That was Red's attempt to get me to stop cursing out my mother for making me come all the way across town for absolutely no reason. As we sat in our booth at Spades, I fumed just thinking about the fact that her water didn't break at all. Part of me thought she set it up, so I could be home to receive the damn summons.

Of course, Red disagreed.

"I don't think so, Mase. Why would your mother do something like that?"

I looked at him in disbelief. "Red, I can't put anything past her at this point. And how can you sit over there and try to defend her? This is the same woman that's hiding a fugitive and keeping Alex in jail. It's because of her that a family's life is being turned upside down. And with no remorse. She's horrible, man."

"She's not horrible. She's doing what she's gotta do. To protect herself."

"At my expense, though? I've been called by the prosecution to testify against Alex. She has the power to stop all of that. What kind of mother does that to a son?"

"I don't know, Mase. Maybe she feels like you're a grown man and that you can handle stuff. Maybe she knows you can, and thinks that you should understand that her baby can't. Maybe she feels like saying stuff against Sheldon would make it hard for her baby."

I looked across at Red with a scowl, before taking a swig of my Red Stripe. I hated it when what he said made sense, because, sometimes, he didn't know it did. But it did this time. He had a point. The shit was still fucked up, but I understood what he was saying.

"Red, if that's the case, and she's protecting her child, at her other child's expense, then when and if I do testify—because I haven't decided whether I am or not—I'm showing her no loyalty. At all. I'm going to get up there and say whatever I need to do for Alex to come the fuck home."

"Me, too." Red waved for the waiter to come over to clear his tray of ravaged chicken bones. I swear, they weren't even in front of him for more than ten minutes. Insane. 

"I just worry about Starlet," he continued. "I want Alex to come home, so A.J. will know him growing up. And now that she's pregnant again—"

I interrupted him with a loud laugh. "What? Get out. Big Bones is knocked up?" I looked around in a mocking manner. "Are we sure it's Alex's kid?"

Red didn't smile with me. "Come on, Mase. It's definitely Alex's baby. That's why I worry. I want Starlet to be OK. And not just because of the food she makes me, but because I know how hard it is to grow up without a father. I don't want that for her and her kids."

"I feel you, man. That's why we have to do whatever we can to get Alex off. Say and do whatever we need to do."

"I know, Mase. I know." The waiter brought more wings to the table. As Red went through his ritual of inhaling as much of the 'Spade-hot' sauce as he could stand before commencing to eat, that's when I noticed the small backpack sitting next to him in the booth.

"Red, what the fuck is that? You have an overnight trip planned I don't know about?"

"What, this?" Red said, pointing at the bag. "Nah, no overnight trip. In fact, I probably need to get home soon. To prepare."

"Prepare for what?" I asked, giving Red the side-eye. "What's going on? What's in the bag?"

"Well," Red began, somewhat hesitant. "A few weeks ago, I received some mail. And wasn't sure who to tell about it. So I didn't tell anyone." He licked his fingers from the sauce before unzipping the bag and pulling out a pile of papers and placing them on the table.

I picked them up and was speechless as I began to read the first page.

"I kept them, Mase," Red went on. "I read them, and then put them away, not sure what to do with them. I haven't even told Jean about them."

"Red, are you crazy? You know what you need to do with these. This shit could be gold. You need to get these to Alex's lawyer right now! This shit could change everything!"

"You think so?"

"Hell, yes, I think so!" I threw money on the table and jumped up and headed toward the exit. I couldn't wait to get what looked like some sort of diary with Sheldon's name on it to the lawyers. Without even reading what was inside, it couldn't be anything to help the bastard. And that's all I needed to know.

Whomever sent this to Red knew what they were doing. They must've known that sending it to me or Yanni would've meant a manhunt and a fucking scalping for my mother's baby daddy.

I was halfway to the exit when I looked back to see Red still sitting at the table. "Red, you coming or what?"

Red looked up from his plate and put his hands in the air. "What, I can't finish my wings first?"

This guy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Alex, we’re going to have to use our hold card. We don’t have a choice.”

“Yanni, we do have a choice. We reveal that and who knows what kind of damage it could do to Mase.”

“Mason is a big boy. And, hell, it’s not like his mother isn’t known for keeping secrets and telling lies.”

“I don’t want him to feel like he’s being pulled in two directions. This shouldn’t be a test of loyalty.”

I bit my bottom lip and glared at Alex. “You don’t get it, do you? This is your life that’s hanging in the balance. I don’t give a damn what kind of conflict this causes Mason.”

