“Oh… God!” she gasped. She began to tremble, sobbing at a nearly hysterical pitch. “I didn’t want to do it! They made me!”

“I’m sure they did,” Swift said, wrapping an arm around her. “Now let’s go inside and talk about it.”

Twenty minutes and two cups of coffee later, Shelly had herself sufficiently under control that she could tell them her story without breaking down. And no one would dream of interrupting her. Because what she had to say was incredible.

“They came to my apartment, after my shift.” She sat on a sofa in the break room behind the kitchen of the club. “I was getting ready for a date-all alone, totally vulnerable. Two men. They threw me down on the sofa.” Her face turned ash white, just from the memory. “I thought they were going to kill me.”

“What did they do?”

“They said things, called me ugly names, and they… touched me. Pawed me. One of them jerked up my shirt, and-and-he had a knife and-oh, God, I was so scared! I was afraid-”

“I can imagine,” Baxter said, trying to calm her. “It sounds horrible.”

“What did they want?” Mike asked.

“They wanted Tony. Poor Tony.” Tears seeped from her eyes. “They wanted me to call him up, get him to come over to my place.”

“Did they say why?”

“Not exactly. But they kept calling Tony their partner. Said they’d been working on something together.”

“Did they say what?”

“No. But there was a lot of money involved. And a kid. Several times they referred to a kid.”

Mike, Swift, and Baxter all exchanged looks.

“Why not just wait till Tony left the club after work?”

“Because then he would be with Roger, his boyfriend. They wanted him to leave alone.”

“Was Manny Nowosky one of the men?” Mike asked.

She nodded. “With someone else. That chicken I’d seen in the bar.”

“So what happened? Did you do it?”

“I didn’t want to!” Her face was stricken, contorted by grief. “I refused, several times. Told them I wouldn’t help them.”

“And then?”

“One of them-Manny-knocked me across the face. Called me a dirty little bitch and told me I would do what he said or he’d hurt me. Hurt me bad.”

“So you called.”

“Not at first! I held out as long as I could. I told them I couldn’t, wouldn’t know what to say. Manny got really mad.”

“Did he… hurt you?”

“Not just then. He and the other guy argued for a long time. Manny said he wanted to take me apart, limb by limb. Wanted to hurt me and hurt me till I would beg for the chance to do what they wanted. Then, suddenly, the argument ended. Manny grabbed my arm and jerked me into the kitchen. He pulled a butcher knife out of the drawer and-and-” She threw herself down, her face pressed against a sofa cushion. “He cut me! Don’t you understand? He cut me!”

Mike motioned to Swift, encouraging her to try to comfort the woman. He was useless when it came to this kind of trauma.

Shelly continued. “He slashed my wrist. Not so bad I would die, but the pain was incredible. He wanted me to tell Tony I’d tried to kill myself, that I was losing blood fast. He knew that would get him out of the club and over here in a hurry.” Another wave of tears followed. “And I did it. God help me, but I did it.”

“You had no choice,” Swift said softly, stroking her hair. “None at all.”

“Manny listened in with the knife at my throat the whole time. I told Tony I’d been depressed and I’d slashed my wrist and I didn’t know what to do. Of course, he said he’d come right over. He was always so good. He loved me, he really did. And I loved him.” She buried her face again. “So he left the club in a hurry. Alone. Don’t you see? I killed him! Just as much as anyone. It was my fault!”

“That’s absurd,” Swift said, cradling the distraught woman in her arms. “It was not your fault.”

“This is all well and good,” Baxter said, “but why didn’t you say anything about it before now?”

“I think I can answer that question,” Mike answered. “You didn’t want to see those two men again.”

“I was so scared,” Shelly said. She was rocking back and forth, hugging her knees. “So terrified they would return. Even after I knew Manny and Charlie were dead. He killed Tony. And Manny, right?”

“Probably,” Mike acknowledged. “And Charlie.”

“And he would’ve killed me, if I’d told you what happened. I didn’t like lying. But I had no choice. After I bandaged my wrist, I put my arm in a sling to try to conceal what had happened. I started telling people that I’d hurt myself, hysterical about what had happened to Tony. Any story. Just so no one would know what had really happened.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Mike said quietly. “A lot tougher types than you would’ve caved if something like that had happened to them.”

“I’m still not getting this,” Baxter said. “We know those two fraternity creeps beat up Tony after he left the club. Did Manny and his pals know they were after him? Were they all working together?”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Mike answered. “More likely the frat boys got to Tony before Manny had a chance.”

“Lucky day for Tony Barovick,” Swift said ruefully. “People waiting in line to hurt him.”

“That’s his reward for partnering with murderous thugs,” Mike replied. He pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket and started dialing. “That Christensen kid has been saying all along he and his friend didn’t kill Tony, but no one believed him. Including me.” He punched in a phone number. “Damn it. I hate it when Ben and Christina are right.”

“Hello?” said Ben’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“Good afternoon, counselor,” Mike answered. “Court adjourned for the day?”

“Just a break.”

“How’s it looking?”

“Like our client is going down hard, barring a miracle.”

“Well,” Mike said, casting a look around the room, “I know I’m never going to convince you that I’m an angel. But I may have just the miracle you’ve been looking for.”

46

“Do you think this is going to work?” Christina whispered to Ben as she saw the bailiff emerging from the judge’s chambers.

“I don’t know,” he said, lips tight. Christina knew the expression-it was a sign his brain was working, probably several steps ahead of hers. “Coming this late in the game, I’m afraid the jury won’t believe it. It would be better if we could produce the fourth man, the remaining kidnapper.”

“Well, yes, I’m sure the police would like that, too. But how do you plan to accomplish it?”

“I’ve got an idea, but it’s risky.”

“Ben, there will be no second chance. If we don’t do something immediately, the case will end, it will go to the jury, Johnny will be on death row, and all the evidence on heaven and earth won’t be enough to get him out.”

“True.” He hesitated. “I should probably run this by Mike first.” He shook his head. “But he’d never permit it.”

Judge Lacayo called the court back into session. “Ms. McCall, I understand you have an additional witness to call who is not on your list?”

“Yes, your honor.” Christina rose to her feet. “We call Shelly Chimka to the stand.”

Drabble was predictably outraged. He moaned about sleazy defense tricks and fair notice and the pointlessness of submitting witness lists if the parties weren’t going to be bound by them. But in chambers, Christina produced Major Mike Morelli, who assured the judge that this witness had just been found, and furthermore that her testimony was not only critical to the case but that a gross miscarriage of justice might result if the witness was not heard. Under those circumstances, the judge had little choice.

All things considered, Shelly did an admirable job on the stand. Ben and Christina’d had little time to prepare her, and this was only the second time she’d told her story to anyone. But it was spellbinding, just the same. The jury hung on her every word. Christina couldn’t be sure whether they believed her. But they were definitely listening.