The funny thing was that the problems between Ericson and me came from the same source as the problems with Kim Delaney earlier tonight.
Ericson had needed to know something to pursue an investigation. I could have given her the information—but it would have put her in danger to do so. I'd refused to say anything, and when I'd pursued the trail by myself all the way to its end, there had been some burning buildings and a corpse or two.
There wasn't enough evidence to bring any charges against me, and the killer we'd been after had been dealt with. But Ericson hadn't ever really
forgiven me for cutting her out of the loop.
In the intervening months, she'd called me in for work several times, and I'd given the best service I could. But it had been cool between us. Professional. Maybe it was time to try to bridge that gap again.
"Look, Ericson," I said.
"We've never really talked about what happened, last spring."
