When it's time to make the arrest, I watch both of them walk ahead of me down to the garage, wondering if Stan gets the life he deserves and if I can give Joel the same.

Life is unfair, so I doubt it. I don't want to, but I do.

"Have you done many arrests before, kid?" Stan questions, pressing down on the elevator button.

"My fair share," Joel says. "Not as many as I would like. More arrests can correlate to more cases solved. The way I figure it, we get more of the bad ones of the streets and maybe one day we won't have to do a job like this anymore. Call me an idiot, but I'd like to think that people can change and learn to be better."

He's not an idiot, but I've seen firsthand what evil people are capable of committing, and the idealistic attitude he's swearing by doesn't fit what I've known in my lifetime. Then again, I could stand to be less cynical.

"I was like you once upon a time," Stan tells him. "From what I've learned in the time that I've done this, there's never going to be a world without violent crime. We've just got to try to make the best with what we've got."

"That's why we're at this job," Joel replies.

It's why I share my visions with the chief, I might add if I could.

I wipe my shaking hands on my jeans and try to breathe. The closer we get to the parking garage, the more anticipation starts to choke me.

It's for Valerie. We're gonna lock him up so that he can't hurt anyone else again.

It's off-putting, to think that he's just gotten off work like a normal guy. He's going to eat dinner with the wife he will eventually murder without hesitation. She has no idea what he's done.

I know that there's no definitive proof yet, but my vision gives me a pretty good judgment of his character.

I won't trust him because in my mind he's already at the guillotine.

Guilty. Even the word feels like a finality. A brand.

I wonder if the reason that this murder disturbs me more than any of the cases I've seen before it is because it comes at a time when I'm starting to realize that there might be a fine line between myself and the people I've helped put behind bars.

We ride in a van. I sit in the backseat, behind the cage dividing the front and back of the vehicle. I'll move between Stan and Joel on the way back when we've got him in cuffs. But for now, I keep my distance. I need space to think, and this gives me that chance.

The city's gone dark and the sun has set behind the tops of the buildings. There are no stars in a place like this; the bright skyline makes it impossible to see them.

The drive to the house feels shorter than it did the first time. Part of it stems from the station being closer to the Grant house than my apartment, but part of it is the change in my feelings. Instead of wondering what's going to be there and anticipating it so much that time seems to slow down, I'm sitting with my legs trembling, thinking that it's coming too fast for me.

"You okay, Vi?" Joel asks, peeking at me in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," I answer. "I'm fine."

"Don't worry too much, kiddo," Stan says softly. "We can handle this."

"I don't doubt you guys," I say. "I just wonder why someone would do something like this. Doesn't make sense to me."

"It doesn't make sense to any of us," Stan assures me. "But that's because we're in our right state of mind."

I'd like to think that applies to me, but at this point, I really can't be sure anymore.

By this point, we're turning on their street. My pulse picks up speed, thumping harder and faster, and my whole body is seizing up with a sudden burst of adrenaline.

I hang back by the driveway as Joel and Stan head up to the front door. My throat feels clogged with every word I want to say to Karen, the explanation as to why we have to take her husband away in metal cuffs.

Stan knocks, and it kicks everything off.

Kevin answers, a smile still on his face as though Karen had said something funny before he opened the door.

Joel flashes his badge, opening his mouth to speak.

"Something wrong, officers?" he says calmly, leaning against the frame with ease.

Behind him, I watch as Karen steps out of the kitchen, raising her hands to her mouth with tears flooding in her eyes as Stan says the dreaded words.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Valerie Grant. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

He hesitantly raises his hands as though this is shocking to him. The act could fool me if I didn't know better. He lets Joel pin his arms behind his back and cuff him without a fight.

"I'll call you, honey," he tells Karen as Joel yanks him forward and begins to push him toward the van.

"They won't keep you in there for long!" Karen calls after him, her voice breaking. "They'll see that you didn't do anything wrong!"

She watches me, trying to catch my gaze as we start to make our way back to the street. I turn my back, swallowing the guilt that chews at me. We're taking away the only other person she has left. Even if he is a murderer, even if he's destined to take her life, it still hurts me because she's lost enough as it is.

Kevin hasn't said a word. He stays quiet in the back of the car with ease. He doesn't complain about the cuffs biting into his hands, and he doesn't try to tell us that we have the wrong man. He's calm, collected. He knows he doesn't look guilty right now, and he knows he'll be free if he keeps his cool and plays his cards just right.

He's the worst kind of murderer. There's no soul in his eyes. He bears no sign of humanity.

Joel reaches down and rests his hand on top of mine, the other locked firmly on the wheel as he drives.

We've got him, his touch says. Don't worry.

Instead of going to H2, we head down to the part of the station with holding rooms for questioning. I've never been back here before. This part of the NYPD building is one I've never seen. There are so many new faces, so many people to worry about making contact with as new officers put Kevin away.

I avoid touching anything, anyone, hoping no new visions will come tonight. It's the last thing I need.

