Andy suited up in the locker room, dazed. She didn't know if keeping with Sam's wishes and not sharing the truth was best. She didn't know if telling him straight up, whatever the consequence, would be beneficial or the opposite. If it were her, she'd want all the information up front. Not knowing things drove her crazy.

If she had all the information, she had all the options. Sam's stubbornness, although completely justified, kept him from seeing the entire picture. If he knew about Anthony, she doubted it could change anything, and she personally didn't want it to. But she couldn't help but feel it's what should be done. That's when, after everything, we know we tried our best, knew the truth and made a decision from there.

Locking things out didn't seem the best avenue, but then again, she wasn't abused as a child. Sam was. This gave him an entirely different mindset from hers. It went far deeper than just cynicism and sarcasm. These wounds inflicted on him shaped Sam's entire perspective on life, the way he interacts, his relationships, his personality, his health, even his thought processes.

Despite wanting him to know, she had to remind herself that forcing anything on him could make it worse even with good intentions. That seemed to be something she did quite a lot.

She stepped out into the corridor, bustling with the changeover of shift. She felt herself moving sluggishly, thoughts a million miles away as she made her way to the equipment room.

She opened the small locker that housed her unloaded gun, not remembering even putting the combination in the lock.

A hand appeared before her eyes, snapping their fingers.

"Anybody home?"

Her eyes focussed on Nick. He gave a smirk at her spaced expression.

"Sorry, did you say something?" She shook her head, ponytail brushing the nape of her neck.

Nick chuckled then.

"I asked if you wanted to ride today. Gail's coming home tonight."

She didn't know if those two things were related, or Nick was terrible at segues.

Her face lit up, though. She noticed then, that he seemed more groomed than usual. Very clean shaven. No nicks or missed patches. He'd even had a haircut.

"Did you brush your hair?" She asked accusingly, reaching out to touch the finely coiffed strands.

He swatted her hands away with a roll of his eyes.

"Wow, you must be excited. That's great, then. I can't wait til she's back at work."

He snorted at that.

"Yeah, me too. It's weird right? She treats us mean, it keeps us keen."

"Guess so," Andy slipped her gun into its holster. "And I'll ride with you. I gotta get you desensitised for when Gail gets back. It'll be smartass remarks and acidic quips today, my friend."

"Ah," his hand to his heart.

"Treat 'em mean, right?" She punched him, a little harder than would be playful on his right upper arm.

"Ow?"

Andy shrugged.

"Hey, this ain't gonna be easy for me, either. I'm, in Gail's words, "a magical girl guide", so being mean to you is gonna be as much of a chore for me as it is for you taking it." She tapped her temple and brushed past him on the way out.

Nick's eyes sparked jovially at their role play, nudging her shoulder as he caught up with her strides.

"Yeah, I'll bet you hate every minute of today."

~0~

Sam tried to keep from cringing as Diaz stepped down hard on the accelerator. Instinctively, he reached for the siren. Sam nudged his outstretched hand away.

"No, we want a silent approach. We can't have him getting spooked and running."

It was twenty minutes since Sam got word some uniforms had spotted someone matching the description of Larry O'Reilly, brother and business partner of the late Danny O'Reilly.

They hadn't had any luck yesterday when Sam had gone to his last known residence.

"Fifteen-nineteen," Sam started into the car radio. "You still got a twenty on O'Reilly?"

"Copy that, detective." Dov returned.

"Alright, hang back so he doesn't make you, but if he does, do not let him get away." He ordered.

"Will do."

Minutes later, they pulled up behind Dov's squad. Sam scoped out the street, then spotted the bar Dov had described over the radio.

"Is that him?" Chris pointed towards a little alcove to the left of the bar where all the smokers milled around, half empty glasses of beer scattered across the tables.

Larry had his eyes glued to a flat screen mounted above the bar inside. Sam steeled himself, as he always did before a potential confrontation. He absently cracked his knuckles, looked over to meet Chris's gaze and nodded.

"Alright, you go round back with Dov and find the exits. I'll go through the front. If he runs, cut him off."

Chris nodded, and relayed that information to doc over his shoulder radio. Sam stepped out of the car, pushed his sunglasses up his nose and waited for Chris to disappear around the corner before moving.

