The pounding was back. Only this time Colton couldn't figure out if it was the door or his brain. He had vague memories of a whiskey bottle, Spring Dixon, and then passing out. Now, however, everything seemed vague. Like it was happening to someone else. Like he was having an out-of-body experience.

Still, the pounding just wouldn't stop.

No, the pounding in his head was matching the pounding on his door.

"Colton Pritchard, open the door or I'll break it down."

Funny, that sounded like Chantale Baldwin. No, he remembered, Chantale Byrne. She'd gone and married the guy Colton had arrested. Erroneously, as it turned out, but she hadn't know that when she'd slept with Byrne.

"Colton, I'm going to start making phone calls if you don't open up. I'll start with Greg Wilder, then move on to Seth Jacobs, then I'm sure Dorrie Duhamel would want to-"

He cut her off by opening the door. "You wouldn't dare," he growled.

"Nice to see you too," she said, stepping under the arm which was supporting him against the door jam. He kept forgetting how short the woman was. He was almost a foot taller than her, but he had never intimidated her. No, the woman had a spine of steel.

She went right over to the windows and threw them open.

"Hey," he said. "It's November and it's cold outside."

"Well it stinks in here," she retorted. "Besides, the fresh air will do you good." She surveyed the condo. It wasn't too messy, but it wasn't the normal meticulous place he kept. Not that Chantale would know that. He'd entertained her here maybe once. No, he had always preferred to go to her place. In fact he always preferred to go to the woman's house. That way he could leave whenever he wanted.

Apparently Chantale wasn't finished. "Go and have a shower and shave," she said in that bossy tone he was well-familiar with.

"I don't have to do anything," he said.

For just an instant, her face softened. Then it went back to being hard. "They're going to be here in half-an-hour to arrest you, Colton. I would prefer that you be clean-shaven for your mugshot, if you don't mind. Now, hurry the hell up."

Arrest? They were going to arrest him?

Of course they were. He'd been accused of an unspeakable crime. Why he hadn't been arrested two days ago when he'd been put on suspension was beyond him. Probably they had thought they were giving him time to get his affairs in order. Because they had known he wasn't going to run. It had never even occurred to him to run. No, he was a cop to the marrow of his bones and that meant owning up to what he'd done.

"I'll be quick," he said. "But my head is hurting like a son of a bitch."

Chantale walked over to the bottle of whiskey and pretended to examine it. "Given that you never drink, I can only imagine. Less talk, more action."

Unsurprisingly, the two police officers who came to his door were two he didn't recognize. They introduced themselves as Officer Bonnie Noland and Officer Andrew Blaise of the Abbotsford Police Department. Abbotsford was the next town over from Mission City and they had their own police department whereas Mission City used RCMP officers.

Officer Noland read him his rights while Officer Blaise snapped on the handcuffs. In the front, Colton noticed, and it was appreciated. He wasn't known for making such gestures when he was arresting perps.

"I'll lock up," Chantale said, "and then I'll meet you over at the police station." She turned to the cops. "He's not to say a word, understand?"

Bonnie nodded. "It's going to take us time to process him anyway. You his lawyer?"

Chantale nodded and Colton, in a moment of true clarity, decided not to argue. He just wanted to get out of here before too many neighbours saw his humiliation.

Andrew led the way, holding Colton's arm at the elbow. Bonnie was following up at the rear. Chantale would lock up his apartment, Colton knew. She might even arrange for someone to water his plants. Of course what did it matter if the plants died? None of them were going to survive the twenty or so years he was going to serve.

"Is Harper going to be there," he heard Andrew ask Bonnie.

"Yes," Bonnie said. "She's been called in special for this." She angled her head to partly face Colton. "Our Captain is going to be there," she said.

"Lucky me," Colton said, looking out the window. He didn't care who was going to be there because it really didn't matter.

"We're also bringing in a special prosecutor," Bonnie said. "Because of you working so closely with the Mission City Crown Counsel."

Well, that wasn't a big surprise. It wasn't like Remy Stevens or Zach Brannigan were going to prosecute him. Or maybe they would. Maybe their loyalty wouldn't stretch this far. Would his? If Zach were being accused, would Colton stand by him?

