Christina looked the judge right in the eyes. “I take my professional reputation and my ethical responsibilities seriously, sir. If you’re suggesting that I’m making false statements to the court, with no basis whatsoever, I will not hesitate to file a judicial complaint.”

“Young lady-”

“Don’t you young-lady me. I don’t care if you’re a federal judge or the Prince of Wales. I will not allow you to cast aspersions on my character.”

Ben stared at her, his eyes wide as balloons. Did she want to spend the night in jail?

To his amazement, Derek backed down. “Counsel, let’s return to the case at hand, shall we? I am not going to allow this pseudo-testimony into evidence, and I am certainly not going to reverse a well-reasoned jury verdict on its basis. Do you have anything else?”

Christina’s voice dropped several notches. “We’ve made several allegations of error in our petition.”

“All of which have been ruled upon previously by other courts. Do you have anything that is remotely new?”

“Not really.”

“Then under those circumstances, Ms. McCall, I’m afraid I have no choice but to-”

“Wait a minute. I do have something else. Something the police missed entirely.”

Ben sat up straight. Christina…

“And what would that be?”

“The fact that Ray Goldman couldn’t be the killer who massacred the entire Faulkner family.” She paused. “Because there were two of them.”

“Two? Miss McCall, what do you take me for?” If Derek had been angry before, now he looked ready to gnash Christina’s law diploma to pieces with his bare teeth.

Baxter nailed the boyfriend-James Wesley-on her first guess. Not that there were that many candidates at the funeral from whom to choose.

She discreetly flashed her badge, introduced herself, and asked if they could talk a moment in private.

“I suppose.” His expression was phlegmatic and contained. Was he really so unmoved? Or was he putting a brave face on it? “This day can’t get any worse.”

They moved to the shelter of a large oak tree in the corner of the cemetery. “I know this must be hard for you. I understand you were Erin Faulkner’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend may be pushing it.” He was a handsome black man, well educated. Way too young for Baxter, but he had an obvious appeal. His curly black locks alone would be the envy of many a woman. “We went out maybe five or six times.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Sheila Knight referred to you as Erin ’s boyfriend.”

“Too bad she didn’t tell Erin.”

“Something happened between the two of you?”

“Not that I know about.” Wesley ran his fingers through his curls. “Everything went fine on our dates. They were a trifle slow or awkward in places, but for first dates, really, they were fine. I wanted to see her again.”

“And you asked her?”

“Repeatedly. But she turned me down.”

“Did she give an explanation?”

“Not really. Just said she couldn’t do it again. Something like that.”

Baxter whipped her pocket notebook out of her jeans and made a few notes. “Any idea why?”

“How would I know? Maybe I was a lousy kisser.” He paused. “But I don’t think that was it. I think…” His eyes wandered about the green expanse of the cemetery. “I think she was afraid of getting too close.”

Huh. And I thought that was only men. “Why do you say that?”

“Do you know what happened to her family?”

“Of course.”

“Well, she never got over it. Not in seven years. It was like after she lost everyone she had ever loved-she never wanted to love again. Wouldn’t allow herself to love again.”

A possibility, Baxter supposed. “Was she seeing anyone else?”

“Not that I know about. Scratch that. I’m certain. I think I was the only guy she went out with the whole seven years. As far as I could tell. And I saw her pretty regularly, when I worked at the organ clinic.”

“You did? But you’re not there now?”

“No. I’m self-employed now. I have a hobby that I managed to turn into a profitable business.”

“So that’s why you left the clinic?”

“Well… no.” Wesley made a coughing sound, deep in his throat. “There was a misunderstanding with Dr. Palmetto. I was asked to leave.”

“Care to tell me the nature of the misunderstanding?”

“Not unless I have to.”

Baxter decided to let it go. For the moment, anyway. “So you left?”

“Yes. And I’m making twice now what I did then, thank you. But I missed seeing Erin every day. That was when I first got up the gumption to ask her out. After I left. I just missed her. We had worked closely together for four years. And I think she missed me, too.”

“But not enough for another date?”

“No,” Wesley said quietly. “I guess not.”

“Where were you when she was killed?”

“At home, as far as I know.”

“Witnesses?”

“I’m afraid I live alone. Housekeeper wasn’t in.”

Baxter nodded and made a few more notes. “Any idea what might’ve happened to her?”

Wesley suddenly seemed supremely uncomfortable. “I’ve… assumed she killed herself.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“That’s what it sounded like. In the papers. Gun still in her hand and all.”

“Any other reasons?”

He pushed himself away from the tree. “She was a very unhappy young woman. Many of us at work tried to help. We talked to her, included her in after-work get-togethers. But there was always…” His face contracted, wrinkles outlining his confusion. “A barrier. Between her and the rest of the world. Something that prevented her from making contact.”

“Any idea what that might be?”

He shook his head. “There was the tragedy, obviously. But I think there was more. I can’t explain it, but-I think she had a secret. Something none of us knew. And it tormented her.”

“Any idea what that secret might’ve been?”

Wesley turned away, staring off at the gravediggers who were finishing their work, burying Erin once and for always. “I wish to God I did. Because if I’d known, I might’ve been able to help her. And she needed someone to help her. More than anyone I’ve ever known. But as it was, I was useless.” He turned away. “I was no help to her at all.”

“So let me get this straight, counsel.” Judge Derek leaned back in his black padded chair. “You’re saying your client should be released from prison-because he didn’t act alone?”

Christina pressed her fingertips against the podium. “He didn’t act at all, your honor. He wasn’t there. But my point is that the law enforcement version of what happened-upon which the conviction of Ray Goldman rested-is absolutely inaccurate. The crime has never really been investigated. Not thoroughly.”

“But of course you have no proof.”

“We are actively following up every-”

“With all due respect, counsel, this crime occurred over seven years ago. It’s a little late.”

“We have several new leads.”

Derek shook his head. “Judicial decisions, at some point in time, must be granted finality. Imagine what would happen if I allowed every conviction to be overturned-or every punishment to be delayed-because seven years later someone comes up with a new theory.”

Ben saw tiny beads of perspiration appearing on Christina’s forehead. She was up against the wall, literally fighting for Ray’s life-and she knew it. “Your honor, we could not possibly anticipate that a critical prosecution witness would recant her testimony, much less that she would die soon thereafter.”

“Yes, but the problem is that all of this comes from the defense attorney. I can’t make a ruling based on theories and investigations cooked up by lawyers.”

“Sir, the police department is also investigating.”

That caught his attention. “They are?”

“Yes. They have two homicide detectives working this case as we speak.”

Jerry Weintraub rose. “Excuse me, your honor, but the AG’s office has been in communication with the Tulsa PD. I believe those detectives are looking into the death of Erin Faulkner-not the slaughter of her family seven years ago.”