, it sounded like, it, too.

“We are still at the early stages of this investigation,” he said. “But we have found evidence of tampering with the geo-vents, and we believe that the sinkhole event is tied to the mind-altering buzz being reported. If Paulus continues to have freedom of movement, and potential access to the sinkhole, there’s no telling what kind of evidence she could destroy.”

“Skip the prepared notes,” Bryyh said.

“We have a strong indication that Paulus was behind the opening of the sinkhole. It’s time to place her under arrest, even if it’s on a lesser charge.”

“Why?” I said.

Auberjois looked annoyed. “So that she doesn’t have the opportunity—”

“No. I mean, why open the sinkhole? It’s not like she’d gain anything from it. She already has money, she already has power. How would a sinkhole on the edge of the city help her? And if she is behind it, why would she send a child down there?” On the wall, the girl who looked so much like Gellica stared down from her photo. I wondered if Gellica had lied to me about having no siblings, or if she’d simply repeated lies that Paulus had told to her. I cleared my throat and asked, “Any luck on an ID?”

“Not yet,” said Auberjois. “No match for her prints in the system.”

That surprised me, though it shouldn’t have. Identical twins don’t have matching fingerprints. I suppose a clone wouldn’t, either.

“How is that possible? She’s got to have a record,” Jax said. “Look at that jumpsuit. It certainly looks like a government-issued prison uniform.”

“Juvenile detention,” Flifex chimed in. “It’s different now, but thirty years ago . . .” He punctuated the sentence with a shrug. “It’s possible they kept poor records. Or someone arranged for them to be permanently misfiled.”

“Here’s the thing.” Auberjois leaned forward, hands intertwined, trying his best to convey the image of the thoughtful detective. “Who has the juice to make detention center records disappear?”

Flifex nodded once. Slowly, thoughtfully. But I knew it was a false path. There weren’t any fingerprints on file because the mummified girl almost certainly didn’t have a birth certificate, or legal residence. Paulus hadn’t made her disappear, she’d made her, full stop. And I couldn’t tell anyone that particular secret without endangering Gellica and myself. I pinched the waddle of flesh beneath my jaw. It really is so much easier when people dislike you for simple, honest reasons, I thought.

“We need to use the low-hanging fruit to bring her in now,” Auberjois was saying, “before she gets wind of what we’re up to. It’s no secret that she’s got ears in the Bunker.”

He didn’t need to look at me when he said it. We all knew he thought I was on Paulus’s payroll. Of course, I was withholding information. But I was doing so only to protect Gellica, not to help Paulus, or even myself. I kept telling myself that made a difference.

“We heard you the first time, Captain.” Flifex barely looked up from his nails. “Bring her in on what evidence?”

“There is evidence she had an employee in the vents,” Auberjois said.

Jax spoke up. “When we were at the sinkhole site we were told there was no evidence of sabotage, or even that the cavern or sinkhole is anything but a natural phenomenon. Is that accurate?”

“Yes.” Bryyh spoke before Auberjois could answer. “There’s still debris to remove, but no signs of intentional destruction or that the cavern was made by any of the eight Families.”

Jax stepped away from the wall. “So whoever was in the cavern wasn’t mining, or intending to create a structural weakness a few decades down the line.”

“The problem is that they were there at all,” said Auberjois. “Someone breaks into your home, it’s illegal. Doesn’t matter if they steal anything or not.”

“It matters what we charge them with,” said Flifex. “And it can matter quite a bit when it comes time for sentencing. If you want to put Paulus in prison, I suggest we make sure that she stays there for a very, very long time.” He smiled faintly, the expression of someone who understood the risks we were dealing with.

“The press is running with the mummy story,” said Auberjois. “The public’s in an uproar, because the mummies mean someone is tampering with the one thing that keeps us all warm and toasty at night. People are cold and scared, and if the sentiment has ever turned against Paulus enough that we can get a fair shake in a trial, this is the moment.”

Flifex made a noise that could

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