They were quiet on the drive home. As Geoff walked Kerry to her door, he reached for her key. “My mother said you should always open the door for the lady. I hope that’s not too sexist.”

“No, it isn’t. Not for me at least. But maybe I’m just old-fashioned.” The sky above them was blue-black and brilliant with stars. A sharp wind was blowing, and Kerry shivered from the chill.

Geoff noticed and quickly turned the key, then pushed open the door. “You’re not dressed warmly enough for the night air. You’d better get inside.”

As she moved through the entrance, he stayed on the porch, making no move to indicate that he expected her to invite him in. Instead he said, “Before I leave, I have to ask, where do we go from here?”

“I’m going in to see Dr. Smith as soon as he’ll give me an appointment. But it’s better that I go alone.”

“Then we’ll talk in the next few days,” Geoff said. He smiled briefly and started down the porch steps. Kerry closed the door and walked into the living room but did not immediately turn on the light. She realized she was still savoring the moment when Geoff had taken the key from her hand and opened the door for her. Then she went to the window and watched as he backed his car out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.

Daddy is such fun, Robin thought as she contentedly sat next to him in the Jaguar. They had inspected the ski lodge Bob Kinellen was thinking about buying. She thought it was cool, but he said it was a disappointment. “I want one where we can ski to the door,” he had said, and then he’d laughed. “We’ll just keep looking.”

Robin had brought her camera, and her father waited while she took two rolls of film. Even though there was only a little snow on the peaks, she thought the light on the mountains was fantastic. She caught the last rays of the setting sun, and then they started back. Her father said he knew a great place where they could get terrific shrimp.

Robin knew that Mom was mad at Daddy because he hadn’t talked to her after the accident, but he had left a message. And it was true, she didn’t get to see him much, but when they were together, he was great.

At six-thirty they stopped at the restaurant. Over shrimp and scallops, they talked. He promised that this year for sure they would go skiing, just the two of them. “Sometime when Mom’s on a date.” He winked.

“Oh, Mom doesn’t date much,” she told him. “I kind of liked someone who took her out a couple of times during the summer, but she said he was boring.”

“What did he do?”

“He was an engineer, I think.”

“Well, when Mommy’s a judge, she’ll probably end up dating another judge. She’ll be surrounded by them.”

“A lawyer came to the house the other night,” Robin said. “He was nice. But I think it was just business.”

Bob Kinellen had been only partially involved in the conversation. Now he became attentive. “What was his name?”

“Geoff Dorso. He brought over a big file for Mommy to read.”

When her father suddenly became very quiet, Robin had the guilty feeling that maybe she had said too much, that maybe he was mad at her.

When they got back in the car, she slept the rest of the way, and when her father dropped her off at nine-thirty, she was glad to be home.

The senate and assembly of the State of New Jersey were having a busy fall. The twice-weekly sessions were almost one hundred percent attended, and for a good reason: The upcoming gubernatorial election, although still a year away, created a behind-the-scenes electricity that crackled through the atmosphere of both chambers.

The fact that Governor Marshall seemed intent on backing Prosecutor Frank Green as his successor did not sit well with a number of his party’s other eager would-be candidates. Jonathan Hoover knew full well that any crack in Green’s potential ability to be elected would be welcomed by other contenders. They would seize on it and create as much of a distraction as possible. If it got loud enough, it could easily shake loose Green’s hold on the nomination. Right now it was far from a lock.

As president of the senate, Hoover had enormous power in party politics. One of the reasons he had been elected five times to four-year terms was his ability to take the long-range view when making decisions or when casting votes. His constituents appreciated that.

On days that the senate met, he sometimes stayed in Trenton and had dinner with friends. Tonight he would be dining with the governor.

Following the afternoon session, Jonathan returned to his private office, asked his secretary to take messages and closed the door. For the next hour he sat at his desk, his hands folded under his chin. It was the posture Grace called “Jonathan at prayer.”

When he finally got up, he walked over to the window to stare at the darkening sky. He had made an important decision. Kerry McGrath’s probing into the Reardon murder case had created a real problem. It was exactly the kind of thing the media would run with, trying to make it into something sensational. Even if in the end it came to nothing, which Jonathan fully expected, it would create a negative perception of Frank Green and would effectively derail his candidacy.

Of course, Kerry might just drop the whole thing before it got that far-he certainly hoped she would, for everyone’s sake. Still, Jonathan knew it was his duty to warn the governor about her investigation so far and to suggest that, for the present, her name should not be submitted to the senate for approval of her judgeship. He knew it would be embarrassing to the governor to have one of his potential appointees effectively working against him.

On Monday morning Kerry found a package in her office, and inside was a Royal Doulton china figurine, the one called “Autumn Breezes.” There was a note with it:

Dear Ms. McGrath,

Mom’s house is sold and we’ve cleared out all our stuff. We’re moving to Pennsylvania to live with our aunt and uncle.

Mom always kept this on her dresser. It had been her mother’s.

She said it made her happy to see it.

You’ve made us so happy by making sure that the guy who killed Mom pays for his crime that we want you to have it. It’s our way of saying thanks.

The letter was signed by Chris and Ken, the teenage sons of the supervisor who had been murdered by her assistant.

Kerry blinked back tears as she held the lovely object. She called in her secretary and dictated a brief letter:

By law, I’m not allowed to accept any gifts, but, Chris and Ken, I promise you, if it were different, this would be one I’d cherish. Please keep it for me and for your mom.

As she signed the letter she thought about the obvious bond between these brothers, and between them and their mother. What would become of Robin if something happened to me? she wondered. Then she shook her head. There’s nothing to be gained in being morbid, she thought. Besides, there was another, more pressing, parent/child situation to investigate.

It was time to pay a visit to Dr. Charles Smith. When she called his office, the answering service picked up. “They won’t be in until eleven today. May I take a message?”

Shortly before noon, Kerry received a return call from Mrs.

Carpenter.

“I’d like to have an appointment to speak with the doctor as soon as possible,” Kerry said. “It’s important.”

“What is this in reference to, Ms. McGrath?”

Kerry decided to gamble. “Tell the doctor it’s in reference to Suzanne.”

She waited nearly five minutes, then heard Dr. Smith’s cold, precise voice. “What do you want, Ms. McGrath?” he asked.

“I want to talk to you about your testimony at Skip Reardon’s trial, Doctor, and I’d appreciate doing it as soon as possible.”