Padolino paused at the defendant’s table, nodded politely to Christina, then looked Ben square in the eye. “Life, incarceration at the upscale prison in Arlington, possibility of parole in eight years.”

“You call that an offer?” Ben said. It was his standard reply to all plea bargains; the only thing it meant was that he needed more time to think.

“I call that the best you’re going to get. The prison I’m offering has tennis courts, for God’s sake. A nine-hole golf course.”

“Sorry, but-”

“Ben, once the trial starts, there’s no stopping it. All offers are off the table.”

Ben turned toward his client.

“No conversation required,” Glancy said, holding up a hand. “I did not commit this atrocity. I will not plead guilty to it, not if your offer was one day of community service at a candy factory.”

“And there you have it,” Ben said.

“I’m not kidding, Ben. This is our final offer.”

“And we’re declining.”

Padolino’s cool melted a bit. “You’re both being irrational. I’m trying to do you a favor!” He stomped back to his table.

Despite Padolino’s protest, Ben suspected he wasn’t all that surprised by their decline of his offer, or disappointed. No trial lawyer who’d come this far wanted to pack it in before it started.

Barely a minute later, Judge Herndon emerged from his chambers, preceded by his bailiff.

“Oyez, oyez, oyez,” the bailiff chanted. The judge took his seat.

The trial had begun.

Leave immediately, the man had said. When it’s safe, I’ll find you, he’d promised. So where the heck was he?

Loving sat on a bench on the south side of the Reflecting Pool, crossing his legs from one side to the other, staring at the passing joggers, watching the squirrels in the trees, bored to tears. He’d never been good at sitting still. The view was lovely, not only the Pool but of the Lincoln Memorial at the opposite end and all the cherry trees lining the perimeter. But he hated waiting, and he hated all the oh-so-mysterious cloak-and-dagger baloney. That wasn’t how they operated back in Tulsa.

He checked his watch. He’d been sitting for more than an hour. Even if he didn’t have any other decent leads-or, for that matter, any indecent leads-this was more than he could bear. The guy obviously wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d give up on the chump and pay a visit to Honest Abe. There was a man you could count on.

He started to push himself to his feet, and just as he did, he felt a pair of hands slap down on his shoulders and shove him back down onto the bench.

“Don’t turn around!” the voice commanded, stifling Loving’s natural instinct.

“Why not?”

“I swear, if you turn around, I won’t tell you a thing.”

“Fine. I won’t look at your pretty face.” At least, not yet. “So whaddya got for me?”

“A name.” He was breathless, making an effort to stay low-key and quiet. But it was definitely a man. “Colleen Tomei.”

Colleen Tomei. Loving ran the name through his cranial database a few times. He’d heard it before, but where? Oh-right. “She was a friend of Veronica Cooper’s. I tried to track her down. Never found her.”

“And there’s a reason for that.” Loving could feel his informant twisting from side to side, as if checking to make sure he hadn’t been spotted. “She’s been eliminated.”

“Eliminated? Whaddya mean?”

There was a long pause. Loving could feel the hands on his shoulders lightening. Was this guy planning to bolt? Because if he did-

“Look, I can only stay another minute. I’ve taken too many risks as it is. If he found out-”

“There you go again. Who?”

The voice behind him barreled onward, ignoring the question. “There were four of them: Veronica, Colleen, Amber, and Beatrice. Four DC girls who liked to party. But they got into some weird stuff. Seriously weird stuff.”

“Like drugs? Bad boys?”

“That’s not the half of it. Just listen, okay? They got in over their heads, seriously kinked, and that’s why you’re never, ever gonna find Colleen. But there’s still a chance for the other two. If you move quickly.”

“And why do I hafta move quickly?” Other than the fact that Ben’s trial had already started.

“Because you’re not the only one looking, idiot. Do you think he doesn’t know? Do you think he can risk them talking? After what happened to Colleen?”

“I’m sorry, man, but you’re not makin’ any sense.”

“I don’t have time to make sense!” Loving felt the hands on his shoulders trembling. “Look, I’ve got to get out of here.”

Loving almost turned. “And suppose I don’t let you leave?”

“Then you don’t get the only lead you’re ever going to get!” he said, raising his voice. “I don’t know where Amber is, but I know how you can find her. And I’ll tell you. If you promise you won’t turn around. Won’t move a muscle, and will give me a full minute to get away.”

“And what makes you think I’d keep that promise?”

“Because I checked you out before I called. You’re a man of your word, that’s what I hear. Is that right?”

Loving didn’t answer.

“Will you keep the bargain?”

Loving sighed heavily. “I’ll keep the bargain. But why are you helpin’ me?”

“Because this has got to stop, man. I mean, it was fun at first. I really went for it. It appealed to my dark side, you know? Made me feel like I belonged. But this-what’s happened now-God. It’s just got to stop.”

“Can’t you stop it?”

The man laughed. “Me? Against him? Jesus!” Loving felt the hands lifting from his shoulders. “Look, I’m making tracks.”

“The lead!” Loving shouted. “You never gave me the lead!”

There was a moment of hesitation. “Martin’s Tavern, after dark. Through the back door, down the alley. Look for an escort service.”

“An escort service!”

“When you get there, ask for Lucille.” His hands rose off Loving’s shoulders. “I’m outta here.”

“Wait!”

“Remember your bargain!” the man hissed, and Loving could tell from the sound of his voice that he was already moving away.

Blast! He should look, he knew he should, any other investigator would. But the man had played him perfectly. He’d given his word. He wasn’t going to break it.

As soon as his watch told him the minute was up, Loving jumped to his feet and looked all around. No trace of the informant. Or, to be more accurate, no one he could positively identify as the informant, given the large number of people surrounding the Pool.

What had the man been babbling about? Who was this person he was so scared of? And what could those four party girls have been involved with that could lead to Veronica Cooper’s murder in the U.S. Senate?

He didn’t know. Didn’t have any idea. But at long last, he had a clue. Or a chance of one. If the man wasn’t totally whacked, or playing him. Or covering up something by leading Loving in the wrong direction. It was impossible to know.

Only one thing was certain. Tonight Ben was going to have to schlep his own gear back from the courtroom. Loving was going tavern-hopping.