With trepidation and just about every neuron in his brain associated with feeling guilty firing, Jack speed-dialed Laurie's cell phone.

"It's about time!" Laurie said curtly.

Jack winced. Her greeting was 180 degrees from the night before, heralding the kind of conversation he feared.

"It's almost ten o'clock!" Laurie complained. "Why haven't you called? It's been eight hours since your cowardly message on my voicemail."

"I'm sorry," Jack said as contritely as he could. "It's been a rather strange evening."

Although such a comment was a deliberate understatement, it was hardly the kind of sarcastic humor that Jack was capable of. He was making a conscious effort to resist the tendency that had become reflex with his devil-may-care approach to life after his family tragedy. Being careful with his vocabulary and as succinctly as possible, Jack told Laurie about the break-in, the terrorizing of the children, and the visit by the police made possible by Lou's timely intercession. Jack then told her about Tony Fasano and his threat, as well as about Franco, including the previous day's episode, which he had not mentioned to her the evening before.

"This is incredible!" Laurie said after a pause. Most of the anger had gone out of her voice. "Are you all right?"

"I've got a swollen lip and a few busted capillaries over a cheekbone, but I've had worse from basketball. I'm okay."

"I'm nervous about this Franco. He sounds like a lunatic."

"He's been on my mind as well," Jack said. He thought about mentioning the gun but decided it might make her more nervous.

"I'm gathering you believe Tony Fasano is behind the episode with the children."

Jack repeated some of the conversation he'd had with Liam Flanagan.

"How are the children?"

"They seem remarkably poised, considering what they've been through. Maybe it has something to do with their mother being a psychologist. Alexis is terrific with them. She took them to their grandparents', Craig's parents', for a few days. To give you an idea, the littlest one was together enough to empathize with me about my kids when they were saying good-bye. It took me completely by surprise."

"She sounds precociously self-possessed," Laurie said. "That's a blessing for the Bowmans. Now, let's talk about us. What's the bottom line about you coming back here?"

"Worst case is tomorrow evening," Jack said. "I'll do the autopsy write up the results, whatever they turn out to be, and give them to Craig's lawyer. Even if I wanted to, he doesn't think he could get me on the stand as a witness, so that's not an issue."

"You are cutting this mighty close," Laurie said. "If I end up being the bride left at the altar, I'll never forgive you. I just want you to know that."

"I said worst case. Maybe I'll be there in the middle of the afternoon."

"Promise me you're not going to do anything foolish."

Jack could think of a lot of great retorts for that setup, but he resisted. Instead, he said, "I'll be careful." Then he added, to make her even more comfortable, "The Newton police have promised extra surveillance."

Confident Laurie was reasonably assuaged, Jack extended some appropriate endearments and then said good-bye. He then made two other quick calls. He spoke briefly to Lou to explain what had happened with Liam Flanagan and to thank him for his help. He told him he'd see him at the church on Friday. Next, he called Warren and told him that not only was David a good b-ball player, but he'd also saved Jack's ass. Jack had to hold the phone away from his ear when Warren responded. Jack told him he'd see him at the church also.

With all his calls out of the way, Jack once again took in the peaceful scene. The concave snippet of moon had moved a little higher in the sky and had cleared the black silhouettes of the trees. A few stars even twinkled in the sky despite the general nighttime glow sent heavenward from the entire Boston metropolitan area. Jack took in a big lungful of the cool, fresh air. It was bracing. In the distance, a dog barked. The serenity made him wonder what the morrow would bring. Would there be violence at the exhumation? He didn't know, but the thought made him glad Liam had insisted he keep the gun. He patted it in his pocket. Its weighty solidness made him feel more secure, even though he knew statistics suggested the opposite. With a sense of fatalism that whatever was going to happen would happen no matter what he did, Jack shrugged, turned, and headed into the house.

Without Alexis and the children at home, Jack felt somewhat like an intruder. After he closed the front door, the silence of the house was almost palpable, even though he could hear Craig's and Randolph 's muffled voices from the library. He walked into the great room and went to the refrigerator. There were plenty of fixings, and he quickly made a sandwich. He popped open a beer and took both over to the couch. Careful to keep the sound low, he turned on the TV, and after rapidly scanning the channels, he found a news broadcast. Still feeling like a stranger in a strange land, he sat back and ate.

By the time he had finished the food and most of the beer, he heard raised voices coming from the library. It was obviously a disagreement. Jack quickly turned up the TV to keep from hearing. It made him feel similar to when he'd almost been caught snooping into Craig's doctor's bag. A few minutes later, the front door to the house slammed hard enough for Jack to feel the vibration. A few minutes after that, Craig came into the great room. It was apparent he was fuming from the way he acted, particularly the way he threw ice cubes into an old-fashioned glass and slammed shut the glass-front cabinet door. He helped himself to a healthy dollop of scotch, then brought the drink and bottle over to the couch.

"Do you mind?" Craig asked, motioning to the couch where Jack was sitting.

"Not at all," Jack said, wondering why he bothered to ask. Jack moved closer to the opposite end. He turned off the TV and twisted around to face his host, who'd plopped down, still holding both bottle and glass.

Craig took a large slug of his scotch and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing. He was staring into the empty fireplace.

"How did the rehearsal go?" Jack asked. He felt obligated to try to have a conversation.

Craig merely laughed scornfully.

"Do you feel prepared?" Jack persisted.

"I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be. But that's not saying a whole bunch."

"What was Randolph 's advice?"

Craig forced another laugh. "You know, the usual. I'm not supposed to pick my nose, fart too loudly, or laugh at the judge."

"I'm serious," Jack said. "I'd like to know."

Craig regarded Jack. A bit of the tenseness that had been so apparent drained from his face. "The usual admonitions like I mentioned at lunch and maybe a few more. I'm supposed to avoid stuttering and inappropriate laughter. Can you believe that? Tony Fasano is going to verbally attack me, and I'm supposed to calmly let it happen. If anything, I'm supposed to look hurt and not angry so the jury will sympathize with me. Can you imagine?"

"I think it sounds reasonable."

Craig's eyes narrowed as he looked at Jack. "Maybe to you, but not to me."

"I couldn't help but hear raised voices. I mean, I couldn't hear what it was about. Did you and Randolph disagree on something?"

"Not really," Craig said. "He just pissed me off. Of course, that was what he was trying to do. He was play-acting as if he were Fasano. You see the problem is that when I'm on the stand, I'm sworn, whereas Tony Fasano won't be. That means he can make up and say whatever allegation he wants, and I'm supposed to have thick skin, but I don't. I even got mad at Randolph. I'm hopeless."