He lowered his mug to his side, closing his eyes. This was what he hadn't wanted to hear, but what he'd feared he would discover from Boyd's attorney. The details hadn't been laid out in the article. It had said only that there had been some problems with the original case against the man. Problems involving evidence and, of course, the loss of the witness.

"The fact that the victim's aunt was your employee didn't hurt, either. But the real icing on the cake was you reporting that evidence tampering when you did. I mean, if you'd blown the lid off that a few months later, I might not have had as much legal maneuvering room. As it was, the timing was just close enough for the judge to buy it as a reason to throw out the evidence."

An almost tangible wave of red washed over his vision and a vicious headache began to pound in his brain. Each thud of his pulse ratcheted it higher until the pressure felt likely to blow through his temples.

"Can't imagine how tough it must be for you, since Fletcher worked for you. Thank God she's not alive to know your whistle-blowing helped get the guy accused of killing her nephew off the hook."

The woman's chipper voice assaulted him with every syllable. No, he hadn't been taken completely by surprise. A tiny part of him had worried that his actions might have had something to do with this case.

He had long ago accepted the fact that, by doing what he had done, reporting what he knew, he could be costing the convictions of some pretty horrific criminals. That knowledge had kept him up night after night, racking his brain, trying to find some other way. In the end, there had been no other way. He was an officer of the law surrounded by lawlessness. He'd done what he had to do, fully prepared to accept all consequences.

But not this one.

Jesus, not this one. He did not want to put the phone down, turn around, and admit the truth to Lily.

"Now, is there something I can actually help you with, Agent Blackstone? Or did you simply call out of morbid curiosity?"

Wyatt pulled his thoughts together, focusing only on getting information. Not on past cases, not on old mistakes. Only on now.

"I'm curious," he said, wondering whether she could hear the tightness, the barely controlled anger in his voice, "about how you got involved with the case."

The woman didn't answer.

"I mean, you weren't the original attorney of record. Who brought you into the case at this late date?"

Ms. Vincent sounded a little less amused and a lot more cool when she answered. "I am not at liberty to discuss my clients You know that."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm simply curious. From what I remember, Boyd doesn't exactly come from a wealthy background. He couldn't afford more than a public defender at the original trial."

"I repeat, I'm not at liberty to discuss my clients, nor who's paying their bills. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am due in court this morning. Good-"

"One more thing," he interjected smoothly. "I was wondering, since I haven't seen your name in any local cases, where your practice is located."

A brief hesitation said she was considering whether to respond. The question was a perfectly innocuous one, though Wyatt very much wanted to know the answer. Finally, as if realizing he could get the information if he dug for it, anyway, she admitted, "My firm is located in Williamsburg, Virginia, Agent Blackstone. Now, I really must go. Good-bye."

Brandon lived close to headquarters, so rather than taking the Metro down to Alexandria first thing in the morning, he went to the office first. He had something he needed to retrieve.

As soon as he got there, though, Jackie waylaid him, pulling him into her office before he could even get close to his. "Anspaugh's here again," she explained as she softly closed the door behind him. "And he's been barking your name since yesterday. The minute he sees you, he's going to want to question you."

"Does he have a warrant?" he snapped.

"Get real. You know you can't refuse."

Right. Which meant he better make sure he remained scarce so Anspaugh never got the chance to ask.

"Where's Wyatt?"

"At home, as far as I know," he replied.

"Crandall has called twice and he sounds like he is going to shout his office walls down if Wyatt doesn't show up this morning. He calmed down about yesterday when I forwarded him Wyatt's actual airline itinerary, proving he'd gone up to his place in Maine, and couldn't come in. But that also means he saw the trip was for one day only and he was coming back last night."

Brandon smiled. Forwarding the itinerary as a way to get Crandall off their backs for a day had been his idea. It had, however, as Jackie had just reminded him, bought them only one day. Which wasn't enough.

He and Wyatt had already been on the phone this morning, and they'd both agreed they needed more evidence before they allowed Lily to turn herself in. Evidence in both cases-to show that not only was she not the lily killer, but somebody else was setting her up to take the fall. And that she was in very real danger.

They needed time. They also needed help. Which was why he was about to take one of the biggest gambles of his life.

"Jackie, do you have some sense about what's going on around here?" He stared at her directly, letting her know he was done covering up, skirting around the real story.

"It involves Lily."

"Yes, it does."

Jackie lifted a shaking hand to her throat. "You know what happened to her."

He nodded once. But before he could say another word, the door to her office burst open. Kyle Mulrooney stuck his head in and said in a loud whisper, "Anspaugh heard somebody say you were here, Cole, and he's looking for you. He's in Alec's office right now, but Alec won't be able to stall him for long. Get outta here unless you want to be questioned all day."

No, he couldn't afford that. Lily couldn't afford that, either.

"My office is next in line. I'll try to hold him up, too," the gruff, older agent said, shooting him a conspiratorial look. It was as if all the other team members knew Brandon was up to something, and they trusted him enough to cover his ass without asking a lot of questions.

He had never been more thankful to work with this team, these people, than right now. He only hoped every one of them didn't hate his guts when they found out he'd helped Wyatt cover up the truth about Lily for so very long.

After Kyle ducked back out, Brandon strode toward the door, peering out into the hall. Anspaugh's blustery voice was easily heard from down the hall, two doors past his own office.

It was incredibly risky, but he wasn't leaving here without what Wyatt had asked him to get. Namely, the audio files from the other medical conventions that he'd been working on until yesterday's impromptu trip to Maine.

Before he left, he grabbed Jackie's arm. She was watching him, wide-eyed, tense, and silent. "Come to

Wyatt's when you can," he insisted. "Just come and you'll understand."

Then he checked the hallway again, dashed down it as quickly as he could, and ducked into his own office. The audio files were backed up on a flash drive. Considering a lot of his stuff had been gone through, he only hoped Anspaugh had been as inept in his search as he was at everything else.

The voices moved closer, out in the hall. Then he heard Kyle Mulrooney ask Anspaugh to step into his office on some pretext. He was almost out of time.

Spying the drive still sticking out of his CPU, Brandon yanked it free, breaking every one of his own rules about how to handle his backups. He shoved it into his pocket, then, still certain the voices were coming from inside the next office, dashed out of his own. He didn't turn around, didn't even hesitate; he simply hurried to the main doors of the suite and burst through them into the outer corridor.