She stood up and stretched, theatrically. "Well, we made a lot of progress today," she said, though she had no idea if they'd made progress or not. "I guess it's closing time."

"I thought we were scheduled until six o'clock, and we're in the middle of this-"

"I'm sorry, I thought five o'clock, and with the snow, we should end a little early, don't you think? It was great meeting you." Vicki extended a firm hand across the table, focusing on Agent Pizer for the first time. She was attractive, with her brunette hair cut chin length, and a warm smile. It would've been great meeting her. "Next time, let's have lunch."

"Sure, and I guess we can knock off now." Agent Pizer seemed relieved to slide her jacket from the chair next to her.

"You're right about the snow, and it is Sunday, after all."

"Yes, day of rest and all that. And look at the conference table." Vicki gestured to the clutter. "It's a mess, which means we worked very hard."

Agent Pizer laughed. "I knew you'd be funny. Morty really thought the world of you."

"Really?" Vicki asked, surprised. Neither of them had mentioned him until this minute. "He wasn't the type to get mushy."

"I know, it wasn't his style. But he told all of us about you, and he seemed so happy since you two were working together, this past year."

"Thanks." Vicki swallowed the lump in her throat. "Let me walk you out." They left the conference room and went down the hall to reception, and Vicki looked back as they passed Dan's office. He was on the phone, but perked up and caught her eye.

"Vicki?" he called out, covering the receiver with a hand.

"Gimme five minutes," she called back, almost like the old days.

But she knew those days could be gone forever, after they had their next conversation.

FORTY-FOUR

Vicki went back to Dan's office, walked in, and closed the door behind her, just as he was hanging up. He stood up at his desk, his expression soft and a little sheepish. He looked handsome, unshaven, and regretful in his jeans and navy crewneck, which had to be fusing with his skin by now.

Vicki tabled her feelings. She didn't have time for them. "We have to talk."

Dan put up a hand. "I know, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He smiled crookedly. "Did I mention I was sorry?"

Vicki felt a tug. "It's not about us. It's more important than us."

"Nothing is more important than us." Dan smiled, cautiously. "Except maybe giving Zoe her meds in the morning."

"I remembered."

"God, I do love you," Dan said, with meaning, and as touched as she felt, she set the plea agreement on top of the papers on his desk.

"What's this?"

"You tell me." Vicki sat down as he slid the plea agreement toward him and took his seat, reading it. She wished he would hurry. Night was falling outside the window to his left, a transparent wash of blue, too thin to mirror his office, which was neat, as usual. Books and treatises stood at attention on shelves, and accordion files sat in alphabetical order on the credenza, next to a Nerf football spray-painted gold, a worn baseball glove, and the Leaning Tower of Baseball Caps, standard-issue for every boy AUSA.

"It looks like a plea agreement in U.S. v. Montgomery," Dan answered, glancing at the papers.

"Your case."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't." Dan smiled. "Is this a game?"

"You signed the plea agreement."

"No, I didn't."

Vicki blinked. "Look at the signature page."

Dan turned to the back of the agreement and read the signature page. "Huh. I didn't sign this."

"It's not your signature? It looks like it."

"I know." Dan shook his head, mystified. "I see what you mean. It does look like my signature, but I didn't sign it. I don't remember this case."

"It's only eight months ago, or so."

"Yes, so I would remember it, and I don't. David Montgomery? Don't know the name, and I'd never give him that easy a deal." Dan eyed the signature again. "Somebody must have forged my name."

"A forgery?" Vicki felt her mouth drop open. She just assumed a signature in this office was a valid signature, but maybe she was being naïve. The only alternative was that Dan was lying, and she couldn't bring herself to conclude that, not yet.

"It has to be a forgery, because I didn't sign it."

Vicki considered the possibility. "If it's a forgery, it explains a lot. But who would forge your name, and why?"

"I don't know." Dan looked at the agreement again, then held it up to the lamp on his desk, a halogen light with a black metal shade.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know, trying to see something. A watermark, a fingerprint, I don't know. This is weird." Dan lowered the document, still examining the last page. "Strauss and Bale signed it, too. This looks like their signatures, but maybe they're forged, too."

"Three forged signatures?"

"If you'll forge one, you'll forge three."

"But that's crazy," Vicki said, nonplussed. "Who would do that?"

"I don't know. I can't explain this, babe."

Vicki couldn't either. "Maybe it was your case, and you've forgotten? You were on trial at the time, in Morales, the heroin distribution case." She had figured this out during her ATF meeting. "Maybe you were so preoccupied, you don't remember the deal, or signing it."

"Let me think a minute." Dan frowned deeply. "No, I swear, I don't remember this case at all. I didn't work this case. You have the file?"

Vicki slid it across the table, and Dan thumbed through it, reading.

"This is old CP stuff. Common Pleas. Nothing from the federal case."

"I know. I assumed you had the rest of it, the indictment and the grand jury transcripts."

"I don't. It's not my case. Where'd you get this?"

"The To Be Filed bin, on the very bottom. Buried."

Dan returned to reading the file. "Hmmm. Looks like Mr. Montgomery's been a bad boy. He lucked out with this deal, big-time. Who's his lawyer, Clarence Darrow?"

Vicki felt too confused to laugh, and Dan kept reading and commenting.

"A public defender. Uh oh, they're gaining on us."

"Dan, it's not funny."

"Tell me about it. It's my name on those papers, and I'm a better prosecutor than that."

Vicki didn't know what to think, and Dan met her eyes with his usual blue frankness.

"What do you want me to say, babe?"

"The truth. I want you to tell me the truth."

"I'll ignore the insult. I'm telling you the truth." Dan stiffened, hurt. "Now what's going on?"

"I think that Montgomery killed Reheema's mother. He lives on the same block as the Bethave family, he's a hired killer who was free when she was murdered, and his nick-name's Kermit, I bet because his voice is froggy."

Dan's expression grew as serious as she had ever seen him.

"What?" Vicki asked.

"I should've known, this is about Reheema. I thought it was something from your meeting with the ATF agent, but it's not." Dan looked suddenly sad, his strong shoulders sloping. "I should have known."

"If what you're saying is true, someone forged your name, and Bale's and Strauss's, unless they signed it. Aren't you concerned about that?" Vicki leaned forward. "A minute ago, before you knew why I was asking, you looked very concerned."

"Yes, it's a bad thing. I was concerned, I am concerned. Somebody signed my name on some papers, and we'll look into it tomorrow." Dan sighed. "But that doesn't mean that Montgomery killed Reheema's mother. You didn't find any killer, just because somebody forged my name on papers about his case. It's not logical. It doesn't follow."

"How can you be certain he's not the killer?"

"How can you be certain he is?" Dan raised his voice, and Vicki stood up, taking the file and plea agreement from his desk.