“It made me think about Jared,” he said, and her hand stopped moving of its own accord. Jared, the boy he had thought of as a sort of nephew all these years, only to find out recently that he was actually a son.

He said, “I remember when he was little, I’d throw him up in the air and catch him. God, he loved that. He’d laugh so hard he’d get the hiccups.”

“I’m sure Nell wanted to kill you,” Sara said, thinking Jared’s mother had probably held her breath the entire time.

“I could feel his ribs pressing against my hands when I caught him. He’s got such a great laugh. He loved being up in the air.” He gave a half-smile, thinking out loud, “Maybe he’ll be a pilot one day.”

They walked, both of them silent, their footsteps and the jingle of the dogs’ metal ID tags the only sound. Sara pressed her head against Jeffrey’s shoulder, wanting more than anything to just be there in the moment. He tightened his arm around her, and she looked at the dogs, wondering what it would feel like to be pushing a stroller instead of holding on to a leash.

At the age of six, Sara had quite conceitedly told her mother that one day she would have two children, a boy and a girl, and that the boy would have blond hair and the girl would have brown. Cathy had teased her about this early show of single-mindedness well into Sara’s twenties. Through college, then medical school, then finally her internship, it had been a long-standing family joke, especially considering the fact that Sara’s dating life was sparse to say the least. They had mocked her relentlessly about her precociousness for years, then the teasing had abruptly stopped. At twenty-six, Sara had lost her ability to ever have a child. At twenty-six, she had lost her childhood belief that just wanting something badly enough made it possible.

Walking along the street, her head on Jeffrey’s shoulder, Sara let herself play that dangerous game, the one where she wondered what their children would have looked like. Jared had Jeffrey’s dark coloring, his mother’s intense blue eyes. Would their baby have red hair, a shock of auburn that grew like springs? Or would he have Jeffrey’s black, almost blue, mane, thick and wavy, the sort of hair you couldn’t stop running your fingers through? Would he be kind and gentle like his father, growing into the sort of man who would one day make some woman happier than she’d ever thought she could possibly be?

Jeffrey’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath and let it go.

Sara wiped her eyes, hoping he didn’t see how silly she was being. She asked, “How’s Lena?”

“I gave her the day off.” Jeffrey rubbed his eyes, too, but she couldn’t look up at him. “She deserves a medal for finally following orders.”

“The first time is always special.”

He acknowledged the joke with a wry chuckle. “God, she’s such a mess.”

She squeezed her arm around his waist, thinking that the two of them weren’t in much better shape themselves. “You know you can’t straighten her out, right?”

He gave another heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

She looked up at him, saw that his eyes were as moist as hers.

After a few seconds, he clicked his tongue at Billy, getting him back on the road. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” she echoed.

He cleared his throat several times before he could tell her, “Paul’s lawyer should be here around noon today.”

“Where’s he coming from?”

“ Atlanta,” Jeffrey said, all his disgust for the city resting on that one word.

Sara sniffed, trying to get her composure back. “Do you really think Paul Ward is going to confess to anything?”

“No,” he admitted, tugging on Billy’s leash as the dog stopped to investigate some weeds. “He shut his mouth as soon as we pulled Terri off him.”

Sara paused, thinking about the woman’s sacrifice. “Do you think the charges will stick?”

“The attempted kidnapping and shooting we’ve got down easy,” he answered. “You can’t argue with two cops as witnesses.” He shook his head. “Who knows which way it’ll go? I sure as shit could argue premeditated; I was right there. There’s no telling with a jury…” He let his voice trail off. “Your shoe’s untied.” He handed her Billy’s leash and knelt in front of her to tie the lace. “They’ve got him for murder during the commission of a felony, attempted murder with Lena. There has to be something in there that keeps him behind bars for a long time.”

“And Abby?” Sara asked, watching his hands. She remembered the first time he had tied her shoe for her. They had been in the woods, and she hadn’t been sure how she felt about him until that very moment when he had knelt down in front of her. Watching him now, all she could wonder was how she had ever not known how much she needed him in her life.

“Get back,” Jeffrey shooed Billy and Bob as the dogs tried to catch the moving laces. Jeffrey finished the double knot, then straightened, taking the leash. “I don’t know about Abby. Terri’s evidence put the cyanide in his hands, but she’s not here to tell the tale. Dale’s not exactly gonna brag about how he told Paul to use the salts.” He put his arm back around her waist, pulling her closer as they continued walking. “Rebecca’s shaky. Esther told me I could talk to her tomorrow.”

“Do you think she’ll give you anything useful?”

“No,” he admitted. “All she can say is that she found some papers Abby left. Hell, she can’t even say for sure whether or not Abby left them. She didn’t hear what happened with Terri because she was in the closet the whole time and she can’t testify about the burials because it’s hearsay. Even if a judge let it in, Cole was the one who put the girls in the boxes. Paul kept his hands clean.” He admitted, “He covered his tracks pretty well.”

Sara said, “I don’t imagine even a slick lawyer from Atlanta will be able to put a good spin on the fact that his client’s entire family is willing to testify against him.” Oddly, that was the real threat to Paul Ward. Not only had he forged his family’s signatures on the policies, he had cashed checks written out to them and pocketed the money. The fraud alone could keep him in prison until he was an old man.

“His secretary’s recanted, too,” Jeffrey told her. “She says Paul didn’t work late that night after all.”

“What about the people on the farm who died? The workers Paul had policies on.”

“Could be they just died and Paul lucked out,” he said, though she knew he didn’t believe that. Even if he wanted to prosecute, there was nothing Jeffrey could do to find any evidence of foul play. The nine bodies had been cremated and their families- if they had any- had given up on them long ago.

He told her, “Cole’s murder is the same story. There weren’t any prints but his on the coffee jar. Paul’s fingerprints were in the apartment, but so were everybody else’s.”

“I think Cole got his own justice,” she said, aware that she was being harsh. In her years before Jeffrey, Sara had had the luxury of seeing the law in very black-and-white terms. She had trusted the courts to do their jobs, jurors to take their oaths seriously. Living with a cop had made her do a sharp about-face.

“You did a good job,” she told him.

“I’ll feel like that’s true when Paul Ward’s sitting on death row.”

Sara would rather see the man live out the rest of his natural life behind bars, but she wasn’t about to start a death penalty discussion with Jeffrey. This was the one thing that he couldn’t change her mind on, no matter how hard he tried.

They had reached the Linton house, and Sara saw her father kneeling in front of her mother’s white Buick. He was washing the car, using a toothbrush to clean out the spokes on the tire rims.

“Hey, Daddy,” Sara said, kissing the top of his head.

“Your mother was out at that farm,” Eddie grumbled, dipping the toothbrush into some soapy water. He was obviously bothered that Cathy had paid her old boyfriend a visit, but had decided to take it out on the car instead. “I told her to take my truck, but does she ever listen to me?”