Chapter 5

The trial was adjourned for the day an hour later. Judge Miller called it without explanation, gathered her robes, and disappeared into chambers, leaving the gallery to filter out in a stunned shuffle. Clara sat at the plaintiff's table until the room was empty. Julian was gone—removed, she was told, and not permitted to return until the next session. Eleanor had followed him out, her face as white as her blouse.

Clara folded the note back into the velvet box, tucked it into her purse, and stood. The coat felt heavier on her shoulders than it had that morning.

"Ms. Vasquez."

She turned. Ralph Burgess was standing in the aisle, the file folder still in his hand. He looked the way a man looks when he has just told the worst truth of his life and is waiting to see what it costs him.

"I want to apologize," he said. "Not the official kind—I already said that in there. I want to apologize to you, directly, for what I did."

Clara looked at him. "You used me."

"Yes."

"You didn't tell me the wire was dead."

"I didn't know it was dead until afterward." He swallowed. "But I should have checked it. I should have checked everything. I was so convinced I could crack the case that I stopped thinking about what it was costing you."

Clara was quiet for a moment. "Do you know what I remember most about that night?"