He tapped Treya on the shoulder and motioned that she should accompany him. She took his hand in the hallway, and they walked through the lobby and all the way outside to the steps of the Hall – the day was still warm, without any breeze.

'God.' She inhaled with pleasure, her face up to the sun. 'You know what this reminds me of? I had a teacher – Mrs Barile – in junior high in lovely Daly City, where we'd get a day like this about every seventeen years, and I remember one time we did. For just one period, English, this time of day, right after lunch, Mrs Barile she took us all outside and we sat on the grass and she read out loud to us. The shirt scene from Gatsby. You know that one? Where Daisy cries? Anyway…' Treya suddenly looked embarrassed. 'Sorry. I just had that same feeling again. That's not what you wanted.'

'Actually, it's pretty close to exactly what I wanted.' Glitsky felt he could have listened to her all day. They could stand here on the steps of the Hall of Justice and she could tell him all the good feelings she'd ever felt in her life. For the first time in half a decade, he was feeling them himself – a wash of something other than duty, persistence, cold honor. He still didn't trust them entirely, couldn't talk about them. But they were there. Warmth, hope, the future.

He wanted it too badly and this, he believed, would guarantee that it would never last. So he returned to what he could live with, his comfort zone. 'But it's not why I called you out from in there.' He told her he was going to go try and have a talk with somebody, so he wouldn't be around if Hardy decided he was going to call him as a witness.

'This is from your meeting at lunch?'

He nodded, almost smiling. 'I'm happy to report that the unit seems to be falling apart in my absence. Nobody's covering any bases except Paul Thieu and he's on my side. He's getting me copies of the lab stuff and crime scene report on Cullen Alsop. Meanwhile, there's this ex-cop that Ridley thinks might be involved somehow.'

'You saw Ridley Banks? He's OK?'

This erased any sort of animation from Abe's face. 'No. He told this to a guy in narcotics, and Thieu put us together.'

'So who is this person? Did Ridley go see him?'

'No one knows, Trey.'

'But he might have been the appointment he told Diz about.'

'That's what I'm hoping.'

Treya took a half step backwards, crossed her arms over her chest. She spoke with a slow precision. 'That would have been the last time anybody heard from him.'

'That's right.' He knew what she was thinking. It was one of the fundamental moments. You got involved with a policeman, you accepted an elevated level of risk. Some people couldn't do it. Some people found out too late. But sooner or later, it always had to be dealt with.

'What's his name?' she asked.

'Gene Visser.'

Another pause. 'Maybe your friend Paul Thieu could go with you.'

'Then nobody's watching the shop at all. Besides, I haven't even located him yet.' He touched her arm lightly. 'Trey, this is what I do. It's OK. How'd it go with your lunch?'

A shine had risen in her eyes. She spoke again with exaggerated care. 'Please don't change the subject, Abe. What if this man killed Ridley?'

'Then he'd be a complete fool to try anything with me, wouldn't he? The first thing I'll do is tell him everybody knows where I went. I even logged it in.'

'And that will protect you?'

'Well,' he said, 'you know, protection, the whole concept. There's really no such…' He stopped, his eyes suddenly filled with a kind of panic.

'What?'

'Nothing. I think maybe my yeanling didn't agree with me.' He took a heavy breath.

'Abe? Are you all right?'

'Yeah,' he said automatically. 'Just a little…' Another breath. His hand went to his chest. 'I think I'd better sit down.'

In the courtroom, Judge Hill was about to rule on the admissibility of the confession. Hardy had been arguing that they should watch all six hours of interrogation on videotape. He wanted to get to the coercion issue now, before trial.

Torrey objected. 'Your honor, the movies are full of wonderful performances by people who are apparently drunk or high on drugs. We can watch Mr Burgess on tape all day long and still never get to anything approaching proof that he was in fact under the influence of anything. He was never tested for drunkenness. Perhaps, as you say, he was in the early stages of heroin withdrawal-'

Hardy chimed in. 'And as such, your honor, would have said anything, he would have done anything-'

Hill used his gavel. 'Don't interrupt the bench again, counselor. I've read your arguments in motion form. Just because defendant perhaps had motivation to lie does not demonstrate that he did in fact lie. If you have nothing new to add, I'm standing on my ruling. You can take it up again if this hearing results in a trial.'

The bad blood between Hardy and Hill was so thick that Freeman felt compelled to intervene. 'Your honor, if I may approach.'

Hill sighed in frustration. This argument had already been going on for more than a half-hour. He'd made his ruling. And suddenly now the old lion was coming out of his cave. 'All right, Mr Freeman.'

David stood up slowly. As protocol demanded, all four attorneys made thek way to the front. 'Your honor,' Freeman began, 'as you know, we have prepared a brief outlining internal inconsistencies within the alleged confession itself.'

'As you say, counselor, I know that. I have read it.'

'Then, your honor, with all respect, we'd like to object further to the confession on foundational grounds. Who can say if this is a complete, unaltered copy of the tape unless Inspector Banks will testify?'

'Your honor!' Pratt and Torrey, in unison.

Hill held up a peremptory hand and glared at them. 'Mr Freeman, the defense has just been arguing for the better part of an hour that the court should sit through six hours of the defendant's videotaped testimony on the coercion issue. Now you're saying we shouldn't see any of it? Am I getting this right?'

Freeman's calm was unnerving. 'Even if it weren't so fatally flawed,' he said, 'the officer who took the confession isn't available to swear to the tape's authenticity and completeness.'

The prosecution fumed and sputtered. Other officers, including several homicide inspectors, had been around and even in and out of the interrogation room. They could say the tape was accurate. The tape looked full and complete. It was self-authenticating. A technician could say the tape was unedited. Behind them bubbled a cauldron of static. For a second, it seemed that everyone in the courtroom was speaking at once. Then Hill's gavel – bam, bam -cracked through it all like a gunshot and created an equally deafening silence. Hill had had enough. He glowered at all the attorneys, out over them to the crowd beyond the rail. He spoke brusquely. 'The court will take a half-hour recess to consider these and other matters.'

Without another word, he stood and left the room.

'Diz!' Jeff Elliot was wheeling himself furiously up the hallway.

Hardy had his hand on the door to the restroom and stopped. 'What?'

'Did you hear that siren before that last argument?'

'I didn't hear anything.'

'I did. I went out and checked. It was Abe.'

'What was Abe?' Though of course he knew. Uttering an oath of despair, he broke for the lobby at a run.