Nikki and Mike sat across from Upton in the interrogation room almost two hours later. On Saturday night, just before midnight, the BPD wasn't very busy, and several detectives were still manning only the task force's operations center.

They first gave the journalist strong coffee and then allowed him to let cold water flow over his head in the bathroom.

Now, he had a bottle of water and a plastic cup from which he kept drinking. All of this had an effect. He was more clearly understood and also behaved more or less normally again.

When Mike asked him if he wanted to call Ashlyn now, he shook his head without saying a word.

After watching him drink the next bottle of water, sip by sip, for a while, Mike opened the folder in front of him, pulled out several pictures, and slammed them down on the table in front of Upton. "This is what Miriam Labo looked like when we found her."

Upton leaned forward, took a look at the pictures showing the woman's dismembered and reassembled body on the forest floor, and jumped up.

With a few quick steps, he reached a corner of the room and vomited loudly, choking, leaning on the wall with both hands.

Nikki looked at her husband reproachfully. That was to be expected, given Upton's condition. However, she also knew what her husband had hoped to achieve with this action. He wanted to see Harry Upton's reaction. If he had really killed the woman, he would probably have reacted differently. Throwing up on command was an acting skill that Upton was unlikely to have mastered.

They waited patiently for the journalist to return to the table. He pressed a hand over his stomach and looked genuinely miserable.

"I'm sorry." His voice sounded hoarse. "But when you show me something like this..."

Mike took a deep breath, put the picture back in the file, then looked up at the one-way mirror and shouted, "Can someone please come in and clean up here? It smells a little strong." Then he crossed his arms over his chest and looked intently at Upton. "And? What can you tell us about this?"

Upton's gaze dropped. "Nothing. I don't know what happened to Miriam since she disappeared, but --"

Nikki waited patiently, frowning a little. "But what?"

"This may sound crazy, but... I'm glad."

Mike blinked a few times and leaned forward a little. "What a fucking reason could there be to be glad? I'm showing you a picture of your ex-girlfriend's dismembered body, and you're glad? Have you lost your mind?"

"No," Upton replied, shaking his head and speaking quietly. "I'm only glad because now I know for sure that I didn't kill Miriam."

Mike looked at his wife with his mouth open. "He's lost his mind. Probably drank it all away. We should call an ambulance."

"Can you explain exactly what you mean by that?" she asked, to which Upton nodded. He seemed done and, in a way that was difficult to describe, actually relieved.

"For a long time, I thought I'd killed Miriam." He took another sip and breathed deeply. "It became too much for me at some point. Too cramped. Miriam had started to cling to me and talked more and more about me leaving my wife so that we would finally no longer have to hide." The journalist reached for the water bottle again. He drank it empty, whereupon Nikki pushed her unopened bottle over to him.

"But you didn't want that," she stated.

Upton looked at her openly. "No. But not because I love my wife so much. She drove that out of me right at the beginning of our marriage. We've been married for almost fourteen years now. Christine last slept with me thirteen years and ten months ago. She has no interest in sex. Not from the beginning. At least not with me. I think either her father or she just wanted her to be married. Maybe to give the impression to the outside world that she... oh, it doesn't matter. Anyway, I was only concerned about my future, which my father-in-law would have destroyed without hesitation if I had left his daughter for another woman."

The door opened, and a young man in gray overalls came in, holding a bucket and a mop. He nodded to them in greeting and then, with a look of disgust, devoted himself to Upton's legacy in the corner of the room. They remained silent until the man had roughly cleaned the area and left the room.

Upton's gaze wandered from Mike to Nikki and back again. "Where was I... oh yes, so I decided to end the relationship with Miriam. I wrote her a text saying that we had to meet. In a small wooded area where we were unobserved. We had met there often when we were in the car..." He closed his eyes for a moment.

Nikki understood and nodded, leaning back in her chair. "Where was that?"

"Always near the state line with New York."

Mike and Nikki looked at each other. 'That's where she was found today.'

Upton's eyes filled with tears. 'I don't understand any of this.'

"Guess what, neither do we," Mike replied coldly. "Go on."

The journalist sniffed and licked his lips. "She came there that evening. As always, we had parked the cars, one behind the other, on a small, overgrown forest road where rarely anyone passed. I tried to explain to Miriam that I couldn't leave my wife because my existence would be at stake. Carducci is a good friend of my father-in-law. I knew that old Boutroux would put so much pressure on him that he would fire me. But she didn't accept that. She said I could find a job anywhere, and besides, she would earn enough for both of us. When I wouldn't be dissuaded, she called me a coward and started swearing at me." He reached for the water bottle again and took a sip. "Miriam became completely hysterical and even slapped me in the face. That's when I had enough. I got into my car, which was parked behind hers, and then I drove off at full speed. I was furious." Upton paused to look at his hands. "Suddenly, she appeared in front of my car. She just jumped in my way. It happened so fast... There was a terrible noise, then she was gone. I braked and looked in the rearview mirror. Miriam was lying next to the road. She wasn't moving. I... thought she was dead."