He walked, attempting nonchalance. As much nonchalance as could be achieved in police uniform. Same side stepped a staggering patron as they exited the bar, making it three feet before bowing down on the pavement to vomit. Sam cringed, but kept his eyes ahead, unable to do anything about the drunk right now. He eyed Larry, now occupying a seat at the bar, a finger held up to signal for another drink.

Sam kept his arms at his sides, prepared. Unfortunately, as he made his way in, silence fell. The raucous cheering disappeared. Larry, with his back turned, finally noticed the shift in atmosphere. Sam pulled the stool next to him out of the way, leaning his forearm against the bar, his other resting carefully over his weapon.

"Hey, Larry, how's the game?" Sam nodded up towards the flat screen without moving his eyes from him.

Larry turned to the question, a wary look on his face already before he realised it was a cop. The wary look dissolved into fear, his eyes dropping to the bar in front of him with a muffled curse. The bar tender pushed another whisky in front of him, taking no moment to even assess the situation in front of him, instead carrying on with orders.

He cleared his throat, not eve glancing up at Sam.

"I ain't done nothin' wrong, man." He reached for his glass with a shaky hand, downing the liquid, strong enough that Sam could smell the pungent liquor from where he stood.

"Who said you did? I just wanna talk, Larry." Sam replied in an obviously calm voice.

Larry looked up at him sharply, his eyes flashing.

Sam didn't mean to sound condescending, which is how Larry must have took it. Sam was trying too hard to gain his trust and Larry, coming from the wrong neighbourhoods, being around the wrong people, was no stranger to cops or whatever tactics they employ to get information from people.

"I know my rights," he said with a little more volume. "I want a lawyer."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You're not under arrest, Larry. Look, we have some bad news about your brother."

Larry stiffened, but his expression didn't falter.

"Ah. The death notice." He chuckled humourlessly. "Ain't you supposed to have a flag or somethin'?"

"No."

Larry waved a hand and snorted.

"Like its some big loss to you guys, I guess." He put his finger up for another round, but Sam took his arm, grip firm above his elbow.

This close, he could smell the stench of consumed alcohol. He didn't seem too intoxicated. Eyes were moderately clear if a little glazed. His skin was a little sweaty under Sam's hand despite the coolness outside and in the bar.

"No, you've had enough-" he broke Sam's hold suddenly and tried to stumble his way through the bar to the back exit. Sam just waited patiently as he disappeared, then returned some two minutes later towed on either side by Epstein and Diaz. Both arms held in a wrist lock by each officer, the look of resignation showed clear on Larry's scowling face.

"We should have that talk." Sam clapped him on the shoulder not hiding any tone of condescension.

~0~

Sam walked into the interrogation room to find Andy staring through the glass at Larry. He glanced at her, then at Larry, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed their subject. Sam was more methodical than he realised. Perhaps more like a detective than he thought. He always seemed to have a process with his interrogations. Let them sit alone-a very common method-and wait for them to become uncomfortable with impatience, size them up without them knowing, watching for weak spots when they forgot they were even being watched.

He scratched at the stubble on his neck.

"I thought you were riding with Collins today." He observed.

He saw her shrug.

"Gail got discharged early so he went to pick her up."

"Thats great." He nodded, leaving space for silence between them.

~0~

Andy watched him from the corner of her eye, their bodies tense with the silence. She sighed. She was trying to let what happened with Anthony the night before fade into the back of her mind. Despite her promise to let it go, she couldn't help but feel it was her responsibility to make him understand. Although Anthony Swarek deserved nothing from his only son, impending mortality notwithstanding, she felt it was one thing Sam had to do, if not for his father then for himself. Acknowledge what was happening.

Chewing absently on her bottom lip, she was surprised to hear him speak first.

"Maybe you should have a crack at him." He suggested mildly.

"Really?" She was even more surprised at this offer, but didn't hesitate to take it.

She took the file off him and grinned as she went to join Larry under Sam's hidden gaze.

Larry looked up with interest at her appearance. Save for the fact that she was a woman, she supposed coming into the interrogation room grinning made her look like a rookie-either factor may have made Larry relax a little.

She sat down in the chair opposite him.

"Can I get you a drink?" She asked first.

Eyebrows went up and he slowly shook his head.

"I'd like a lawyer, though."

