The progression and conclusion pleased him enough that he paused to jot them down on a pad on his desk.

"The system is in place to mark boundaries, to draw a firm line and hold the people to it," he said. "There is no room for exceptions. You believe that, Deputy Broussard, or you would never have gone into law enforcement-isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that's been established, and I've already given my statement to-"

"Yes, you have, and I have a copy right here." He tapped his pen against a file folder. "But I feel it's important for us to get to know each other, Annie. May I call you Annie?"

"Look, I have a job-"

"I understand you've been having some difficulties with other members of the department," he said with fatherly concern as he perched a hip on a corner of his desk.

Annie shot a glance at A.J. "Nothing I can't handle-"

"Is someone trying to coerce you? Dissuade you from testifying against Detective Fourcade?"

"Not in so many wor-"

"While a certain reticence on your part would be understandable here, Annie, I want to impress upon you the necessity and the importance of your testimony in this matter."

"Yes, sir. I'm aware of that, sir. I-"

"Has Detective Fourcade himself approached you?"

"Detective Fourcade has made no attempt to keep me from testifying. I-"

"And Sheriff Noblier? Has he instructed you in any way?"

"I don't know what you mean," Annie said, holding herself stiff against the urge to squirm.

"He's been less than cooperative in this matter. Which is a sad commentary on the effects of his tenure in office, I'm afraid. Gus thinks this parish is his little kingdom and he can make up the rules to suit himself, but that isn't so. The law is the law and it applies to everyone-detectives, sheriff's, deputies."

"Yes, sir."

He stepped around behind the desk and slid into his leather chair. Slipping on a pair of steel-rimmed reading glasses, he pulled her statement from the folder and glanced over it.

"Now, Annie, you were off duty that night, but A.J. tells me your personal vehicle is equipped with a police scanner and a radio, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"He tells me the two of you had a pleasant dinner at Isabeau's that evening." He glanced up at her with another indulgent, fatherly smile. "A very romantic setting. My wife's personal favorite."

Annie said nothing. She thought she could feel A.J.'s stare burning into her. While it seemed he had told Pritchett everything else about their relationship, he hadn't told him it was over. Pritchett was trying to use it as leverage to shift her loyalties. Slimy lawyer.

"Where'd you go after dinner, Annie?"

She had managed to avoid this part of the story so far. It wasn't relevant to the incident-except that Fourcade had taken a phone call and then left the bar, which might have suggested premeditation to say nothing of collusion with someone. But no one else had been beating on Renard, and Fourcade couldn't be compelled to reveal the source or the content of the call, so what was the use of talking about it?

On the other hand, there were witnesses who could place her at Laveau's.

"I saw Detective Fourcade's truck across the street at Laveau's. I went to have a few words with him about what had happened at the courthouse."

Pritchett looked at A.J., clearly unhappy at being taken by surprise.

"Why wasn't this in your statement, Deputy?"

"Because it preceded the incident and had no bearing on it."

"What condition was Fourcade in?"

"He'd been drinking."

"Was he aggressive, angry, antagonistic?"

"No, sir, he was… unhappy, morose, philosophical."

"Did he speak about Renard? Threaten him?"

"No. He talked about justice and injustice." And shadows and ghosts.

"Did he give any indication he was going to seek Renard out?"

"No."

Pritchett pulled his glasses off and nibbled thoughtfully on an earpiece. "What happened next?"

"We went our separate ways. I decided to stop at the Quik Pik for a few things. The rest is in my report and in the statement I gave Chief Earl."

"Did you at any time pick up a call on your scanner regarding a suspected prowler in the vicinity of Bowen and Briggs?"

"No, sir, but I was out of the vehicle for several minutes, and then I had the regular radio on for a while and the scanner turned down. I was off duty, it was late."

Silence hung like dust motes in the air. Annie picked at a broken cuticle and waited. Pritchett's chair squeaked as he rose.

"Do you believe there was a call, Deputy?"

If he asked her this question in court, Fourcade's attorney would object before the whole sentence was out of his mouth. Calls for speculation. But they weren't in court. The only person in the room who objected was Annie.

"I didn't hear the call," she said. "Other people did."

"Other people say they did," he corrected her. His voice rose with every syllable. He bent over and planted his hands on the arms of Annie's chair, his face inches from hers. "Because Gus Noblier told them to say that they did. Because they want to protect a man who blew a major case, then took it upon himself to execute the suspect he couldn't out-smart!

"There was no call," he said softly, pushing himself back. He sat against the desk again, his eyes on her every second. "Did you arrest Fourcade that night and take him into custody?"

What difference did it make when the arrest had been made? What would it change? Fourcade was up on charges. Pritchett was simply looking for ammunition to use against Noblier, and Annie wanted no part of that feud.

She called up the words the sheriff himself had put in her mouth. "I stumbled across a situation I didn't understand. I contained it. We went to the station to sort it out."

"Why does Richard Kudrow claim he saw an arrest report that subsequently went missing?"

"Because he's a stinking weasel lawyer and he loves nothing better than to stir the pot." She looked Pritchett in the eye. "Why would you believe him? He lives to tie you up in knots in the courtroom. You can bet he's loving this- you and Noblier at each other's throats with cops in the middle."

A small measure of satisfaction warmed her as she watched her strategy work. Pritchett pressed his lips together and moved away from the desk. The last thing he would want in the world would be having Richard Kudrow play him for a fool.

"How well do you know Nick Fourcade, Annie?" he asked, the driving force gone from his voice.

She thought of the night spent in Nick's arms, their bodies locked together. "Not very."

"He doesn't deserve your loyalty. And he sure as hell doesn't deserve a badge. You're a good officer, Annie. I've seen your record. And you did a good thing that night. I'm gonna trust you to do the right thing when you get up on the witness stand next week."

"Yes, sir," she murmured.

He checked his Rolex and turned to A.J. "I'm needed elsewhere. A.J., would you show Annie out?"

"Of course."

She started to get up, intending to leave on Pritchett's heels, but the door shut too quickly after him.

"He's late for his tee time," A.J. said, not moving from the bookcase. "Why are you lying to us, Annie?"

She flinched as if he'd spat the words in her face. "I'm not-"

"Don't insult me," he snapped. "On top of everything else, don't insult me. I know you, Annie. I know everything about you. Everything. That scares you, doesn't it? That's why you're pushing me away."

"I don't think this is the time or place for this conversation," she muttered.

"You don't want anyone getting that deep in your soul, do you? 'Cause what if I leave or die like your mother-"

"Stop it!" Annie ordered, furious that he would use the most painful memories of her childhood against her.