"And then you just drove off," Mike snarled. "You left her there and ran away, didn't you?"

"Yes," Upton spoke so softly that it was almost impossible to understand, then he looked up and continued talking loudly and quickly. "But... you don't understand. I was panicking. A thousand things were going through my mind. Everything would come out. My wife, her father... I thought I might even have to go to prison; my whole life would be in ruins. And it really wasn't my fault."

"I'm about to burst into tears," Mike snorted, leaning back in his chair. 'Go on, keep talking.'

"I went home. The next day, I checked the latest press releases and police reports every ten minutes. But there was nothing. And nothing the following day, either. I didn't understand it and went back to the scene. I had to know what had happened to Miriam." Upton stared at the bottle he was turning between his hands. "She wasn't there anymore. A few yards further on, there's a fairly steep embankment. It drops several feet and is entirely overgrown with shrubs and bushes. I thought maybe Miriam was severely injured and..."

"You thought she'd pulled herself up and plunged down the embankment," Nikki finished the sentence when the journalist made no move to continue. He nodded.

"And you didn't give a damn that your ex-lover might have been seriously injured down there, dying a miserable death," Mike added with a gloomy expression. "I could puke."

Silence spread throughout the interrogation room for a while, interrupted only by a scratching sound Mike made when he brushed his hand over his beard in his typical gesture.

"It wasn't until a few days later that the first reports emerged that Miriam was missing. She was never found, as you know. Until today. Do you understand now why I'm glad?" Upton asked tentatively.

"No," Mike replied without hesitation. "I now understand that you're a cowardly asshole."

"I advise you to call Ashlyn O'Laighin, Mr. Upton." Nikki felt no pity for the journalist. Even though she was sure Upton had nothing to do with the murders, what he had done two and a half years earlier was inexcusable. He would at least have to answer for hit and run and failure to render assistance. Nikki, however, wanted to avoid at all costs her sister finding anything she could charge them with. The conversation with Harry Upton was recorded to prove, if necessary, that both Mike and she had allowed Upton to contact his lawyer.

"Why? I'm relieved that I was finally able to tell everything. Now I have nothing more to hide." And quietly, Upton added, 'And probably nothing more to lose either. The way it looks, I've lost everything in the last few days anyway.'

Mike decided that Harry Upton could go home. By now, he no longer believed that the journalist had anything to do with the murders.

xxx

"I wish I had been at that fundraiser and seen it with my own eyes," Ashlyn said with a broad grin.

Nikki, who was loading her parents' dishwasher, stopped abruptly, blinked a few times, and looked at her sister slowly. "Why? So you could have jumped right to your client's side?"

Ashlyn looked at the detective intently, pulled down the corners of her mouth, and nodded. "Well... yes. But mostly, I would have enjoyed it."

Nikki smiled a little and shook her head.

Sitting at the dining table with Maura, Jane, and Maggie, Elizabeth watched the scene, rubbed her forehead, and shook her head amusedly.

"I didn't find the whole thing very amusing," Maura murmured into her teacup and paused as she caught disbelieving looks. "Well, maybe a little."

Elizabeth grinned broadly and nodded slowly. She knew her mother well enough to keep her composure on the outside in a delicate and amusing situation, but inside, she was laughing her head off. Jane had to grin broadly, too.

Maura got up from her chair and went to the kitchen island to refill her cup with hot water. "I have to admit," she said suddenly, looking at her wife, her daughter, and Nikki. Last night at the Museum of Art, Nikki reminded me a lot of the two of you."

The former chief and the former captain looked at each other and then at Maura questioningly. "Why?" they asked at the same time.

"Well," Mike answered the question as he walked over to his wife, Maura grinned broadly, and Nikki rolled her eyes, " Probably because I was afraid that Detective Veronica O'Laighin would get at the throat of our former main suspect."

"Oh," Nick said, taking a long drink from his coffee cup, 'I had that fear more than once when Liz was still my partner and captain.'

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows and looked at him intently while Maura laughed amusedly.

Jane nodded in agreement; she couldn't deny that she was known for her hot-tempered nature.

