“Bah! Cops fake DNA all the time. Everyone knows that.”

“Cops fake DNA?” Griffin glanced over at Fitz as if to ask if such a thing could be true. Fitz shrugged.

“Cops don't handle the DNA,” Fitz said. “And in this case, we had two different nurses and one medical examiner handing evidence over to three different couriers to be sent to the Department of Health. That's a lot of people for conspiracy, but hey, I'm just the poor dumb cop who gets accused of corruption anytime I do my job. You know-that's the way the world works.” He looked at Tawnya, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“Why would the cops tamper with evidence?” Griffin asked Tawnya more reasonably.

“The pressure, of course! Come on-three white women, attacked in their homes. One in a big fancy house on the East Side. Cops can't ignore that kind of thing. Then one dies and the whole state goes apeshit. Cops gotta arrest someone then. Next thing you know, cops are looking at blood drives and there you go. Young Hispanic male. Can't even afford an attorney. Eddie was guilty before they ever asked him a question. Cops got their arrest, mayor got his headline, and hey, who gives a fuck about the rest of us?”

“Eddie was victimized by the state?”

“Damn right.”

“Because he was a minority?”

“Damn right.”

“So if the state already had him on the rapes, who do you think shot him this morning?”

Tawnya finally drew up short. She inhaled deeply, held the breath in her lungs, then blew it out all at once. “Everybody thinks Eddie's a rapist. Everybody wants a rapist dead.”

“The threats on the radio station?”

“Yeah. And in the newspaper. And in prison.” She added hotly, “Tell me the truth, you really gonna do something about this?”

Griffin thought of the bank of microphones outside. He said honestly, “As of this morning, we had every state detective working this case.”

Tawnya narrowed her eyes. She wasn't dumb. “It's 'cause he was shot at the courthouse, isn't it? If they'd got him in prison, you wouldn't even be here right now. But they shot him in public. In front of cameras. That makes you guys look bad.”

“Murder is murder. We're on the case. I'm on the case.”

Tawnya snorted again, unimpressed. She did know how the world worked.

“Do you have any specific names?” Griffin asked. “People you know of who threatened Eddie? People you heard say they wanted him dead?”

“Nah. Check the papers. Talk to the prison guards. They should know. If they can be bothered to tell you.”

“Anyone else we should consider?”

“The fucking women, of course.”

“The three victims?”

“Victims, my ass. Those bitches are the ones who picked Eddie. They pushed for his arrest, harassed the cops all the time. Maybe they wanted to make sure it was done all the way. Eddie can't defend himself now. And hey, they don't have to worry about anything unpleasant coming out at trial.”

“Was something unpleasant going to come out at trial?” Griffin asked sharply.

“You never know.”

“Tawnya,” Fitz began warningly. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, but Tawnya shook her mass of dark hair.

“I'm not doing your job for you, Dickwad. You wanna know what was gonna happen, you figure out what was gonna happen. Now come on. I gotta feed my kid.” She turned around, gesturing at the handcuffs with her fingers. When Fitz still hesitated, she shot out, “I'll call the ACLU!”

Fitz grudgingly undid the bracelets, though Griffin noticed the Providence detective now leaned farther away, mindful of his face. Tawnya flashed her teeth at him, then smiled when he flinched.

“I don't care what you guys think,” Tawnya said right before she left the room. “I was with Eddie those nights. I know he didn't hurt those women. And you wanna hear something else? You guys are screwed. 'Cause that dude's still out there. And now Eddie's gone. No one to blame anymore. No one to hide behind. It's a full moon tonight. Perfect weather for when the College Hill Rapist rides again.”

Fitz and Griffin didn't speak until they were back on the street, climbing into Fitz's beat-up detective's car.

“Is it just me,” Griffin said, “or is Tawnya the spitting image of Meg Pesaturo?”

“Wait 'til you see a photo of Trisha Hayes. Oh yeah, Eddie definitely had a type.”

“She would've made a good witness for the defense,” Griffin commented.

“Yes and no. Eddie's phone calls to the women… One way it could've been done was if someone on his approved calling list, say his girlfriend, had a phone feature, say call forwarding, and, ignoring the recorded warning which specifically says do not forward this call, did it anyway.”

“Ah, so pretty little Tawnya takes her girlfriend duties seriously.”

“ACI has tapes of the calls if you want to listen.”

“Anything good?”

“Only if you buy into conspiracy theories. Eddie seemed convinced that the women were out to get him. Of course, the inmates know their calls are taped, so it might have merely been window dressing for the trial.”

“That was going to be his defense? That three strange women were picking on poor little innocent him?”

“The perpetrator as victim. It's a classic.”

“And unfortunately, it seems there's always someone in the jury box who buys it.”

“Damn juries,” Fitz muttered.

“Yeah, whatever happened to good old-fashioned mob justice? String 'em up, cut ' em down. Saves a ton of money on appeal.”

Fitz eyed Griffin suspiciously, probably trying to figure out if he was toying with him or not. Griffin kind of was, kind of wasn't. The jury system was a royal pain in the ass.

Fitz glanced at his watch. “It's three o'clock now. Somehow, I don't think we're going to have this wrapped up in time for the five o'clock news.”

“Doesn't look it.”

“In fact, given that nobody seems to want to magically confess, I'm guessing this might take a bit.”

“It might.”

“That gonna be a problem?” Fitz's gaze went to Griffin 's overpumped chest and hard-lined face. Griffin understood what he was asking.

“Not for me,” he said.

“I was just wondering-”

“I'm back. When you're back on the job, you're back on the job. You can't do policing halfway.”

“I never thought so.” Fitz's eyes were still narrowed, appraising. “Look, I'm just going to lay it on the table. If we're going to work together on this, I think I have the right to know a few things.”

“Such as?”

“I heard about that Candy Man case, that it went on a little too long, then got a little too personal. Did you really beat up two detectives in the kid's house? Nearly put one of them in the hospital?”

Griffin was silent for a moment. “That's what I'm told,” he said at last.

“You don't remember?”

“It's a bit of a blur. I wasn't aiming for Detective Waters or O'Reilly anyway. They were simply doing the honorable thing and throwing themselves in the way.”

“You were going after Price.”

“Something like that.”

“And if you'd gotten to him?”

“We'll never know, will we?”

Fitz grunted at that. “You on Prozac?”

“I don't take any meds.”

“Why not?”

Griffin smiled. “Not that kind of crazy.”

“Just wear my hockey mask?”

Griffin 's smile grew. “You could try, Detective, but I don't make any promises.”

“Hey now-”

“Look,” Griffin said, his tone serious because they weren't going to get this wrapped up by five so they might as well clear the air. “I'm not going to attack you. Two years ago, when my wife died… I let too many things go. Personally. Professionally. Life, this job… You gotta take care of things. We all learn, one way or the other. Last year was my lesson. I got it. I'm on top of things now.”

Fitz remained silent, so maybe he had his own opinions on that subject.

“I'm sorry about your wife,” Fitz said at last.