“You want to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“Feels weird.”

“That’s not a reason.”

The officer considered.

“I keep thinking about that day.”

“The raid?”

“The lobby.”

Kendrick waited.

“If Rourke hadn’t hit you, I don’t know if I would’ve ever said anything.”

Kendrick did not answer immediately.

The officer continued.

“That bothers me.”

“It should.”

The man looked almost surprised by the bluntness.

Kendrick leaned back.

“But being bothered isn’t useful unless it changes what you do next.”

The officer looked toward the glass wall.

“So you think I should apply?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You’re good at not answering questions.”

“I’m excellent at it.”

The officer smiled faintly.

Kendrick’s expression softened.

“If you want the job because you want authority, don’t.”

The smile disappeared.

“If you want it because you remember what it felt like to be afraid of the person who had authority, maybe that’s worth thinking about.”

The officer absorbed that.

Kendrick stood.

“I have another meeting.”

“With who?”

“People who enjoy spreadsheets.”

“Federal government?”

“Obviously.”

They walked back toward the lobby.

At the front desk, Kendrick stopped.

Through the glass entrance, afternoon sunlight crossed the pavement.

Three months earlier, he had seen federal vehicles arriving through that same glass while Rourke’s confidence drained away.

Now there were no agents outside.

No tactical team.

No evidence van.

Just ordinary traffic.

A woman walked past carrying a folder.

A patrol car pulled out.

Somewhere deeper in the building, a phone rang.

The officer beside Kendrick said, “You ever think about what would’ve happened if Rourke had waited one second?”

Kendrick looked at the front doors.

“Yes.”

O’Malley would have had fourteen more minutes.

The shredder would have kept running.

Maybe the basement cage would have been emptied.

Maybe evidence would have disappeared forever.

Maybe not.

There was no honest way to know.

The officer asked, “You think the punch saved the case?”

Kendrick considered the question.

“No.”

The officer waited.

Kendrick looked back at the bullpen.

“The people who kept records saved it. The witnesses who finally talked saved it. The technician who found the old video partition saved part of it. The judge who signed the warrants. The business owners who were scared and talked anyway.”

He touched the place beneath his left eye where the bruise had once been.

“The punch just stopped everybody from pretending there was more time.”

The officer nodded slowly.

Kendrick started toward the door.

The officer called after him.

“Agent Hayes.”

Kendrick turned.

“Yeah?”

The officer hesitated.

Then said, “I’m going to apply.”

Kendrick looked at him for a moment.

“Then remember the lobby.”

He left.

The doors opened normally.

No locks slammed.

No alarms sounded.

Outside, the afternoon was bright and ordinary.

Kendrick stepped into it carrying the same leather briefcase he had brought three months earlier.

Behind him, Oak Haven Police Headquarters continued operating.

Not healed.

Not absolved.

But exposed.

And sometimes exposure was the first honest thing a building had done in years.