"Wait, I want to hear it!" Averly flashed his lawyer an angry glance. "It's my life, not yours!" He turned to me. "Ask your question."

Terry's eyes narrowed to slits and her chin jutted out. She looked like she wanted to reach over and snap his neck. But she didn't object any further. A client doesn't control much, but he does have the right to decide whether he'll take a deal or not. If Terry tried to get in his way now, even if it was just to keep him quiet, she ran the risk of looking like she was interfering with that right. And it was all being recorded.

"When you were on the mountain, did you get a call from Ian on a strange cell phone?" Averly wouldn't have known it was Brian's cell that Ian was using, but he might well have noticed the number was unfamiliar.

Averly frowned and looked down at the table. Then his expression cleared. "Yeah, I did."

"Where were you when you got that call?" I asked.

"In my car, out on the road."

"Could you see him?"

"No."

"What did he-"

Terry slammed her palm down on the table. "That's it." She leaned forward and spoke directly into Averly's face. "If you answer one more question, you can go find yourself another lawyer!"

Averly shot her an angry look, but he obediently clamped his jaws together.

"Fine," I said. "Jack, you plead guilty to accessory after the fact and I'll agree to time served. That means you're out of here as soon as you enter the plea."

"A hell of an offer," Bailey added.

Averly gave me a little smile. "Don't you kind of have to reduce my charges to accessory now? I mean, how could I be a killer if I'm getting a call in my car?"

"Doesn't mean you're not an accomplice. The law doesn't require you to be present to qualify as an aider and abettor-which means you're held equally as liable as the killer. So, no, I don't 'kind of have to' reduce the charges. And you can always reject this deal and take your chances with a jury."

I stared him down, thinking, "Don't play poker with me, pal." I might not be thrilled with my case against him for murder, but he might not be thrilled with the result if he trusted his fate to twelve strangers. And unlike Averly, if I lost, I wouldn't be facing a lifetime in the slammer.

"How long do I have to think about this?"

I looked at my watch. "Two minutes. I can make this case without your testimony, Jack. Take it or leave it, but if I walk out of here without an answer, the deal's off the table."

He nodded and stared at a point above my head. When he looked back at me, he had a superior little smile.

"No, thanks," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not taking your deal."

53.

Terry stayed behind to talk to Averly. We headed out to Bailey's car.

"You know, I always had a lot of respect for Terry," Bailey said. "So I don't want to believe she'd encourage her client to give up a sweetheart deal just to avoid representing a snitch-or worse, to cozy up to Mr. Big. But I just can't believe a guy who's never done prison time and isn't a gangbanger would turn down a 'no time' deal like this."

"And I doubt there's a Hollywood Production Assistant prison gang to offer protection for their homies."

Bailey chuckled. "No, not last I checked."

"So prison time should be scaring the bejeezus out of this guy." Even if Terry told him we'd never get him for anything more than accessory, that could still mean around a year in prison, even with good time, work time. That's a long time for a virgin like Averly. On the other hand, if the incentive was right..."Averly's young-he's what? Twenty-four?"

"Twenty-three."

"He strikes me as ambitious in a sleazy kind of way. The young part makes him silly enough to think he can handle a short-term stint in prison-"

"Which is really crazy for a soft little cherry like him-"

"And the ambitious part thinks this'll move him to the front of the line when it's time for Ian to hand out his 'I love you's.'"

"Then you don't think Terry pushed him?"

"No. The bummer is, now I'm stuck going to trial against that barracuda."

Bailey grinned. "It'll be the best show in town."

We reviewed what was left to be done for Averly's preliminary hearing. Thankfully, since we had only a few days left, it wasn't much.

Bailey pulled to the curb in front of the courthouse. "I'll go back over Averly's and Powers's phone records and see what kind of activity they had before the kidnapping-"

"And I want to make sure we've got all of the bank records for both of them, any safe-deposit boxes-I know we didn't find any in California, but we should check out of state. That ransom money's got to be somewhere."

Bailey tapped the steering wheel as she stared at the afternoon crowds. "You know, it's possible Averly stashed the ransom money in New York."

"Yeah, that should be an easy search. Somewhere in New York." Bailey shook her head, and I turned my thoughts to a more immediate issue. "I was planning to add accessory charges to Averly's counts and take him to prelim on everything. But now I'm starting to think we should dismiss the murder counts."

"And just go after him as an accessory? Why? Why not wait until after the prelim?"