“Sheldon killed my wife behind this secret.” Alex glanced at me, his expression sullen and strained. “The woman aborted her child, and my child was murdered because of it.”

“I understand that. And that’s what we need to concentrate on.” I grabbed his hands and looked him dead in the eyes. “We all care about Mason, but he’s grown—he’ll get past whatever feelings he has for Carla. But we cannot continue to hurt you for her. It has to end somewhere.”

Alex nodded.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “So, it’s a done deal?”

“Yeah, it’s a done deal. But do everything you can to get her to give Sheldon up, before you go to Mason.”

“I promise. I’ll do everything.”

“I bet you will,” Alex said, smiling. “So, how’s Mase holding up?”

“We’re talking about Mason. Once he found out she had simply lost her plug, he decided to meet Red at Spades.”

Alex burst into laughter. “That dude cracks me up without trying.”

“Yeah, but you know the minute she goes into labor, it’s going to be on.”

“Well, try to take it easy on her. We don’t need her going into labor, just as she’s about to tell us where Sheldon’s hiding.”

“I got this,” I said, winking at Alex.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Minutes later, I climbed into my car and dialed Carla’s number.

“Yanni, I didn’t expect to hear from you again so soon,” Carla cooed.

“It’s always when you least expect it, Carla.”

She chuckled. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering if I could stop by for a minute. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“There’s no time like the present,” she said, mimicking an earlier conversation.

I closed the door and opened the subpoena. I knew it was coming, but I didn't expect it to be from the prosecution.

At all.

"What else did she say?" I asked Yanni after she collapsed her cell phone.

"She said that the prosecutor called her as a witness, which is very odd."

I snickered.

"What's so funny?"

I slowed down at the red light and looked in Yanni's direction. "Think about it. When your little girl was a renegade, who was she down with? Sheldon. And it wasn't that long ago, mind you. So maybe the prosecutor knows something we don't about Terry."

"No," she snapped. "I can't believe that. Whatever dealings she had with Sheldon was long before anything that happened with Alex."

"And?"

"And, that means there's nothing she could supply the prosecution that would hurt Alex."

"We hope . . ."

"Fuck that, Mase. I know my daughter. She's one of us."

I didn't even respond to that. Yanni sat there, shaking her head, not wanting to believe her daughter was anything but righteous. I flashed back to the conversations I'd had with Freckles lately, and how she was insistent on being of help.

I mean, I knew she had something to prove to her mother, but fuck, what if she was doing the exact opposite? What if she was really down with Sheldon and was just fishing for information? What if her ass was sloppy with that shit and the prosecution got wind of it, and was now calling her as a witness?

For her sake, I hoped none of that was true.

"Mase!" Yanni's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You gonna answer your phone or what?"

I looked at the caller ID, praying it wasn't my mother calling to tell me she was having the baby on my couch or some shit. Thankfully, it was Red. "What up, man?"

"Mase. I just got handed a summons."

"You, too?" I responded before filling Yanni in on the new information. "Yanni says they just served Terry a few minutes ago. What the fuck is going on today?"

"I don't know," Red said in a high-pitched voice, "but I'm nervous. You know I don't do well in front of authorities."

"Yeah, you're right." I immediately flashed back to Red's statement a few months back. "We'll work on it, though."

Yanni chimed in. "Ask if he's been served by the prosecution or the defense."

"I heard her. The defense." Red paused. "What does that even mean?"

"That means that you'll be testifying for Alex, instead of against him. Which is a good thing."

"Well, I'm going over to check on Starlet. Make sure she's all right."

"Good. Do that. We just got back to the block. My mother's in labor. Of all the fucking times . . ."

"Be good to your mom, Mase," Red shot back. "You never know when you might need her."

"Whatever, man. I'll speak to you later. I have a feeling I'm gonna need a drink after this day is through."

Yanni and I jumped out of the car and headed to my front door. Yanni ran inside to check on my mother. Before I could get inside, a sheriff's car pulled into the driveway, with two men emerging from the front seat. It's as if they were waiting on me to arrive. Shit.

"Jackson Mason?" one of the uniformed officers inquired.

"That's me."

"Good," he said, handing me a summons. "You've been served." 

"Great. Thanks."

As the two men drove off, it hit me. I opened the paper and it confirmed my fear. It read: CALLED BY THE PROSECUTION.

Fuck.