Nikki put her hand on her hip. "Harry Upton laid a hand on a woman. Should I have stood by and done nothing?"

Mike put his mug down on the kitchen island and pulled the corners of his mouth down. "If you'd slapped him, it wouldn't have been in my report." He looked at Nick as he cleared his throat loudly. "I mean, I would have noted that it was appropriate."

Ashlyn grunted amusedly into her water bottle. Even though Harry Upton was her client, it didn't mean she automatically liked him, which was definitely not the case here.

Katherine came out of the guest bathroom and paused for a moment. "Nikki, didn't you say that your new best friend wanted to join us to immerse herself even more in her role as a cop?"

Mike grinned broadly, and Ashlyn pressed her lips together in amusement.

Nikki let her shoulders drop and looked at her aunt intently. This was not how she had imagined breakfast with her family at all. "I never said she was my new best --" She snorted when she saw the amused look on her family's faces. "I'll call Jennifer in a minute, okay?"

Katherine grinned broadly and shrugged as she sat down next to Nick. "Okay."

Nikki nodded and sighed, picking up her cell phone. The mailbox turned on immediately after the first ring. She raised her eyebrows and took a few steps toward the patio door. "It's me, Nikki," she reported in puzzlement. "I'm with my family at my parents' house. Don't you want to hear a few war stories from veteran cops and lawyers? Just check in with me." She ended the call and rejoined her family, but a disturbing thought grew.

xxx

At noon, Nikki had set out to run a few errands; after all, the fridge wouldn't fill itself, and today, unlike her husband, she was only on call.

That strange feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn't go away, so the detective decided to drive to Jennifer McMillan's apartment to see if the actress was okay.

When she rang the doorbell for the first time, nothing happened, and a second attempt was also in vain. Nikki was about to turn away in resignation when the door to the apartment complex opened, and a young man stepped out onto the street. She greeted him warmly and slipped into the building before the front door could close again. Taking two steps at a time, she sprinted up the stairs and, a little later, stood panting in front of Jennifer McMillan's apartment door.

Nothing happened when she knocked the first time, and she began to worry seriously. The current case came to mind; the images of the dead women appeared before her mind's eye. She knocked on the door again. First gently, then more and more forcefully. But to no avail.

Nikki paused. The actress couldn't be sleeping so soundly that the rumbling wouldn't have woken her. Without hesitation, she turned around, went to the next apartment door, and knocked. A woman in her forties opened a crack and looked at the detective skeptically. "Yes?"

"Excuse me, my name is Veronica O'Laighin. Can you tell me if anyone here has a key to Jennifer McMillan's apartment? Or do you perhaps even have one?"

"Why?"

Nikki sensed she wouldn't get anywhere like this and took her badge off her belt. "Boston Police. I urgently need to speak to Ms. Mcmillan."

The woman studied the badge carefully before finally nodding. "On the first floor, the first apartment on the right. Mr. Richter. He's something like the caretaker here."

"Thank you." Nikki turned away and made her way downstairs. Sam Richter was in his late sixties or early seventies. When he saw the badge, his eyes widened in awe. "Is Jenny in trouble?"

"No, everything's fine. I want to make sure that nothing has happened to her."

Jennifer Mcmillan was not at home, her bed untouched. It looked like she hadn't been in her apartment last night. The uneasy feeling she had had all day was growing.

She frantically pulled her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and dialed Mike's number. While waiting for her husband to pick up, she nodded at Sam Richter, who was standing in the hallway watching her. "Thanks; you can go back downstairs."

"But I can't just leave you here like this --"

"Yes, you can. You've seen my badge." She pointed to the door and nodded at the man again. Mike finally answered. "Mike, I'm at Jennifer's apartment. She hasn't responded to my messages all day, which is unlike her. The super opened the door for me because she didn't respond to my knocking either. It seems like she didn't even come home. I'm really worried. I don't know, but I feel something might have happened to Jennifer. After all, there's that maniac out there..."

"Slow down, Nikki," her husband interrupted and took a deep breath. "She probably just had one too many drinks and stayed with another friend."

"No, she hardly drinks alcohol."

"Precisely, if she hardly drinks alcohol, she'll be drunk after three glasses. And besides... you saw how many handsome guys were around last night. Most of them are filthy rich or famous. Or both. Maybe she hooked up with one of them..."

"She would have contacted me in any case because she wanted to meet all of you. I'm really afraid something has happened to her. Maybe an accident."

"Okay, Nikki. I suggest we meet at the BPD right away, and then we'll see together where we can find Jennifer Mcmillan. Okay?"

"Okay."