"You think he'd do that for me?" It's not a small pile, however quickly she bulldozes through some of them. But - lazily told jokes aside - they both know that's not what she means. So she says it for him, a litany of loss breathed into a quiet room. "Bancroft. Mary Lou Henchy. My arm. And - Elias."

The last one comes after a silent hitch, only long enough to be noticeable.

"If they're connected, there has to be a meth involved." It's too widespread. No one else could do it. "We could get to the bottom of it, but that doesn't mean we'll get justice. That's what the admiral's giving me: a meth's head on a plate."