I peered at the calendar taped to the wall right above my cot. I had less than a week, before the festivities would begin. Less than a week before a jury of people who couldn’t possibly be my peers would sit in judgment against me.

I sighed heavily, ignoring the growl of my stomach. For the last couple of days, I’d barely eaten anything. Hardly even said a word to Jay, doing my best to tune out the old school flowing from his cell that used to help ease my mind.

Being a man wasn’t easy. Being a man who had to keep up the front was even harder.

I twisted on the cot and stared out onto the main floor. There was no way I was going to do hard time. Starlet and AJ were my life, and I should have been strutting around like a proud peacock with another baby on the way.

But I couldn’t celebrate, because I knew deep within that if this didn’t turn out right, I’d never see any of them again. I wasn’t doing time for nobody long term, especially somebody I didn’t kill.

Jay suddenly appeared in front of my cell. “Hey, man, you on some kind of hunger strike?” He cheesed through the bars, pressing his face against them.

Looking at him lifted my spirits. Despite the hostile environment, he was nothing more than an innocent kid. I grew a little sullen at that thought, because I knew that by the time he was released, the innocence would be completely wiped away.

“What up, young blood?”

“Nothing, man. It’s all about you. I hear you ain’t been showing up for that mess they call food.”

“You hear that or you know?”

“Sheeeet, seeing as how I work in the kitchen, I pretty much know.”

“I figure I could stand to lose a couple of pounds,” I said, sitting up.

“Oh, come on, man. It’s me, Jay.” He glanced around the cellblock. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“I got nothing to pretend about.” I stood and walked over to him.

Jay handed me a small brown bag. “Compliments of the chef.”

“Is it identifiable?” I laughed and peeked in the bag. The aroma of grilled chicken grabbed my nostrils. My stomach growled louder.

“From the outside. It’s definitely identifiable.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got this.”

“You know that new guard been kind of sweet on me. Yesterday, she bought me shrimp fried rice. That junk was off the izzo.”

“You something else, young blood. Don’t go get caught up now.”

“Man, you know how we do.”

“Yeah, I certainly do.” I gave him dap through the bars and returned to my cot. “I’m gonna hold on to this until later. Midnight snack.”

“Cool. I’ll see what I can hook up on the FM dial.”

“Bet.” I tucked the bag between the mattress and frame, letting the bottom hang freely. Once again, I stretched out on the cot and waited for time to do its thing.

Poor Jean looked like she was still recovering this morning. “Okay, Miss Star, I am never going shopping with you again,” she said, as I pulled into the private garage at my complex. “First, you tried to kill my dogs last night, and now you’re trying to do it again.”

“I’m sorry, girl.” I turned off the ignition and checked all the mirrors, before stepping out of the truck. “You know how I am when it comes to shopping. I practically live in that mall.”

“Now, I believe that. Everybody and their brother knew you up in there,” Jean said, chuckling. She opened her door and maneuvered her growing belly through the small opening.

“That’s because I bring them goodies when I feel like Red has had his fill.” I laughed and so did Jean.

“Thank you for thinking of me. It’s like he doesn’t have a ‘belly full’ indicator. He’ll just keep eating and eating and eating. Then I have to be the one to deal with his illness, if you get my drift.”

“Yes, I do. He’s blown out my bathroom a number of times. Girl, one day he had me on the phone trying to convince my mother to bring me some pure oxygen.”

Jean laughed so hard, she had to lean against the truck. While she laughed, I scanned the garage for any strange cars or people. I grabbed my numerous bags off the backseat and moved quickly toward the elevator.

When I turned around, Jean was staring at me like I had lost my mind.

“OK, you’re hiding something. You zoomed through the mall last night. You zoomed through the grocery store today. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Jean stood with bags in one hand and her other hand on her hip, refusing to move even when the elevator doors slid open.

I searched the garage once more, before pressing the button for the elevator again. “OK, OK, I’ll explain when we get upstairs. There’s an echo down here.”

That earned me another crazy stare, but at least she got on the elevator. When we got into the apartment, I paid Terry for keeping an eye on AJ and called her a cab.

Jean wanted to know what was up so badly, she practically pushed Terry out the door when the cab arrived. “OK, now, spill,” she said, sliding onto the couch and popping her feet on the ottoman.

I stood there a few minutes, wondering where to begin.

“Well?” Jean asked.

“All right. All right,” I said, sitting in the armchair across from Jean. “It started a few days ago.”

“What started?” Jean asked, shifting in her seat.

