It was dark inside and Dumpsters overflowed on either side. They ran through trash and frozen garbage. Mary didn't hear footsteps or gunshots behind her. Were they safe? She could see lights at the end of the alley. People!

'Help!' she screamed and so did Paige. The people at the end of the alley looked up, two young men in white uniforms. They were smoking outside the screen door of a restaurant kitchen. Golden light shone through the screen and the aroma of roasting lamb wafted into the night. Mary ran closer and heard voices inside. They were safe! Trevor couldn't shoot them in front of witnesses. She ran flat out, and even Paige put on the afterburners.

'Let us in!' Mary shouted to the uniformed men, but they turned and ran off down the other end of the alley. In the City of Brotherly Love, you're on your own. She ran

straight for the door with Paige, threw open the screen, and darted inside, fumbling for the main door and slamming it closed behind them.

'Quoi?’ said a startled sous-chef, from behind a glistening stainless steel counter, but Mary was bolting the door locked.

'Call nine-one-one!' she called out, but Paige had snatched her cell phone from her handbag and was flipping it open.

Mary sagged against the door, her chest heaving. Relief flooded over her so powerfully it brought tears to her eyes. She was never so happy to see such a scummy metal door. Trevor couldn't shoot through it even if he tried. The kitchen was warm and safe, filled with pungent smells and snotty cooks. She was alive. Paige was alive.

Mary didn't know how she had picked the right alley, but she whispered a silent thanks to anybody who was listening.

48

Jack and Brinkley rushed into the lobby of the office building, and Jack knew from the security guard's terrified expression that she recognized him. A young woman, she seemed to age on the spot.

'I know you two,' she said. She backed away, her hand hovering at the gun holstered to her hip. 'You're that lawyer who killed his wife.' Her frightened eyes shifted to Brinkley. 'And you're that cop who pushed that guard around. I read about you in the newspaper. Either of you give me any trouble, I'll shoot you down.'

'Don't worry,' Jack said, grabbing the edge of the desk. 'We won't hurt you. We won't hurt anyone. We need to see Mary DiNunzio.'

'She's not here.' The guard looked nervously from Jack to Brinkley and back again. 'She's gone.'

'When?'

'None of your business.'

'She may be in danger. Tell me when she left.'

The guard got more nervous. 'About ten minutes ago. What kind of danger?'

Brinkley was already backing up to go. 'Was she alone? Or was she with a young girl?'

'A girl. They left together.'

'You know where they went?' Jack asked, heading out with Brinkley.

'No, and if I did, I wouldn't tell either of you. That's for damn sure.'

49

It wasn't long before three squad cars arrived at the restaurant kitchen and Mary gave the cops a brief statement, then insisted on Paige and her being taken down to the Roundhouse. Mary wanted to see Captain Walsh and bring the whole case to light. En route she called Jack on Paige's cell phone, at the hotel number he'd left on Paige's answering machine. She couldn't reach him but left a message telling him to meet them at Captain Walsh's office. This time she didn't care how she looked. Okay, maybe she did.

She pressed the END button, stumped. She wasn't sure she should go to Walsh without Jack, but they were in the back of the squad car. She couldn't wait any longer anyway. Trevor was trying to kill her and Paige. She let the cruiser whisk them to the Roundhouse, where she was ushered in to see Captain Walsh for the second time that day. He greeted her with 'long time, no see,' and their meeting went downhill from there. She'd told him the whole story, from Paige's drugged memories to Trevor shooting at them, but he wasn't having any.

'Look,' Captain Walsh said, from behind his bare desk. He looked more exasperated than he had earlier that day, if that were possible. 'We'll do for you what we'd do for anybody, Ms DiNunzio. Somebody chases you down the street with a gun, that's attempted murder, and we're on it.'

'Not somebody. It was Trevor.'

'You're not listening.' Captain Walsh looked at Mary, his dark eyes frank and concerned. 'We'll investigate, question witnesses, canvass the neighborhood, and see if anybody

saw anything. We'll tell you as soon as we know anything about the shooter.'

'But it was Trevor. It had to be.'

'How the hell do you know? The shooter was wearing a ski mask, you said.'

'Who else would it be? It's not like he tried to rob us. It was target practice, for God's sake. Right out in the open.'

'Like I said, we're on it, but that's no proof it was Olanski. You know how many knuckleheads run around this city with guns? Did you see the last amnesty day? They turned in enough weapons to arm a small country.'

'But he was shooting at us. It was directed, not random.'

'We get that once a month. Guy takes a shot for no reason, drunk or high. In summer, it's the fish and gun club. Last week we had a guy, you must've read about it, takin' shots at people he thinks are Hispanic. We got him on ethnic intimidation.'

'This wasn't a hate crime, take my word,' Mary said angrily, and the captain's eyes hardened.

'I took your word once already, Ms DiNunzio, when you told me Paige here killed her mother. But she didn't. Now you're tellin' me the boyfriend did it and she just thought she did it.' Walsh hunched over the desk, his shoulders powerful beneath his shirt, which had lost its starch. 'How the hell do you expect me to believe you? You can't tell a straight story one minute to the next. You think this is some kind of game?'

Mary took it on the chin. 'Look, I was wrong, I'm sorry. I thought Paige knew the truth, but she didn't. Now she does. We both do.'

Paige raised a hand like a schoolgirl. 'Captain, it was Trevor. He had a body like Trevor. The way he ran was like Trevor, too. I've seen him play lacrosse.'

'Thank you, Ms Newlin, but we can't rely on that. This is what I have to go on.' The captain held up the police

incident reports, shaped like common traffic tickets. 'All it says here is that the shooter was around six feet tall. We don't know if he was white or black. We don't even know if he is a he or a she. I can't pick up anybody because he plays lacrosse.'

'Why not?' Mary broke in. 'Not to arrest, just to question/

'Ms DiNunzio, you of all people should know that. You're a criminal lawyer, right?'

'Of course.' Mary figured she qualified by now. Not only had she studied, she'd been shot at.

'This kid has one of the highest-priced lawyers in the city, after you. The lawyer got him bail when they had him redhanded, pushing powder. You think he's gonna let me talk to the boy on this evidence? No way.'

'You won't even try? He just tried to kill us. He did kill her mother.'

Walsh's gaze shifted from Mary to Paige and back again. 'With respect, we have the man who we believe committed that crime. He's Jack Newlin and he's going to trial for it.'

'He didn't do it!' Mary cried, fighting the urge to pound the desk. She was in danger, Paige was in danger, and it was all her fault. 'He'll explain it to you. I phoned him and he should be here any minute.'

'Well, he isn't, and I have real work to do.' Walsh squared the incident reports at the corners. 'I think we've talked enough for one day, Ms DiNunzio.'

'You won't wait?'

'No.' Walsh stood up behind his desk. Thank you very much for your time. It's always a pleasure to talk with you. You have any more theories, feel free to call.'

'Are we being thrown out?'