"Given the evidence we have now, there's a real possibility the prelim judge will dump our murder charges anyway and only hold him on the accessory counts. If that happens, it'll look like we were overreaching-"

Bailey nodded slowly. "True. And even if we got to keep the murder counts, I'm not all that excited about our chances with a jury-"

"No." I didn't believe we had proof beyond a reasonable doubt that Averly knowingly aided and abetted the murders. If I didn't believe it, then I couldn't ethically put those counts into a jury's hands. "And it might take some wind out of Terry's sails. Now that she has the phone records, she'll want to rent a Goodyear blimp to holler about how Averly's been falsely accused. If we beat her to the punch and dismiss the murder counts, it might take out some of the sting."

"What do you want to bet she's calling the clerk to set a bail review hearing even as we speak?"

I looked at my phone, half expecting it to ring with that news right now. "No bet."

Averly, like Ian, was being held without bail because double homicide is a capital crime that prohibits bail as long as the proof is evident or the presumption of guilt great. But with the new evidence that showed Averly probably wasn't personally involved in either murder, Terry would have a good shot at convincing a judge that he was at best an accessory, not an accomplice to murder, and therefore entitled to bail.

"So we may as well get out in front of it and drop the murder charges before she can make us look any worse."

"That's the way I see it," I said. "I'll call the clerk and get us set for a re-arraignment." But Terry would probably still insist on keeping our preliminary hearing date, so the new charges wouldn't buy us any more time. "Did we get any of that surveillance footage from LAX?"

We'd asked for footage of the day of the kidnapping for all gates with flights to JFK or LaGuardia airports to see if we could spot Averly.

"It wasn't in as of this morning. But we don't need it for prelim, do we?"

"No. I just want to make sure we keep after them so we have it in time to show the jury. Terry's not going to waive any time in this case, so we'll be in trial within sixty days after the preliminary hearing."

Just saying the words made my stomach knot. There were still a few loose ends that needed tidying, but we were pretty much as ready as we were going to be. What plagued me were the unanswered questions. Not only how everyone ended up on Boney Mountain, but also how Ian and Averly found out about the kidnapping to begin with. As to the latter question, I probably already had my answer. Now that I knew how close Russell and Ian were, I felt sure that Russell told Ian. The problem was, with Russell my staunch enemy, I had no way to prove it. Even if there were phone calls between them at the relevant time, there was no way to prove what Russell had told him.

The grim look on Bailey's face told me she was well aware of what we were up against.

"Well, one step at a time," I said. "First, let's get through this preliminary hearing on Averly."

I headed up to the office and printed out the new complaint, charging Averly with two counts of being an accessory after the fact. Judge Daglian's clerk, Manny Washburn, called to tell me that we could do the re-arraignment at nine a.m. sharp tomorrow. "But don't be late," he warned. "He's squeezing you in before his regular calendar."

"I'll be there. But tell the judge Terry's going to make a pitch for bail, so-"

"She already warned us."

No shock there. I spent the rest of the day catching up on my caseload. By seven o'clock, I decided to head for home. I wanted to make sure I got to bed at a reasonable hour. It was going to be a tough morning.

I woke up on time and tried to prepare myself for the butt-slamming I was about to get from the press. No matter how I tried to spin it, reducing the charges on Averly so dramatically was going to hurt us. We'd be accused of sloppy police work, sloppy lawyering, and overreaching. But it was better to get it over with now, and on our own terms, than lose the counts at prelim-or worse, in the middle of trial. I got in at eight thirty and reviewed my notes for the bail argument. Fifteen minutes later I started to head down to court, but got stuck on back-to-back phone calls from lawyers and witnesses on my other cases. By the time I finished, it was five minutes to nine. I raced out the door to the elevator and punched the button. I glanced down at my watch over and over again as precious minutes ticked by before an elevator finally arrived. By the time I made it to the courtroom, it was five minutes past nine. Judge Daglian was already on the bench-and fuming. Manny, the clerk, was shaking his head.

"Ms. Knight, what does nine sharp mean to you?"

"I'm so sorry, Your Honor. I got stuck on-"

"Not interested. If it happens again you can bring your checkbook. Now, please give the new charging papers to the clerk and counsel and arraign the defendant."

As I handed out the copies, I noticed there were only two reporters in the audience and no cameras. Odd. I'd expected Terry to call every news outlet in town to witness this early victory. When I'd finished arraigning Averly on the new charges, Terry launched into her bail pitch.

