“That’s not fair,” she said, tears close to the edge.

“Life isn’t fair,” he said, still calmly. But his eyes were tormented and she could keep the tears at bay no longer.

“He was my brother.” She glared at him, blinking away the tears in frustration. “Don’t you get it? He was my brother and I let him do that to me. I let him do it to others. Because I said nothing, fifteen other girls got raped and seventeen other people are dead in Philadelphia. How do I ever make that right?”

Al gripped her upper arms. “You can’t. You. Can’t. And if that’s why you’re testifying, it’s the wrong reason. I won’t let you ruin your career for the wrong reason.”

“I’m testifying because it’s the right thing to do.”

He looked her square in the eye. “Are you sure you’re not doing this because of Darcy Williams?”

Everything inside her froze. Her heart stopped. Dropped to her stomach. Her mouth moved, but no words would come out. In a blink, she saw the scene. All the blood. Darcy’s body. All that blood. And Al knew. He knows. He knows. He knows.

“I’ve always known, Susannah. You didn’t think a smart cop like Detective Reiser would take an anonymous tip on something so important, did you? Not on a homicide.”

Somehow she found her voice. “I didn’t think he ever knew who’d called him.”

“He knew. He set up a second call, saying he wanted to verify your initial information. He’d traced your first tip to a public phone booth and when you called a second time, he was waiting down the block, watching.”

“I’m a creature of habit,” she said dully. “I went back to the same phone booth.”

“Most people do. You know that.”

“So why didn’t he ever say anything?” She closed her eyes, mortification mixing with the shock. “We’ve worked on a dozen cases since then. He never let on he knew.”

“He followed you home that night. You were working for me then and Reiser and I go way back, so he came to me first. You were only an intern, but I already could see the promise in you.” He sighed. “And the rage. You were always polite, always in control, but behind your eyes was rage. When Reiser told me what you’d witnessed, I knew you had to be into something very dark. I asked him if he believed you’d done anything illegal yourself and he didn’t have anything to say you had.”

“So you asked him to keep my name out of it,” she said stiffly.

“Only if he found no evidence of your having done anything wrong. He was able to use your tips to get a warrant and found the murder weapon in the killer’s closet along with shoes with Darcy’s blood in the laces. He made his case without you.”

“But if he hadn’t been able to, you would have let him call me to the stand.”

Al’s smile was grim. “It would have been the right thing to do. Susannah, you visit Darcy’s grave every year on the day of her death. You still grieve for her. But you turned your life around. You’ve prosecuted offenders with a passion we rarely see. There was nothing to be gained from your coming forward on Darcy Williams’s death.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said. “I have to look at myself, every day, and know I did a passable copy of the right thing. This time, I want to be able to live with what I’ve done. I have to do this, Al. I’ve lived with the shame of the wrong thing for almost half my life. I want to live the rest of my life able to hold my head up to anyone I meet. If I have to sacrifice my career to do that, then I will. I can’t believe you, of all people, are trying to talk me out of this. You’re an officer of the court, for God’s sake.”

“I took off my DA hat the moment I walked in this door. I’m here as your friend.”

Her throat closed and she resolutely cleared it. “There are lots of other prosecutors out there with pasts like mine. They make it work.”

Again his smile was grim. “Their last name wasn’t Vartanian.”

She winced. “Point made. But my decision is the same. The SA and I have an appointment tomorrow morning at nine. She’ll come here. I’ll give her my statement.”

“Do you want me to be here?”

“No.” Uttering the word was reflex. But it wasn’t true. “Yes,” she said.

He nodded steadily. “All right.”

She hesitated. “Then I’m going to a funeral. In Dutton.”

“Whose funeral?”

“Sheila Cunningham. She was one of Simon’s gang’s fifteen rape victims. This past Tuesday night she was going to give my brother Daniel some information about the assaults thirteen years ago, but she was killed before she could talk to him. One of the gang members was our hometown deputy. He arranged for Sheila to be killed, then killed the hit man to keep him quiet. Today the deputy shot my brother.”

Al’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me your brother had been shot when you called.”

“No, I didn’t.” And she was too mixed up in her mind about Daniel to understand why she had not. “Daniel will be all right, thanks to his girlfriend, Alex.”

“Is the deputy in custody?”

“Of a fashion. After he shot Daniel, he turned his gun on Alex. She shot him dead.”

Al blinked. “I need another drink.” Susannah pulled another little bottle of scotch from the minibar, along with a bottle of water for herself.

Al tapped his glass to her bottle. “To the right thing.”

She nodded. “Even when it’s the hard thing.”

“I’d like to meet your brother Daniel. I’ve read a lot about him.”

Even when it’s the hard thing. Like it or not, ready or not, Daniel would be part of her life for the foreseeable future. “He can have visitors starting tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to go to this woman’s funeral with you?”

“You don’t have to,” she said and he gave her a look, as if he were counting to ten.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Susannah. You never did. Let me help you.”

Relief had her shoulders slumping. “It’s at eleven. We need to leave right after I talk with Ms. Hathaway.”

“Then I’ll let you sleep. Try not to worry.”

“I’ll try. You…” Her throat tightened. “You made me believe in the law, Al. I know it works. It didn’t work for me before, because I never gave it the chance.”

“Tomorrow at nine. We’ll give it a chance this time.”

She saw him to the door. “I’ll be here. Thank you.”

Atlanta , Friday, February 2, 11:30 p.m.

Luke stepped into the elevator in Susannah’s hotel, the aroma of food smacking him hard. A white-coated waiter stood behind a room service tray set for two. Luke glanced down at the room service tray longingly. It had been a long time since he’d eaten and all he’d get tonight was a burger from whatever drive-thru was still open.

You could be eating that burger right now. You could have just called her to ask about the cabin. Of course he could have, and should have. Yet here he was.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “After you, sir,” the waiter said.

Luke nodded and headed for Susannah’s room. She’s probably asleep. You should just have called. But if he’d called, he definitely would have woken her. Now, he could listen at the door. If he didn’t hear anything, he’d leave. You go right on thinking that, Papa. You just want to see her again, make sure she’s all right.

Just to make sure she was all right. Yeah, that was it. Uh-huh.

A door opened at the end of the hall and an older man emerged, someone in the room closing the door behind him. The man was about fifty-five, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie. He scrutinized Luke, directly meeting his eyes as they passed.

Frowning, Luke turned to watch the man and almost collided with the waiter pushing the room service cart-who stopped at the door from which the man had emerged.

Luke frowned again when Susannah answered the waiter’s knock. She’d started to sign the bill when she realized Luke was there. “Agent Papadopoulos,” she said.