Probably not. He knew Zach to be an upstanding guy with a great wife and an amazing conviction rate, but if the guy raped a woman, Colton would show no mercy.

"The Crown Prosecutor's name is Catriona Upland."

Colton couldn't help the groan which escaped unbidden.

"Yes," Bonnie said. "So you've heard to Cat the Rat."

She had earned her moniker because the defense attorneys felt she didn't fight fair. She also had a habit of using confidential informants with great frequency. Cops loved her because she sent so many perps to jail for nice long sentences and criminals hated her for the exact same reason.

Well, at least they were bringing in the best, he thought. Although Colton had helped execute a few search warrants which Catriona had obtained, he had never actually met or worked with the woman, so no hope of pleading a conflict of interest. Not that he planned to fight, Colton reminded himself. There was an inevitability to this. His world had now spun completely out of control and there was nothing he could do about it.

"So your lawyer is Chantale Byrne?" Andrew's contribution to the one-sided conversation.

Colton grunted.

"She's got quite a reputation," he said, taking the grunt as assent. "Can't really abide by defence attorneys, but at least she's easy on the eyes. Hey," he exclaimed when Bonnie punched him in the arm.

"You'll have to excuse my partner," she said. "He's stuck somewhere mid last-century when it was okay to objectify women."

"I said she was good-looking," Andrew argued. "I was paying her a compliment."

"And if she was a he?"

Andrew shrugged. "Then I would expect you to make a similar comment."

"We've been partners for two years. Have you ever heard me make any comment of the sort? No, because it's unacceptable."

Colton began to tune them out. He knew why they were doing this. It was awkward having a fellow peace officer in the car and they were bantering to try to lessen the tension. They needn't have bothered because Colton couldn't have cared less.

So how had Chantale known to come and how had she known about the imminent arrest? Had his boss called her? Not likely. Greg Wilder was a straight-shooter. How about Seth, his best friend? Again, not likely. Seth was a constable and probably not privileged to that kind of information. Which also meant that Colton's partner Dorrie hadn't been the person either.

So who did that leave?

In another moment of clarity, he remembered a blue-eyed witch showing up at his doorstep a few hours ago. Surely she hadn't actually contacted a lawyer for him, had she? Well, of course she had. The woman had a nasty habit of sticking her nose where it didn't belong. She and Colton had gone toe-to-toe on more than one occasion over the past few years.

In fact, only three months ago they'd been going at it. Colton was still sure he'd done the right thing in trying to get Spring's sister Kennedy's licence as a psychologist revoked, because he'd had cause. The woman had slept with a patient's husband and in a fit of jealous rage, the patient had slit her daughter's throat, put a bullet in her husband's head then taken an overdose of sleeping pills. No, he had been right. Kennedy's poor judgement had been at the root of that double murder-suicide.

And then Kennedy had gone on to get involved with another patient. She was married to him now, but that didn't make it okay in Colton's books. There were certain lines you just didn't cross.

Like raping a woman, he thought sarcastically. Yeah, that was a line never to be crossed.

His head hit the ceiling of the car when they went over a speed bump pulling into the detachment.

"Sorry about that," Bonnie said. "We've tried to get the city to make it smaller, but they never seem to get around to it. We'll be with you in a second."

Bonnie and Andrew alighted the car and went around to Colton's side, but they paused before opening the door. Colton looked out and saw the reason for their hesitation. There was a photographer, camera poised, ready to take Colton's picture.

A moment of panic shot through Colton as he thought about all the perp walks he'd seen over the years. If he ducked his head then he looked guilty. If he held his head up high, he could be perceived as arrogant. Was there any good way to be led into a police station while wearing handcuffs? If there was, Colton had yet to figure it out.

But when Andrew opened the door and Bonnie pulled on his elbow to help him out, Colton decided to hold his head up high. So what if people thought he was arrogant? It was all academic. He would be convicted in the court of public opinion long before he ever went to trial.

If he even went to trial.

