Bunker was panting, running trembling hands through his hair. His face was ghost white. ‘I’m sorry. I just came to say I was sorry.’
Erin handed Rafe an envelope. ‘It’s for Mercy.’
‘I expected better from you of all people, Erin,’ he spat. ‘You saw what this did to her. I don’t want to hear his sorries and I don’t want Mercy to have to see his fucking face.’ Rafe snatched the envelope and tossed it back at Bunker. ‘Get out or I’ll tell her brother that you’re here. He might not be as controlled as I am.’
‘He didn’t do it!’ the older woman shouted. ‘Dammit, could you just listen for a minute?’
‘Didn’t do what? Didn’t interview a sex offender and publish his video? Didn’t violate Mercy again? Next he’ll be claiming he didn’t kill Quill Romero.’ Rafe took a step back, ready to slam the door in all their faces until he realized that this guy would be wanted by NOPD as well. ‘André! You need to see this.’ He was furious at Bunker, but Erin . . . My God. She’d betrayed him.
And then he met his partner’s dark eyes. And her mostly patient expression. Which morphed to sympathetic as they stared each other down.
‘He’s just come from Molina’s office,’ Erin said quietly. ‘He came clean and his story matches up. The Feds are piecing the rest of it together as we speak.’
Rafe’s gaze flicked to the red-faced, angry woman standing behind Bunker, hands protectively clutching his shoulders. Then he looked – really looked – at Bunker, who was crying, his body a trembling, shaking mess.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Bunker whispered. ‘I didn’t do this. Not the video part anyway. The rest of it . . . I did the article. Most of it. But I didn’t kill Miss Romero!’
‘You just made the anonymous call to NOPD,’ Rafe said flatly. ‘From Sacramento.’
Heavy footsteps fell behind him, and then André Holmes was shoving past him, going for Bunker, just as Rafe had. But Erin stepped in front of him, staring up defiantly.
‘Hold on there,’ she said, her voice still calm. It was the same voice she used to defuse hostile situations. The same voice she’d used to talk a jumper from the Foresthill Bridge. The same voice she’d used to calm Rafe whenever he’d lost his temper over the past year.
André’s chest was pumping, his rage palpable. ‘What the fuck is this, Sokolov?’
Rafe glanced behind Erin at the Bunker kid, who was cowering in fear. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, feeling some of his reason return. ‘It seems we have a new complication.’
André stepped closer to Erin, glaring down at Bunker. ‘Start talking, asswipe.’
Erin placed a palm on André’s chest. ‘Back off, sir.’
André started to snarl at Erin, but she whipped out her badge at the same time Rafe said, ‘She’s my partner. Detective Erin Rhee, SacPD Homicide.’ He frowned at Erin. ‘You should have called first. Given us a heads-up.’
‘I can see that now,’ Erin said wryly. She looked over her shoulder. ‘You okay, kid?’
‘No, he is not okay!’ the older woman shouted.
‘Mom, chill,’ Bunker said stiffly. ‘I’m not hurt.’
‘He would have killed you,’ the woman said hoarsely. Now that the situation was cycling down, tears gathered in the woman’s eyes.
‘No, I wouldn’t have,’ Rafe said, still angry, but no longer out of his head with it. ‘What the hell were you thinking, coming up to knock on my door? And what were you thinking, Erin, escorting them?’
Erin lifted a brow, her whole demeanor going frosty. ‘I was thinking that my smart, rational partner might like to hear the truth.’
‘What’s going on here?’ Gideon said, joining the welcoming committee. He didn’t shout, though, so maybe he’d heard what Erin had been saying.
Erin exhaled again. ‘Okay, let’s start over again. I should have called first. I didn’t know you’d figured out that Mr Bunker here had made the anonymous call to NOPD, or I would have handled this differently. Mr Bunker, Mrs Bunker, you have my sincere apologies.’
‘It’s okay,’ Bunker said, his voice like gravel. High-pitched, squeaky gravel. Rafe wasn’t sure how the guy managed it. ‘If I was in their place, I would have done the same thing. Well, maybe not the same thing, because I’m not a million feet tall and can’t bench-press a draft horse.’
‘Yep,’ Gideon said dryly. ‘This is the anonymous caller, all right.’
Twin flags of color stained Bunker’s pale cheeks. ‘I told Special Agent Molina what happened. She didn’t arrest me.’
‘Congratulations,’ Rafe drawled. ‘Now tell the rest of us what the fuck is going on here.’
‘Language, Raphael,’ Irina tutted. She pushed them out of the doorway and onto the front porch, pulling the door closed behind her. It opened right back up, Sasha and Daisy following her. Daisy grabbed Gideon’s arm and hugged him to her side. Sasha stood next to Rafe, arms crossed over her chest, glaring daggers, first at Bunker, then at Erin.
Irina sighed loudly. ‘First of all, my seventeen-year-old daughter is upstairs studying. I know she hears the F-bomb at school, but I’d prefer she not hear it at home.’
Rafe almost rolled his eyes, but caught himself in time. ‘Yes, Mom.’
Irina shot him a glare that said he’d be in deep shit later. ‘Second, we have two grieving women here who have had enough stress in the past day to last the rest of their – hopefully – very long lives.’ She turned her gaze on Erin. ‘You really should have given Raphael fair warning.’
Erin dropped her eyes. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Irina.’
‘I hope so.’ Irina extended her hand to Bunker’s mother. ‘I am Irina Sokolov. You are Jeff’s mother?’
The woman shook Irina’s hand warily. ‘Geri Bunker. We didn’t know that any of Miss Romero’s family would be here. We are very sorry to disturb them in their grief. But my son wanted to make things right with Miss Callahan.’
Irina tilted her head toward Bunker. ‘You are all right, yes?’
Bunker nodded shakily. ‘Yes. Ma’am,’ he added when his mother nudged him.
‘Good. I would like to invite you in for tea, but I think we should hear what Mr Bunker has to say first. Quickly, young man. This détente is fragile.’
Bunker shot her a grateful look. ‘Okay. I started this article, then found out that Miss Callahan lived in New Orleans. I went there – on my own. My mother had nothing to do with it. I kind of lied about where I’d gone.’