"For what?" Andy feigned nonchalance. "You're not in trouble." The calmer she was, the more likely he was to keep his walls down.

It was almost like talking to Sam.

Larry surveyed her, then. A cornered animal reacting to a potential threat. He moved very slowly, bringing his uncuffed hands up to rest on the table before him.

Andy smiled, taking it as a sign to continue.

"We don't have any interest in ruining your day."

Larry snorted.

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" His brows came together.

"Well it's not off to the best start, but you've got a chance to turn it around, get out of here with a few hours of daylight to spare. I'll even call a cab for you." Andy relaxed back into her chair, trying to ease him into co-operation.

He ran a hand through his dark unwashed hair. Blinking through blood shot eyes, he watched her, a silent urge to keep talking.

"I'm sorry about Danny."

"Yeah," he swallowed, glancing down at his hands quickly. "...well."

"Were you two close?" She prodded softly.

Larry lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

"Do you have a brother? A sibling?" He asked, a little abruptly.

Any shook her head no. A wall. One way she couldn't identify with him, or have him identify with avenue through which she couldn't get him to talk.

"Then you don't know how close we were. You don't know how I'm feeling. Like you pigs care anyway. You think I don't know what you're doing?"

Andy panicked. She was losing him.

"What do you think we're doing?" She asked slowly, openly, keeping Larry believing he had control of the conversation.

"I don't think. I know you're trying to lead me into confessing something I didn't do, or confessing something that Danny didn't do. That's what you're all like. I know you people. I know you."

"What, me personally?" Andy continued.

Even if he was fired up, he may continue spewing information. In fact, it was more likely he would slip up under the adrenaline.

"You're nice looking, I'll give you that, but I've heard the stories. You're all the same, you coppers. They probably gave me the pretty one so I'd feel comfortable."

Andy really hoped that wasn't the reason Sam let her lead on this one.

"So I'd talk. You've got a nice, trustworthy face. That's why I'm not gonna talk to you. You're a trap, sweetheart. Even if you don't know it, you're working for the Pilot." He looked up from their conversation and looked past her into the mirror.

"You heard me, you corrupt bastards! You're the reason Danny's dead. You won't get me, too, you fucking pigs!."

Andy leaned back in her chair, waiting for him to look her back in the eye.

"It's all a big scheme, you know that." He finally looked at her. "I've heard people being pulled for shit they didn't do, evidence that never existed before."

"Who is the 'pilot'?" Andy was dumbfounded at his tirade.

Something in him clicked back into place, as if a wire had been loose, a glitch in his system that corrected itself. He sat back in his chair, matching her gaze with his own. The heat in his eyes died down to an aloof coolness. The walls were up, he was stone. There was no use trying to get more out of him. As if to echo her thoughts, he folded his arms across his chest and said, "I want a lawyer."

Andy nodded once and stood to leave, taking one last backward glance at Danny's brother. She was new to this case, but it was quickly becoming far more complicated than it seemed.

She got out into the hall, then back into the room with Sam. It's like a switch had been flipped in this room too. Sam was gnawing on his bottom lip, something he never did, his fingers drumming against his jaw bone.

"A little less coherent than we thought?" She began, trying to gauge his perspective, her gaze locked on Larry.

His head hung over his hands, clasped together on the table. He was rather unkempt, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. Andy cocked her head as if that would help her decide whether Larry was for real, paranoid corruption talk aside.

"Sam?" She glanced at him.

His eyebrows raised, he turned to her, as if surprised by her presence. She waited for him to make a joke or something; some way of expressing his disinterest in Larry's story. He didn't speak.

"I didn't think he'd be too cooperative, but he's kind of dropping off the deep end with this whole Pilot thing. Sounds like he wants to distract us."

"I don't know." Sam replied doubtfully.

His tone implied something that startled her.

"You don't actually think what he's saying is true?" She laughed.

When he didn't respond again she stared accusingly back at Larry, then back at Sam, a mixture of incredulity and disbelief.

"What the hell is the Pilot?" Her hand extended out towards Larry, seeking explanation. "You believe this crap?"

Sam scratched the back of his head, looking distracted and reluctant. Andy squared her shoulders at him then, demanding his attention. He glanced at her, her posture, and knew she wasn't going to let it go.