What would he do if they offered him a deal? What if he had the chance at parole in ten years instead of twenty? Did it really matter what happened to him? No, it didn't. He was destroyed, had been the moment Belinda Oliphant had walked into the Mission City Detachment and accused him of raping her.

All he'd ever wanted to be was a cop and now that was taken away from him.

And there was Mallory.

God, he should have called Mallory. His sister was going to hear about his arrest from the press unless he could get Chantale to call her first.

The photographer got several shots but, mercifully, didn't shout out any questions. Colton had always found the whole idea farcical. Of course there were always really stupid perps who actually answered the questions. Some people just didn't understand the concept of the right to remain silent.

When he was led into the station, he was assailed by the scent of burnt coffee.

"Miles made the coffee again," Bonnie said. "Man, he needs to be restrained. He's a menace to connoisseurs of cop shop coffee everywhere."

Colton managed to dredge up a smile. He was partial to the stuff which was as thick as motor oil. He and Seth often competed to see who could make the thickest brew. At least they had until his best friend had married Chantale's sister. Then, quite suddenly, Seth had developed a taste for Earl Grey tea with lots of honey. Not as much as his wife Jocelyne put in, but still enough to make the stuff sickly sweet.

Seth and Jocelyne were the reason Chantale and Colton had met. Best friend and sister were miserable apart, so Colton and Chantale had schemed to get them back together. Their plan had succeeded and the two conspirators had begun a torrid affair. Colton hadn't thought it was serious, but Chantale had felt differently. As soon as he'd realized it, he'd extracted himself.

Okay, he had dumped her two days after Christmas last year. Not his smoothest move, but he'd been panicked. He'd thought they were just having fun, but she'd believed herself in love with him. It had all ended well, he thought, as she'd been married about a month later to Declan Byrne. Apparently she hadn't been in love with Colton after all. Either that, or she was a fickle woman who could fall in and out of love at the drop of a hat.

Except that wasn't fair, he thought, as Bonnie took his fingerprints. Chantale and Byrne were well-suited and made a good couple. His calm, somewhat implacable nature was a good foil for her enthusiasm and energy. Colton wondered what they were like in bed. Chantale had always been a very enthusiastic lover and Colton suspected she had loosened up the staid and boring professor.

As he stripped out of his clothes in Andrew's presence, he tried not to be humiliated. Then he was surprised when a photographer stepped into the room. A woman, no less.

"What the hell...?"

"Court order," Andrew said. "We have to take pictures of your entire body." He gave a careless shrug. "Anya's the best we have."

"A little warning might have been nice," Colton bit out, even as the woman began to shoot pictures. Of course he knew exactly why she was doing this. Why not just take a picture of the birth mark and get this whole farce over with? Still, he did as he was instructed, turning this way, then that way, having every inch of him photographed.

"That a bullet hole?"

Colton had forgotten about the scar in his right shoulder. It had happened his second year on the job – almost thirteen years ago. He'd been called for a domestic dispute but no one had known the husband had a gun. He'd gotten the drop on Colton and had taken the shot. Colton's partner had then shot the man to death. Not his fondest memory.

"Yeah, it's a bullet hole."

Andrew grunted.

"Okay," Anya said, "I think I've got everything I need." She gave a curt nod to both men and headed out.

Colton reached for the standard jail uniform in a very drab grey. As he put it on, he cursed his size. The damn thing was too small in all the wrong places and incredibly uncomfortable.

Andrew watched as Colton adjusted himself. The cop snickered.

Colton glared.

"We're going to Interrogation Two," Andrew said, leading Colton out.

"Thanks for trusting me," Colton said grudgingly.

"Oh, you might have tried to get the drop on me, but to what end? There are ten cops between you and the door. I don't get off on parading perps around without clothes." He actually smiled. "Of course Bonnie wanted in on it. She thinks you're hot."

Colton cringed, then realized his chain was being yanked. There was no way the prim, proper, and professional Bonnie was going to reveal to Andrew that she found a perp 'hot'. No, Andrew was just trying to get a rise out of him. Well, that wasn't going to work.

So he let himself be led into the interrogation room. Bonnie was there with a cup of wretched smelling coffee and two pills. "Aspirin," she said when he cocked his head. "Even the most green of rookies would be able to identify and hangover. You need to get your head in the game."