“Can I finish?”

“I’m sorry. Keeping going.”

“As I was saying, it started a few days ago. The feeling that somebody’s following me. Then, yesterday, they made themselves known.”

“What?”

“Umm, can I finish?”

Jean nodded, moving to the edge of her seat.

“After yesterday, I didn’t have to wonder. I now know I’m being watched. I have no idea who it could be, but I’ve got ideas.”

“So, what happened yesterday?”

“You’re not going to believe this . . .” I said trailing off.

“Try me,” Jean said.

“Somebody sent me black roses with a message that said they had their eye on me.”

Jean drew in a deep breath. “Black roses? Where are they? Did you tell Yanni and Red?”

“Yanni knows, but I haven’t told Red. He’d probably have you all spending the night here.”

“Oh my God, Starlet, you could very well be in danger. What if it’s Sheldon? He might be trying to hurt Alex through you.”

“Wait, I haven’t told you the rest.”

“There’s more?”

“Of course, why do you think I said I haven’t told you the rest?”

Jean rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her belly. “Get to it, girlfriend.”

“Well, yesterday when I was leaving the jail, this car comes flying through the parking lot and almost sideswipes me as I’m pulling out. It was a car just like Eric used to drive.”

Jean’s hand flew up to her mouth. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Same color, same tinted windows, same rims. It’s like somebody recreated the car. I was so startled, I didn’t even look at the plates.”

Jean got up and began pacing the room, her brows etched in thought. “What if this isn’t Sheldon? What if this somehow does have a connection to Eric? From what Red says, there are no guarantees that Vincent is dead, just missing.”  

“At first I thought I was crazy to think it might be Vincent, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Well, we know for certain that Eric is dead, right?”

“Of course, Eric is dead. Why do you think Vincent was after the money? Besides, Eric would never put me through something like this. It just wasn’t in his character.”

“The cologne at the hotel.”

Jean and I flipped around. Neither of us had heard Red come in.

“Red, what are you talking about?” I asked. “And when did you come in?”

“I’ve been here for awhile. I guess Terry forgot to tell you I was taking a nap. Kind of had a stomachache after finishing the peach cobbler,” Red said, giving Jean a sheepish look.

“Cologne. You said something about cologne,” I said. 

“Yeah, when we went to the hotel looking for Sheldon the other night. The room smelled just like some stuff Vincent used to wear. I got a thing for smells, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. You never miss a smell coming out of the kitchen,” I said, laughing. “But what made you remember that Vincent wore a certain fragrance?”

“Oh, I didn’t exactly remember at first. But after I finished beating the guy up for nothing that’s when I really remembered. But I still brushed it off until now because I just thought Sheldon had the same bad taste in cologne.”

Jean rushed up to Red and kissed him on the cheek. “You are brilliant, baby.”

“Why? Because I know colognes?”

We both gave Red a perplexed look.

Lightweight.

"You know, what I said before, I wasn't trying to defend my mother. I know she's in this shit deep."

Yanni's eyes suddenly opened wide. "You're damn right, she is! That woman is hiding a fugitive. She's aiding and abetting. She's responsible for Alex being in jail." She winced again and laid her head back. "She doesn't need defending from you. She needs to be a defendant."

"I know. Trust me, I do. And I feel horrible that it's my mother that's the fucking broken key to getting Alex out. Hell, maybe it's for the best she didn't tell me where Sheldon was. I would've probably killed him myself for knocking my mother up." 

"Mason, please. You don't have murder in you. Period. And especially not when it comes to your mother. There's no way you would've killed the man that makes her happy. Part of me thinks that's why you were messing up so bad trying to tail her."

"What does that mean?" I said, stealing a glance at Yanni as we sped down the highway.

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. You know exactly what it means. What would you have done if she told you where Sheldon was? Go find him? Kill him? Bring him back for justice?"

"Shit. Maybe all three."

"And what? Then make your mother miserable?"

"She deserves to be miserable for hooking up with him in the first place. For getting pregnant at her age. For—"

"For what, Mase? For betraying you?"

"Yes. And my father. She deserves to be miserable for that!"

Yanni gave me a look, and then busted out laughing. "Mason, you're killin' me softly over here. You didn't even like your father, and now you're trying to defend his honor? I can't take it."

She doubled over, with damn near tears coming from her eyes.

"That shit's not funny, Yanni," I shot back.