He heaved a sigh. Andy watched him, he was all dark bottomless eyes and spiky black hair. Disarming.

"It's an urban legend." He waved his hand around dismissively, but she heard the seriousness in his voice, the slight tinge of doubt in his own words. "I heard about it in the academy...when I was a rookie..."

He changed his position, pulling out a chair that was leaning against the wall and sitting down.

"I don't know how a greenhorn like Larry O'Reilly would know anything about the Pilot." His hand extended towards the mirror and its occupant.

"I've only ever heard of it happening twice at fifteen." Sam added. "And nobody has ever brought it up again. It's like it doesn't exist." "Pilot?" Andy asks in confusion. "Sam, you're talking about this 'Pilot' thing as if it were more than just an urban legend." She watched him try to think of how to say his next words. "Are you saying it's real? This kind of thing exists? What the hell is it?"

"It's a short cut, a...a way of pinning someone when the legal way doesn't work."

Andy was shaking her head, "This still doesn't make any sense, what do you mean? Pinning someone?"

"Say you get a perp." He said, eyebrows raised. "Say...he gets off on a faulty search warrant, or you can't charge him with the crime because of a lack of evidence."

Realisation was dawning on her. The idea of a hidden vigilante, a ghost-it was definitely appealing. It was a cop's dream. You had your guy, but with no way of proving it. It gave a promise of justice. It was a way around the system that protected the innocent, but also paradoxically, protected the guilty.

"So, this Pilot. It's a resource. You never know when it'll happen. Or why. But you'll have a perp, ready to be released and somehow, you'll get an anonymous tip, or an envelope dropped on your desk. A plethora of evidence on your lap. Enough to not only nail your perp, but to put him away forever. It's just...there."

Andy looks back at Larry, and back at Sam. It's unbelievable. It can't be something that exists. Something so surreal, something out of a made for TV movie. Its not something that you would ever imagine in the real world.

"It's not real, though." Andy shakes her head.

Sam looks like he's hiding something.

"How have I not heard about this?" She complains, "That's crazy."

Andy took a deep breath, reeling. It wasn't as if she'd never heard about corruption. She'd known about dirty cops from Tommy's days on the force. Cops that were a little forceful, a little overzealous. Cops that cut corners around the truth, because they had a hunch-cops that planted evidence.

Bad cops, but not something like this.

This was unprecedented in her mind. She wondered how long it had gone on, if the Pilot, whoever he/she/they were-if the evidence they provided was authentic. If they were providing a secret public service, or putting innocent people away because it was easier to prove the already-suspicious as guilty, rather than putting in the extra work to find the real truth.

"Yeah we'll, you don't look for him, he finds you. He's untraceable. And I've never used him, before you ask."

"I wasn't going to ask that."

Sam gave her a small smile.

"I was going to ask if you knew anybody that had?"

She watches him take a big breath, watches him and realises slowly, through the weighted silence. It slides off her tongue.

"My dad." She nods.

"I've told you before how bad he got toward the end. Lots of holes in his cases. I only found out by accident, anyway."

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

Sam shrugged.

"Guy was guilty. We all knew it. Tommy just happened to have the guts to accept the help. He was a good cop, your dad. I'd do it again."

The whole thing was insane. Her dad. A whole career could be destroyed based on this evidence. Although, she supposed, he'd destroyed his own career without the help from the Pilot. His drinking ruined his reputation.

"So, what does Larry have to do with it?" Andy questioned, trying to put the Tommy thing to the back of her mind, her eyes back on their possible witness. "Is he trying to blackmail us? Scare us into letting him go?"

"It sounds like he's scared." Sam agreed. "But he's not smart or consistent enough to blackmail us. He doesn't have the balls."

Sam scratched his jaw, the stubble already apparent despite his shave this morning.

"I don't know if it's relevant, to be honest. He found out about it somehow. It'll continue to be a mystery, probably always will, but I doubt the Pilot has got anything to do with the overflow effect from The Rouge Brothers. Danny pissed somebody off."

"Pissed off The Morte, you mean." Andy provided. "So, the fact that he knows about the Pilot is a coincidence."

Sam nodded. "The Pilot is some kind of vigilante entity, only ever gets involved in the big cases, and only ever becomes involved during some miscarriage of justice. I doubt they'd be involved with the O'Reillys. There's no reason for it."