"Sure they aren't laced with cyanide?"

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Tempting. I'll tell you right now I have no sympathy for rapists. This is just covering all my bases. I want you cogent and coherent when we question you."

The door opened and two women stepped in. One was Chantale and the other held out her hand. "Captain Harper Turner."

Colton was a little surprised at the formality and respect he was being accorded, but he shook the woman's hand. "Colton Pritchard. Formerly a corporal. RCMP."

"I know," she said. She had black hair with liberal streaks of grey. She was of average height and must be in her late forties, but Colton had no doubt she would be a formidable sparring partner in the gym. The woman was in excellent shape. "I'm just giving you the head-up that I'll be watching the questioning." A nice touch, but unnecessary. The whole interview was being taped and anyone in the department could watch it if they really wanted to get their hands on it.

"Appreciate your honesty," Colton said. Then he watched as she left, shutting the door behind her. He sat in the seat Bonnie pointed to. Chantale sat next to him and Bonnie sat across the table. Andrew leaned against the wall, just below the camera. His stance was indolent, but Colton wasn't fooled for an instant. He would do well to watch Andrew, because the man was playing a role Colton had often played himself – the mere observer. It was possible the entire interview would take place without the man saying a word.

Everyone simply looked at each other, but it was Chantale who spoke. "I've advised my client to exercise his right to be silent."

"Then I guess the interview is over," Bonnie said, making to rise.

"I didn't say I was going to listen to her," Colton said.

Chantale glared at him, but he didn't give a damn.

"Ask your questions."

"Colton-" Chantale began.

"Don't bother, Byrne. I didn't ask you to come here." He rounded on her. "Which begs the question why the hell you're actually here? And how did you know I was about to be arrested?"

Chantale's aquiline nose stuck in the air. "This is neither the time nor the place for this, Corporal." She was using that haughty tone, but she was also subtly reminding everyone in the room he was a police officer. Had been a police officer, he corrected himself. She turned to Bonnie. "Cards on the table. What are the charges?"

"Sexual assault, unlawful confinement, and uttering verbal threats."

Well, wasn't this interesting, Colton thought?

"And the victim?"

Bonnie pulled a photograph from a folder. "Belinda Oliphant. A woman known to your client."

Colton was about to speak when Chantale placed a hand on his arm. "We have yet to establish that."

Andrew snickered.

Bonnie simply raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Because your client was the officer of record when the victim came to his detachment to report a date rape. It's all a matter of records, Counsellor. Heck, his partner Dorrie Duhamel was in the interview room with them."

All true, Colton acknowledged.

"Okay, I really need to confer with my client," Chantale said, shooting Colton a look which promised retribution.

"We can end this any time," Bonnie said amiably. "But we need him to say it, not you."

"I knew the victim," Colton said.

"The accuser," Chantale clarified.

"The victim," Colton reiterated. "When she came to me, she was a victim."

"And she saw you as a white knight, didn't she? Even now, she admits you handled her with care and consideration. Just grooming her for later, as it turns out, but you did an admirable job. I read the transcript and I have to say, I don't think I could have done better myself. Interesting, though, that you took the lead in the interview instead of your female partner," Bonnie observed.

Colton was about to speak when Chantale placed a hand on his arm.

"Anyone who works with Colton will tell you that he's amazing with victims. It's his job, officer."

"And Corporal Duhamel?"

Chantale's hand squeezed harder. "Dorrie is very good at getting perpetrators to confess," Chantale supplied. "Perhaps too good. I've had to plea bargain several cases because my clients confessed everything to her. They think she's a dumb blonde, but she's not. She's one of the smartest women I know. Just like I know Colton is one of the most honourable men I know. Look, whatever this woman is claiming, you have to look at the man you've arrested. He's simply not capable of violence."

Bonnie pulled out several photos from the folder. The first was of a pretty woman with sad eyes and a bruise on her face. The second and third were of thighs, obviously belonging to the woman. There were bruises on them as well. "I think he's more than capable of violence," Bonnie said.

