John’s eyes darkened abruptly and his jaw tightened. „You’re sure?“

She remembered the way the man who sat in chair number three wouldn’t meet her eyes when the jury filed back in after four days of deliberations. How the other jury members looked at him with such contempt. „Sure I’m sure. He’s got a young family, lots of bills. He’s a prime target for a man like Jacob Conti. We all knew Conti was prepared to do anything to get his son off. Can I prove Juror Three took money from Conti in exchange for a hung jury?“ She shook her head. „No, I can’t.“

John’s fist clenched on the countertop. „So we’ve basically got nothing.“

Kristen shrugged. Exhaustion was beginning to set in. One too many sleepless nights before the culmination of a critical trial. And she knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight either. She knew that as soon as she laid her head on her pillow she’d hear the tortured cries of Paula Garcia’s young husband as the jury disbanded and Jacob Conti’s son walked away a free man. At least until they could try him again. „I’ll get started tracking Juror Three’s spending habits. Sooner or later he’ll spend the money to pay off his bills. It’s just a matter of time.“

„And in the meantime?“

„I’ll start a new trial. Angelo Conti will go back to Northwestern and resume his drinking and Thomas Garcia will go back to his empty apartment and stare at an empty crib.“

John sighed. „You did your best, Kristen. Sometimes that’s all we can do. If only…“

„If only he’d wrapped his Mercedes around a tree and not Paula Garcia,“ Kristen said bitterly. „If only he hadn’t been so drunk that pulling Paula Garcia from her wrecked car and beating her to death with a tire iron to keep her quiet seemed like a good idea.“ She was shaking now, a combination of exhaustion and grief for the woman and the unborn child that had died with her. „If only Jacob Conti was more concerned about teaching his son responsibility than keeping him out of prison.“

„If only Jacob Conti had taught his son responsibility before giving him the keys to a hundred-thousand-dollar sports car. Kristen, go home. You look like shit.“

Her laugh was wobbly. „You sure know how to charm a girl.“

He didn’t smile back. „I’m serious. You look like you’re about to drop right off your feet. I need you back here tomorrow ready to go again.“

She glanced up, her mouth bent in a wry grimace. „You sweet-talker, you.“

He did smile at that, briefly. Then he was sober once again. „I want Conti, Kristen. He’s corrupted the system, tainted the jury pool. I want him to pay.“

Kristen forced her body to slide off the stool, forced her legs to hold her up, fighting gravity and exhaustion. She met John’s eyes with grim determination. „No more than I do.“

Wednesday, February 18,

6:45 p.m.

Abe Reagan walked through the maze of detectives’ desks, well aware of the curious stares that followed him as he searched for Lieutenant Marc Spinnelli. His new CO.

He heard the conversation inside when he was three feet from Spinnelli’s cracked-open door. „Why him?“ a female voice demanded. „Why not Wellinski or Murphy? Dammit, Marc, I want a partner I can trust, not some new guy nobody knows about.“

Abe waited for Spinnelli’s response. He had no doubt the woman was his new partner and based on her recent loss, he couldn’t say he blamed Mia Mitchell for her attitude.

„You don’t want a new partner at all, Mia,“ came the level answer, and Abe figured that was true enough. „But you’re going to have a partner,“ Spinnelli continued, „and since last I looked I was your superior officer, I get to pick who that partner is.“

„I never said that.“ He shrugged. „Take a self-defense class.“

„I have.“ The elevator dinged and both of them jerked their eyes to the wall, waiting to see which set of doors would open first. The doors on the left slid open and the man waved his hand dramatically, gesturing her in first.

She assessed him with a shrewdness born of thousands of hours of associating with known felons who’d committed every unspeakable crime. This man was no danger, she could see that now. Still, Kristen Mayhew was a prudent woman. „I’ll wait for the next one.“

His blue eyes flashed. His square jaw clenched and a muscle twitched in his cheek. She’d offended him. Too damn bad. „I don’t hurt innocent women,“ he said tightly, holding the elevator doors back when they began to close. His powerful body settled slightly and she got the sudden impression he was as weary as she. „Come on, lady, I don’t want to hold this elevator all damn night, and I won’t leave you here all alone.“

Uneasily she glanced up and down the deserted hallway. She didn’t like loitering there any longer than she had to. So she walked into the elevator, annoyed as always when faced with the reality that despite ten years and five times as many self-therapy books, she was still afraid to be alone in a dark corridor. „Don’t call me ‘lady,’“ she snapped.

He followed her in and the doors slid closed. He faced her, his eyes now stern. „What was the first thing they taught you in that self-defense class, ma’am?“

She seethed under his patronizing tone. „Always to be aware of your surroundings.“

He simply lifted an arrogant brow and Kristen’s blood began to boil. „I was. I knew you were there, didn’t I? Even though you sneaked up on me.“ And he had. She swore he had not been there a moment before she sensed him and he hadn’t made a sound in his approach.

He snorted. „I’d been standing there for two whole minutes.“

Kristen narrowed her eyes. „I don’t believe you.“

He leaned back against the elevator wall, folding his arms across his chest. „‘Note to Maintenance,’“ he mimicked. „And my personal favorite, ‘Go home and rest, my ass.’“

Kristen felt her face flood with color. „Why haven’t we moved?“ she demanded, then rolled her eyes. Neither of them had punched a button. Quickly she jabbed the button for the second floor and the elevator began to move.

„And now I know where you’ve parked your car,“ he announced with a satisfied nod.

He was right. She’d ignored everything she’d learned about keeping herself safe. She rubbed her throbbing temples. „You were right, I was wrong. Are you satisfied now, sir?“

His lips curved at that and the sight took her breath away. A simple smile transformed his face from devastating to… devastating. Her poor, abused heart skipped a beat, and she had the good sense to be surprised at herself. She didn’t react to men, not that way, anyway. It wasn’t that she didn’t like them or notice them or even appreciate a good specimen here or there. And he was most definitely a good specimen. Tall, broad. Movie-star good looks. Of course she’d noticed him. She was human after all. Just slightly broken. The memory of a single word cut into her consciousness. No, there was no „slightly“ about it.

„No, ma’am,“ he said. „And I honestly didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You just seemed so pleasantly engaged in conversation with yourself and I didn’t want to barge in.“

Again her cheeks burned. „Don’t you ever talk to yourself?“

His smile dimmed and the look of almost desperate desolation returned to his eyes, making Kristen feel guilty for even asking the question. „On occasion,“ he murmured.

The elevator dinged again, and the doors opened to a darkened cavern of automobiles and the smell of stale oil and exhaust. This time his after-you gesture was much more subdued and Kristen wasn’t sure how to end the conversation.

„Look, I’m sorry I almost pepper-sprayed you. You were right. I should have been more aware of my surroundings.“

He studied her carefully. „You’re tired. People lower their guard when they’re tired.“

She smiled wryly. „So it shows, huh?“