"It is funny," she said, straigtening back up and grimacing while holding her head. "It's funny because your father was a horrible man. And he was horrible to your mother and to you."

"But he was still my father."

"And she's still your mother. And as much as you say she should pay for her sins, you can't—and wouldn't—be the one to do it."

She was right. As upset as I was with her, I wasn't sure I could ever contribute to making her life hell. If I ever would've found Sheldon, I know I'd want to kill him with my bare hands. But would I?

Yanni looked over at me. "Look, Mase. The other day when I told you to lay back, yes, it was partly because you'd messed up. But it was also because I knew that you couldn't really be objective. It was impossible. If you helped Alex, you'd hurt your family."

"Alex is family, and you've all been more family than I've ever known."

"But he, and we, aren't blood. We're not your mother."

My head began to pound as we drove in silence for the remainder of the trip, finally reaching the prison parking lot. Yanni spoke to Starlet on her cell phone as I navigated my way through the massive lot. Clearly, it was a huge day for visitors, as it was packed with cars. I cut off the ignition and started to open my door when my phone vibrated on my hip.

I couldn't help but let out a sigh when I saw that it was my mother on the caller ID. "What's up? What do you need?" I said, frustrated.

"I need a doctor, Jack. My water just broke. I need you."

Fuck. 

First, Carla failed horribly in trying to weasel information out of me regarding Alex, but managed to piss me off with her constant insults disguised as curiosity and concern. Next, Starlet forced us to shop until we dropped; the latter of which Jean and I promptly did toward the end of the trip. Lastly, I came home to find Rain and Mason going at it in the front yard.

When I tried to intervene, Rain got pissed, jumped in his car and drove off. A smug Mason, on the other hand, invited himself in. It was only because of Terry and a low-grade headache that I didn’t curse him out for trying to run my house in my absence.

I poured drinks as I filled Mason in on his mother’s conniving ways. One drink led to two, then three. Before I knew it, I lost count. Truthfully, I had no idea how I’d gotten to bed. Sooner or later, I’d have to get up, because Terry would need a ride to classes.

Suddenly, what sounded like a drill invaded the quiet of the room. I forced my head deeper into the fluffy softness of the pillow. Who in the hell would be working so early in the morning?

Moments later, a knock came at my door.

“Yeah?” I moaned.

“Hey, mom, wake up. Mason’s on the phone.”

“Tell him I’ll call him back later.”

Terry mumbled something on the other side of the door, just before opening it. “He says it can’t wait. It’s about Alex.”

I drew myself up and took the phone from her. “Thanks. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll run you to classes.”

“No worries. I’m not going in today.”

“Why not?”

“I got an e-mail. Today’s class has been canceled and, since I only have one other, it doesn’t pay to drive all the way there.”

“If you say so.”

Terry smiled. “You don’t look like you’re up to going anywhere anyway.” She glanced at the phone. “You’d better talk to him before he shows up here again.”

“Oops, you’re right.”

I waited for Terry to close the door, before speaking. “What’s up, Mase?”

“It’s about damn time,” he said, breathing heavily.

“Mase, I’ve got a terrible headache, so please don’t start.”

“I’m just saying. I’ve been waiting almost five minutes and—”

“I said ‘please.’”

He huffed. “I called because Alex’s attorney has been trying to reach you. When he couldn’t get you, he called me.”

“Really? Why not Red or—”

“Or somebody who won’t screw things up?” Mason added.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s exactly what you meant. The point is Alex told him to call me.”

“Fine. So, what’s the deal?”

“Jury selection has begun.”

“I thought that wasn’t for another two weeks.”

“Nope, started this morning. They’re hoping to have it completed by tomorrow at the latest.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I were.”

“This doesn’t make sense. First, they take forever to set a trial date, now, they rush into jury selection. Something’s not right about this.”

“Makes me wonder who your father really is,” Mason snapped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it, Yanni. Your father and his people have little to no evidence to convict Alex, but they’ve indicted him. With that little to no evidence they’re rushing to try him. Doesn’t that sound peculiar?”

“What sounds peculiar is that Sheldon is supposedly dead, but your mother’s far from a grieving widow.”

“They weren’t married.”

“You know what the hell I mean.”

“Stay on topic, dammit,” Mason countered.

“I am on topic. All this has everything to do with the other. Your mother is keeping secrets, not to mention keeping an innocent man behind bars for a murder that never happened.”

“Hey, don’t go blaming my mother. It’s not her fault Sheldon and Alex bumped heads years ago.”