Joel and I are standing on the other side of the one-way glass. I'm just watching Kevin. He sits, tapping his fingers against the table like he's waiting to be let out. The arrogance in him is palpable.

He can't go free. If there's any justice, he won't go free.

"I'll handle this," Stan says. "Reed, work on getting him in the system. Take notes from the other side of the glass for me?"

"Will do," Joel responds. "Let me know if you need anything."

Throughout the questioning, Stan is direct and collected. He asks about the alibi, points out the flaws clearly, and makes sure he establishes that we know Grant's flight was delayed. Kevin relays the same story anyway, knowing that if he backtracks, he'll look more suspicious.

"I'm gonna make one thing clear, sir," Kevin says, the cuffs rattling as he shifts. "I loved Valerie like I would my biological child. I want to put this sick person responsible away just as much as you do, but I assure you, I am not your guy."

He almost has me convinced. I know that I would believe every word he's saying had I not seen him murder Karen without any hesitation in my vision.

He's not giving in.

At worst, we'll be here all night. I can't imagine what an ideal day would look like at this point.

Eventually, Stan leaves, ordering a few officers to put him in a cell for the time being.

"He's pretty good," Joel grumbles. "What are we going to do with a guy like that who has almost no dirt on him? What did he say again? That excuse of his, what was it?"

"His flight was delayed and he didn't realize his flight time had changed," I supplied sourly.

"It's a reasonable story," Stan concedes. "It could happen to anyone. Maybe we were too quick to rush to this. Say there was a kid in school with Valerie who didn't like her much—"

"You're not seriously looking for other suspects, are you?" I ask, genuinely surprised.

"We've got nothing on him," Stan observes. "I don't like it as much as either of you, but he doesn't seem guilty. There's nothing that really puts him at the scene during the murder. There were probably plenty of smart kids who could've done exactly what he did, and who might have had beef with Valerie because of her career prospects. We need to check out all possible sides of the story."

"And what do you propose we do when we let him out and he runs away and kills someone else?" I demand. "What then?"

"We don't have enough to convict him," Joel says. "Vi—"

"You guys have to see how crazy this is! He murdered Valerie!"

"He's innocent until proven guilty," Stan reminds me. "We just have to keep trying. Maybe we missed some security footage or something. We're not giving up."

"It feels like you are." I huff. "He'll be out in twenty-four hours unless we get something on him to keep him from being released."

"I know that," Stan says. "It's been a long day, and I think it's best that we all rest. That way, we'll be thinking clearly when we pick this up again in the morning."

I can't argue, as much as I want to. As much as I want to dig and dig until there's no possible way for there to be any stone unturned, I know that, ultimately, it's useless. Nothing new will arise at this rate.

"Alright," I say defeatedly. "I'll be back tomorrow after class."

"I can drive you home," Joel says.

I don't really want to ride the subway, so I don't fight him. "I'd appreciate it. Thanks."

As we're leaving, I turn back in time to see Stan give Joel a thumbs up. I nearly scoff at the sight. Even now, Stan still seems like he's meddling. I get that he cares, but I wish he wouldn't push for Joel and me to be anything but professional.

"Goodnight, you two." Stan waves, reaching for his coffee.

It's not raining yet, but I'm almost certain that the sprinkling is going to transition to downpour in a few short minutes. Joel drives me back to my apartment in silence. I'm grateful. I like that he's realized there's nothing anyone can say that will make this feel any better.

"I know it's a hard case," he says. "If he's the killer, we'll convict him. Even guys like that forget one critical detail that gets them caught. It always happens that way."

I'm not as sure as he is. It's obvious that he holds his optimism tightly, but I know better than that. I know that justice is never a promise, and sometimes, you have to create your own.

That's partially why I started telling the chief about my visions. It seemed like it wouldn't work at first, but when he realized that I wasn't a kid who needed to be 51-50'd, he utilized me as a resource as much as possible.

I negotiated with him when he was holding his hand over his phone, ready to get me taken out of his office. Desperately, I told him he needed to listen to me. I still don't see why he did. I mean, a random college girl was telling him about a homicide that was going to occur in less than fifteen minutes. That kind of thing is too crazy for real life.

It was a gas station robbery. I bumped into one of the perpetrators on the subway and watched him get shot in the chest five times by a cop. He assaulted the cashier at the Food 'n Fuel just before.

Knowing it would happen soon, I bolted to the station and told Chief everything I saw with the hope it might save a life. He sat with me in his office for fifteen long minutes, for whatever reason, even though it was obvious he didn't believe me.

And then the call came.

He listened for a second, eyes wide with surprise. Then he looked at me, swearing under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned. Carrigan, was it? You were right."

Just like that. All it took was one short exchange to become the NYPD's secret weapon.

To this day, I have no idea why he didn't get security or why he didn't tell me that I was insane. I can't imagine why he actually waited to see it play out for himself.

I think, no matter how much he tries to pretend it isn't true, he still believes in miracles.

The difference between the chief, Joel, and me is that I don't believe in that stuff. I stopped believing there was anything close a long time ago.