Finally, Colton averted his gaze. He couldn't look, didn't want to look. It felt sacrilegious to parade these intimate photos around as props in some real sick theatre of the absurd.

"So she's claiming Colton did this to her?"

"Yes, Counsellor, that's exactly what she's alleging. I don't know whether or not you've heard, but we did a rape kit. We found semen and it matched your client's." To Colton's relief, Bonnie put the photos back in the manila folder. He didn't even want to imagine what else was hidden in the depths of that worn-looking cardboard. Everything was always recycled, reused in these places. There never seemed to be money to replace such mundane items.

"What does your client have to say for himself?"

"Nothing," Colton said quietly. "You seem to have all the evidence you need. But a confession would be nice, wouldn't it? You know, the cherry on the top of the sundae you're presenting to the Crown Prosecutor." He turned to Chantale. "Catriona Upland." He watched as Chantale's expression remained impassive. Her little finger wasn't still, though and that was Chantale's tell. Whenever she was emotional, that pinkie finger would start rhythmically tapping.

On pure instinct, Colton reached out to steady her.

"Hands off her, Pritchard," Andrew said, stepping towards the table. "You can look, but you can't touch." He paused. "But you have already, haven't you? Tasted that, I mean. Was she as good as she looks like she would be? Because I have to say, she looks like a nice piece of ass."

Colton and Bonnie shot out of their chairs at the same moment. Bonnie moved quickly to put herself between Colton and her partner. Andrew was pushing against her hand.

"Corporal, sit back down." She chanced a quick glance at her partner. "And that was out of line. I think you owe the Counsellor an apology. We're not supposed to objectify women."

"But he's got a temper, doesn't he?" Andrew was still pushing against Bonnie's hand.

Chantale reached out to tug on Colton's hand. Reluctantly, he sat. She leaned over. "You don't need to defend me. You never have to defend me."

"You're not some 'piece of ass'," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry you're being dragged into this. You need to go now before they besmirch your reputation even further."

She only smiled. "Colton, everyone in Mission City knows we had an affair. Is it any surprise that word spread over here? A cop and a defence attorney? It's bound to get tongues wagging. Especially given the high profile of Declan's case." Her smile slipped. "Andrew's a bully and you're playing right into his hands. You know better. Now, behave or this is over."

"Why is this farce continuing? The evidence speaks for itself."

Chantale cut him a glare. "I want to know what they have. I don't believe for a second that you raped that woman."

"Your faith in me is misplaced," he said. "You're wasting your time."

"Counsellor?"

Chantale held her hand up to Bonnie. "Just a moment, okay?" She didn't wait for a response. "Are you telling me that you raped that woman?"

"I'm telling you it doesn't matter. If the forensics say I raped her, then I guess I did."

Her eyes were blue as dark as a stormy summer sky. So different than Spring's, he thought, whose eyes were like a sunny summer sky.

"We'll talk about this later," she hissed. "Now, no more defending my honour."

Colton shrugged. Whatever, he thought. It didn't matter one way or the other. Yes, he'd lost his temper. He always did when it came to sexist men belittling women. Especially successful women like Chantale. Men just assumed she was either a ball-buster or a woman who had slept her way to the top and Chantale was neither. She worked hard and had earned the respect of her peers and the community alike. She'd only been in Mission City for a year, but she, like her sister the doctor, was part of the fabric of the town.

"Now that we've all calmed down," Bonnie said, "I just have a couple more questions. Is this the first victim you were responsible for who you then went on to rape?"

This time, Chantale shot out of her chair. "This interview is over." She turned to Colton. "Tell them it's over."

Since he'd had just about enough, Colton shrugged. "On the advice of my soon-to-be-fired lawyer, I choose not to answer any more questions."

"Interview terminated," Bonnie said and turned to the mirror, giving a slicing motion. The red light on the camera went off. She turned back to Colton and Chantale. "I can give you five minutes."

"Don't need it," Colton said as he stood. "Just show me where my bunk is. I have a hell of a hangover."

Chantale sighed while Bonnie and Andrew led Colton away. He snuck a glance back and saw a woman who was both dejected and determined. It was oddly incongruous, but that was Chantale.