This was a lot of information to take on. Andy's stomach ached with hunger. She only now realised she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Putting a hand over her stomach when she felt it start to gurgle at the thought of food, she turned to Sam sheepishly.

"Go get something to eat, McNally." He smirked.

"Alright, I'll be right back. You want anything?" She offered, backing towards the door.

"Anything."

~0~

Andy, having poached some noodle cups from the break room, made her way back to the interrogation room to find Luke inside.

She wordlessly handed Sam the cup, watching Luke survey Larry. His eyes narrowed.

"You should cut him loose, he's not gonna talk." He said decidedly, glancing at Sam.

"I've got another lead, anyway. Someone who might have seen something."

"A witness?" Andy covered her mouth as she tried to chew and speak at the same time.

"Yeah, Martin Bray. Did some time in Kingston pen back in 2004. Same time as Danny. Word has it they stayed buddies on the outside. Maybe even acted as a partner in his little dime bag business."

"You got an address?"

"He's on the inside again. Kingston. Feel like going on an excursion, McNally?" Luke raised his eyebrows in question.

"Of course." Andy nodded, glancing at Sam. "You gonna come?"

"I gotta let Larry go. But maybe I'll lean on him a bit longer, convince him to keep a look out for any more Morte related activities." He got up from his chair, noodles in hand, the case file under his arm. "Call me when if you find something." He flicked his eyes between them, his eyes lingering on Andy before he left the room.

She wondered if staying behind was more about keeping his distance than getting anything else out of Larry. She gnawed her bottom lip as Luke gathered up his files.

"Everything okay?" Luke asked, his voice too even to come off as genuinely nonchalant.

"Fine," she cleared her throat, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Why do you ask?"

She watched his broad shoulders lift in a shrug, the sound of paper shuffling beneath his hands as he bent over the desk.

"It seemed tense when I walked in here. And Swarek looks like he's run over your dog. Trouble in paradise?" One eyebrow went up and she glared.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of an answer."

Luke shrugged again and laughed.

"Okay," he straightened up with a smile, arm extended toward the door, motioning for her to go first. "I'm just curious. No offence intended."

She turned her back to him, still unable to reconcile this current brand of Luke with the one she almost married all that time ago.

"You think he looked guilty?" She asked, having tried to ignore that tidbit but she couldn't help but wonder why Luke perceived his attitude as guilt.

"He looks a little more brooding than usual, I guess. He do something bad?"

She shook her head, "No, it's not like that." She sighed, figuring that's about all the insight and perspective she was going to get about Sam's feelings from a seemingly objective third party.

She supposed if anybody wanted to know how Sam felt (not like they'd ever try and find out), they'd ask Andy. That was the problem about being someone's significant, someone like Sam. How were you supposed to be their significant when you couldn't even figure them out. Sometimes it was unclear whether Sam understood himself; how was she supposed to?

She pushed the thoughts, and Luke's conjecture, aside.

~o~

It was close to the end of shift, and Andy wasn't back at the station yet.

Anything yet? He texted her.

He unbuttoned his shirt with a sigh, staring blankly into his locker.

He'd let Larry go earlier without making any further headway, so that lead was a bust. He only hoped McNally had gotten something out of her trip to Kingston Penitentiary with Callaghan. At least they had her help now, being that her case got handed off

His phone vibrated.

I'm outside, can you talk?

He almost put the phone back down, assuming the message was from McNally. He did a double take, only just realising the message was from Sarah, his sister. His stomach plummeted. Turning the phone over in his hand, he tried to think of a way to ignore what he just read. But with a wry chuckle, he knew that was pointless, Sarah being as stubborn as he is. So, he prepared himself.

Give me a minute. He replied, changing into his clothes quickly.

He pulled his jacket on as he left the locker room, a bag containing some uniforms he had to take to the cleaners slung over his shoulder. He passed a rather pregnant Traci by the front desk and threw her a sympathetic smile on his way out. The air outside hit him like a wall, stinging his cheeks. He hadn't realised how hot he felt inside, probably because his blood pressure shot up the moment he realised his sister was there. He saw Sarah sitting on the concrete sign outside the front of the division. She'd never been here to visit him before. In fact, the thought struck him, he hadn't really seen her in about three years.

