Alice Winter had been going through different stages of emotion from the time she had learned that Sara was dead. There had been a lot of sadness, hopelessness, but under that, bubbling up and taking over everything, there had also been the last one: rage.

Rage was what she barely held in check as she walked to the police station. She was an hour early for her appointment with the detective, but she hadn't wanted to sit around in the apartment any longer. She was too full of restless energy that wanted to burst out of her. As it was, being jostled and bumped by random strangers on the bus, then on the train, hadn't done much to help her mood. She had almost yelled at some little old lady who had almost scraped her hand with that stupid little cart on wheels that all little old ladies seemed to have these days, but she had held it in. If she had yelled, she would have just ended up crying, a sobbing helpless mess on the subway that nobody wanted to deal with. They would have just assumed she was some strung-out junkie, another black girl who wanted to rage at the system. They wouldn't have seen her grief or understood her pain, so she had to hold it in, and keep that ball of pain and rage inside her.

Alice was almost relieved when she was finally in sight of the police station, where she could talk to someone who understood what she was going through. Someplace where she could make sure that Chris paid for what he had done to Sara. For what he had done to her.

BEEEEEEEEP!

The blaring car horn knocked her out of her thoughts, and she turned, scared out of her mind. The stupid little Ford Focus had stopped only inches away from hitting her, the slim model-looking Chinese woman at the wheel looking almost as startled as Alice felt, she with pounding heart and adrenaline heating her face.

"FUCK OFF!' Alice screamed. That surprised both her and the driver, but goddamn, it felt so good to let it out. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!" Alice continued and slammed her hands down on the hood of the car, earning her a look of barely contained irritation from the driver. It was just a flicker, barely there at all, as if the driver was considering getting out and kicking Alice's ass, but she saw it.

The driver held up her hands in surrender instead and mouthed the words, "I'm so sorry."

"Well you should be!" Alice yelled, feeling that rage wanting to take over, but she somehow forced it down. The last thing she wanted was to get arrested for beating up a pretty Chinese girl in the parking lot of a police station; it didn't matter that the girl had almost run her over.

Alice held eye contact as she stepped out of the crosswalk and onto the sidewalk. The woman shook her head and drove her Ford Focus away into the parking lot; Alice watched her all the way, glaring daggers.

If Alice had known she would be seeing the woman later that day, she might have expressed her rage a little more directly. Instead, she forced herself to shake off the experience and carried her rage up the stairs and inside the station with no knowledge of the future.

***

Angie watched the angry black woman walk inside the police station. She parked the Ford Focus behind an oversized Dodge Ram truck and then purposely stayed inside to let the woman get ahead. Her heart still pounded in her heart from the close encounter. For a second, she had thought the woman had recognized her somehow, and she had actually considered gunning the engine and just running her down before making a break for it. It took just a second for her to realize that the woman was just pissed off at almost being run over.

The facial recognition software in her V.I.S.O.R. finally kicked in, displaying information about the woman: Alice Winter, 5'2", Jamaican-Canadian, Assistant Manager at the PetShop416. Known associates, Sara Park, Chris Allman--

Her phone rang a second later. Carmen.

"What just happened?"

"Complete coincidence, no big deal."

"The system doesn't think so. I've got a complete history on Alice Winter coming up on my screens right now. She could be trouble."

"Only if she sees me." Again, Angie amended in her mind. "She's just the roommate," she insisted. "Unless of course, you want me to kill her--"

"Just get Allman out of there and let's get this over with. The faster the better."

"You got it boss."

***

"Did he confess yet?" Alice asked detective Morrow as soon as he came out to greet her in the lobby. To his credit, the detective seemed to take it in stride, only pausing for a brief second at Alice's intensity. The desk sergeant glanced at her, quickly assessing if there was going to be any trouble. Detective Morrow promptly shook his head and raised his hand to the sergeant; Alice felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment but held on to her anger and her righteous agenda. She had no reason to be embarrassed about causing a scene: her friend was dead goddammit.

"You want to come on inside Miss Winter?" Morrow asked. "We have a lot to talk about."

Alice glared at the detective, knowing that he was only trying to calm her down, but she didn't want to be calm. His very presence was infuriatingly calming, but that was just the kind of man he was, even if he was a cop. She hoped he was a good cop, but it was so hard to tell these days with so many officers hiding trigger-happy bullies in their ranks.

Alice allowed herself to be ushered out of the lobby and into the maze of low-wise cubicles that hid beyond the walls of the perfectly ordinary-looking reception area. It was a hive of low-activity, not quite like what she had seen in the movies, only a few uniformed officers typing away at computers, a few of them on landline telephones. An older Filipino woman was speaking intently and quietly to what she assumed was a detective, but apart from that, Alice seemed to be the only other civilian in the office.

It looked just like any other office she had ever seen. Sure there was the Toronto Police Logo and shield on a back wall, but it was just an office. She didn't quite know how to feel about that; it just felt like business as usual. Crimes were happening and being reported and it was just another day in the office for these people.

Detective Morrow nodded reassuringly at her, seeming to sense something wrong. He was obviously a very observant man, not something she would have suspected by looking at him with his beer belly and white hair. It was the piercing blue eyes that gave it away; they had a tendency to twinkle as if he was laughing at a joke only he knew, but they were always watching — watching and assessing.

"We were about to interrogate Mister Allman, but we would like to interview you about his relationship with Sara if that's okay with you."

"Of course," Alice agreed. "Anything I can do to help put that bastard behind bars."

Morrow held a door open for Alice and grimaced as she entered. Was it something she had said?

"We usually don't like to assume guilt," said the tall black detective who was waiting in the room. He stood up as Alice entered, and she blinked a couple of times, trying not to react at how good-looking he was. That kind of reaction wasn't appropriate right now. And no, it didn't matter that she was wearing. The detective continued: "We try to let the evidence and the witnesses like yourself lead us to the answers."

"This is my partner Andre Duvel," Morrow said dryly. "He's got a damn fine head on his shoulders, but it keeps me honest."

Alice glanced sharply at Morrow, wondering exactly what that meant. She tried not to be rattled and focused all of her attention on Duvel instead.

"He killed her," she said sharply and stubbornly, "I don't know what else needs to be said."

Duvel glanced at Morrow for a moment and then smiled warmly at Alice. He extended an arm, indicating a comfortable chair in the corner in which she could be seated. Alice sat after a moment, making sure that her hesitation and attitude communicated that she was only sitting because she wanted to sit and for no other reason. Morrow sat next to her and Duvel sat on the edge of the desk, facing her. With his height, he should have been the one sitting instead since he still towered over her.

"Forensics came back, and they show that Chris couldn't have possibly killed Sara," he finally said.

"NO! He killed her! He did it."

"There was a third person on the scene. Whoever it was, fired the shot that killed Sara."

Alice shook her head no, unable to believe what the detectives were telling her. She knew that Chris had killed Sara, so why couldn't they see it?

"The shot came from a balcony about fifty metres away," Duvel said, "Security cameras and physical evidence place Chris in the same location as Sara, so there's no way he could have done it."

"Unless he had an accomplice..." Morrow said, earning a look of annoyance from Duvel. "Is there anyone Allman trusts?"

All at once, Alice knew who could have done it. The realization made her lightheaded, even more than when she had found out that Sara had been killed. That had been unreal, and there had been grief for her friend and for herself, but this was different. This was foul and evil. This was betrayal.

Alice looked look at Duvel, her mouth uncomfortably dry as she formed the words.

"It was Phil. His best friend Phil."