“It’s not Alex’s fault either.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“That’s what it sounded like to me. Look, my head is pounding, and I don’t feel up to arguing. You wanna go with me to see Alex?”

“Why do you think I called?”

“I thought it was to make my ass hurt as bad as my head hurts.”

Mason laughed. “Having trouble handling your liquor?”

“Mase?”

“All right. I’m at your front door. Come open it.”    

She seemed about eight months along. Which made me ask myself, Why now? Why is she all of a sudden hiring me to follow her husband at this late stage in the pregnancy?

Hell, I had a million questions, like why did we have to meet again so soon after our initial meeting, especially since I'd been working day and night on this surveillance, barely having enough time to nap in between tails? It just seemed strange.

But I needed the money, and she was paying a very nice fee. And the longer we sat in silence, the stranger it got. My cardinal rule is to always let the client speak first. So I sipped and waited.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of her sizing me up, she spoke.

"You know, I'm paying you a lot of money to look after my husband." She rubbed her belly again, this time looking directly into my eyes. "Our baby will be here soon, and I need for my husband to be around. I need for him to be all right."

I nodded before taking another sip of my coffee. I wanted her to finish her thought before responding.

"Do you speak?" she asked.

I rested my mug on the table and smiled. "I do. And no disrespect to you, but your husband and his crew seem to have it all together. Hell, even I find them impressive, which is saying a lot. So while I appreciate the money, I'm just not sure why you need me."

"Insurance," she stated calmly. "That 'crew,' as you call it, has been together for years. I've put my husband's life in their hands for years. But after last year . . ." Her voice trailed off.

My instincts told me not to ask, so I didn't. Instead, I sat there and waited for her to continue.

"Let's just say that things have changed. And, now, the stakes are higher," she said, patting her belly yet again.

"So I'm your insurance policy?" I countered. "I'm the one to make sure your husband comes home at night."

"That's right. You'd be surprised how many single mothers I see every day coming into the clinic, just sad and alone. They come in with no hope for the future, no promise in their eyes. Some days it takes everything I have not to just grab each and every one of them and try and hug away the hurt.

"I come home at night shaking, refusing to become one of my patients. I need my husband. He gives me hope. I need you to help me keep him around."

I put my head down, thinking that this woman was a psycho. From what I saw, her husband didn't need a nanny. He was always seemingly one step ahead of his intended target. Hell, the whole crew was. It kept me on my toes, tailing them, since it meant that I had to be two steps ahead in order to maintain my cover.

"Mr. Coleman, are you all right?"

"Fine," I said, refocusing. "It's just that I've been tailing your husband for a few weeks now. What's the endgame? How long? Until you have the baby?"

"Maybe. It could be longer. I haven't decided."

"Oh, you haven't decided?" I laughed. "Well, that's interesting because I'm not sure I'd want to continue this job past the pregnancy."

She straightened up and placed her glass on the table. "Mr. Coleman, do you know what I do for a living?"

"Rule number 1 of my job is to do your homework. So, of course, I know what you do. I know that you work at the clinic downtown as a specialist that helps women in crisis."

"Yes, that's correct. I'm a doctor who specializes in helping women end their pregnancies. And with that job comes rules, like 'don't ask too many questions.' That bothers me."

"And why is that?"

"Because, like you, I like to do my homework."

"Really? So that means you did your homework on me."

"It means just that, Mr. Coleman. You don't think I chose you at random for such a big job, do you?"

"Apparently not," I shot back. I squinted in her direction, waiting for her to play her hand.

"About a year ago, a woman entered the clinic looking for help in ending her pregnancy. She gave me a bogus name, but I knew who she was."

"Oh, did you?"

"Yes. She was the governor's wife. Carla Mason."

"How could you be so sure?"

"I was sure."

"That's interesting. But, really, isn't your telling me this information violating every rule of ethics known to medicine?"

"Normally, it would be. But seeing as she put your name down as an emergency contact, I think we're safe." She pulled the document from her portfolio, pointing to the line where my name and phone number were written in ink.

"I have no idea what this is about," I said, careful not to flinch. Or even blink. My eyes remained fixed on her as her lips curled into a smile.

"Are you sure?" She laid the document in front of me. "Why don't you keep this copy? Maybe it will refresh your memory."

From that point on, there were only two things I was sure of: that Carla was damn sloppy a year ago, and that this bitch's death would be my insurance that she would never speak my or Carla's name ever again.

She'd be handled.