She looked different...but the same.

"Ray." He called softly, using the nickname he used to have for her. Actually, it used to be 'Rah-Rah' when they were kids, before he could pronounce 'Sarah', before slowly morphing into 'Ray' when they got older. He now usually refers to her by her real name, it wasn't as personal, almost detached, it was perfect for them.

She turned, her fingers held in a 'v' before her face, a cigarette between her lips. Her cheeks sucked in as she inhaled, the tip of the cigarette glowing orange. He remembered trying to steal one of her cigarettes once when he was about 10. She started smoking after Anthony went to prison, after she was attacked. Sarah always seemed to be this enigma to Sam. A dark mysterious shadow of equal parts innocence and ferocity.

She gave a lopsided smile. "Hey, kid." She replied with the nickname she used for him in childhood.

She exhaled, tendrils of smoke rising around her head. They shared certain physical traits. Same skin tone, same raven black hair, even their eyes were both dark and bottomless: unnerving at times.

She dropped the cigarette, stamping it out with her booted foot, and came toward him. Arms spread, she hugged him and he returned it awkwardly.

"What's up, Sarah?" He tried to get the conversation moving.

She took a deep breath, rubbed her forehead and said, "Its about Dad."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something harsh. He waited for her to say something but she was waiting for him first.

He digressed.

"Look, I don't know what's going on so if you want to find out, you should ask him yourself." He provided, not entirely liking his own advice, but wanting nothing more to do with the subject of their father.

She sighed, flicking her hair out of her eyes.

"Sam, I didn't come here to ask. I already know. But it turns out you don't."

Sam watched her, waiting to see where she was going with this.

"Listen, you need to talk to Dad." She folded her arms across her chest.

Sam was shaking his head, looking around to make sure nobody was around to overhear. He took a step closer and lowered his voice.

"I don't need to talk to him. I'm not going near him," memories from the night before came flooding back.

He saw his father's hands on Andy, the same hands that had once been used against him. He felt sick.

"Grow up, Sam. He's changed. When are you going to give up this attitude toward Dad?"

"You seem to have a very selective memory when it comes to him." Sam shot back, his anger rising.

He backed up a little, unable to stand still with his frustration.

"He's our father! When are you gonna accept-"

"He's not my father, Sarah!" Sam cut in. "He stopped being my father probably around the second time he broke my arm." He licked his lips, looking away.

"Oh my god, get over it, Sam! Get over-"

"He locked me in a tool shed for four days!" He bellowed, dropping his bag on the ground.

Sarah stood there looking incredulous but didn't say anything.

The rage that he hated in himself had poured over the edges. It was the rage he saw in Anthony. The rage he hoped would never surface, let alone surface around Sarah. He loathed the way he felt in this moment but he couldn't ignore the injustice.

"I stayed as long as I could at that place for you and mom. The only reason I didn't run was to make sure it was my arm he broke; not yours and not mom's!"

He was done. He turned away, storming back into the station, not waiting to hear what response she had after that. The warmth of the station enveloped him as the doors closed behind him. It was smothering after the briskness outside.

Sarah appeared at his side. He should have kept walking.

"He's dying. Cancer. We're having lunch tomorrow, I hope you can come."

He didn't look at her, but he knew she'd turned to leave. Her jacket brushed his arm and she was gone. His little big sister who had once hated the injustice of the world, still a cynical old soul, but more than ready to forgive an unforgivable past.

Sam, jarred, made his way through the station blindly. He didn't realise he was in the parking lot until he felt the cool air touch his face again. His stupor freshly broken, he realised Andy was waiting at his truck for him already.

He couldn't help but smile a little. Andy noticed his approach then, and returned his smile, tucking her phone into her hoodie pocket. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, her skin bright. He wanted to touch it, skim his fingers over it, hold her and breathe her in, forgetting about everything else in the world.

"How'd you go with Danny's old cell mate?" He asked when he got to her side.

"Good." She grinned. "I'll catch you up on the way home."

He touched her face, ran his hand down her cheek and gently tugged a lock of her hair. Her smile dropped a little.

"What's wrong?" Her voice soft, it was enough to bring out the truth from him.

He rubbed the back of his head, feeling a migraine coming on.

"I'll catch you up on the way home."