"Your Honor, I remind the court that the defendant is entitled to reasonable bail now that the capital charges are gone. And these tremendously reduced charges prove that the People's case against my client is unraveling by the minute."

"So what do you suggest, Counsel? O.R.?" Judge Daglian's raised eyebrow made it clear that Averly's release on his own recognizance was not an option.

Terry lifted her chin, the "tell" that she was spoiling for a fight, but she reined in her baser instincts. "I'd say at most a bail of ten thousand would be appropriate."

"People? You good with that?" the judge asked.

"No, Your Honor, we're not. Jack Averly has already given us ample cause to believe he'd be a flight risk." I outlined his trip to New York, how he'd been apprehended at LaGuardia Airport, his possession of Brian's ID, and his drug history. "I'd ask for five hundred thousand dollars bail."

Terry sputtered about the "outrageousness" of my request. The judge split the baby.

"I'll set bail at two hundred and fifty thousand."

I'd figured we'd land somewhere in this ballpark, and ordinarily I wouldn't have worried that a defendant like Averly would be able to make bail. But Averly had deeper pockets floating around him than most other defendants. I scooted up to my office and called Bailey immediately.

"I'll put a tail on him," she said. "Don't sweat it, Knight."

I didn't have time to sweat it. The press had missed this development on the first bounce, but they more than made up for it now. I got an avalanche of calls demanding information. Sandi, the media relations director, decided it would be best to handle this in a press conference. The conference room off Vanderhorn's office was so crowded, reporters were sitting on the floor. For a change, I was glad Vanderhorn had asked me to stand next to him at the podium. He'd be within arm's reach if I needed to throttle him.

But he started well enough. "As I've said before, this investigation is ongoing. It is not uncommon to amend charges as new information comes in-"

A reporter shouted out, "But this is a big drop. Why didn't you know about this phone call between Powers and Averly sooner?"

Vanderhorn cleared his throat-a typical stalling tactic of his-and said, "It is our duty to be ever vigilant to the possibility that new information will change the complexion of a case, and to be willing to make any necessary alterations, as we have done-"

Another reporter, smelling blood, chimed in. "Yeah, but he's asking why you didn't know about that call-isn't checking the defendant's phone records one of the first things you do?"

Vanderhorn drew himself up with a deep breath, and I could tell he was getting ready to bury them in more PR blather-which would only piss them off. I stepped in. "Yes, but the call came from Brian's phone-not Ian Powers's."

There was a moment of complete silence as they all absorbed the new information. Then the questions started flying hot and heavy. "Does that mean Averly wasn't there?" and "So where was Averly when the murders went down?"

Vanderputz had barely moved to let me reach the mike-heaven forbid he step out of frame-so I was practically standing on his feet as I fielded every question for the next fifteen minutes. And even though he really had no information to give, he didn't let that stop him from flapping his gums. Every other question, he interceded with brilliant observations like "Investigations are always ongoing" and "Information comes in continuously." By the time Sandi finally ended the conference, I wanted to grab him by his tie and slap him until my arm fell off. But I was too tired.

54.

That evening, as I headed down Broadway toward the Biltmore, my cell phone rang. I thought it might be my soil expert, so I answered.

A fast-talking, excited voice said, "Rachel, it's Benjamin at KRFT radio-can I put you on the air to answer a few questions about today's proceedings?"

My face grew hot with anger. I tried to rein it in as I answered, "No, Benjamin. How did you get this number?"

"Rachel, everyone has the number. We just haven't used it until now."

Furious, I ended the call on as polite a note as I could muster. My cell rang another five times before I got to my room and turned it off. If I changed my number, would they just get it again? Probably. The only thing I could do was to screen my calls and let every unknown number go to voice mail. Feeling hounded, I went to take a shower. But before going to sleep, I made sure all my friends and witnesses had assigned ringtones.

Graden and I settled on Drago Centro, a fantastic place just a few minutes from my hotel, for dinner that Saturday night. I told him about the siege I'd undergone with the press. "Matter of fact, I just had an idea. Would you record the outgoing message on my cell? Maybe it'll cool their jets if they hear a male voice when they call."

"You sure you want me to?" Graden asked, smiling. "It might start a rumor."

Preoccupied with the case, I needed a minute to understand what he meant. "Why would they know the male voice belongs to someone I'm...uh, seeing?"

Graden held up my phone and clicked the "Record" button. "Hello, you've reached Rachel Knight's phone and this is her boyfriend, LIEUTENANT Graden Hales. You can run, but you cannot hide. If you harass her, I will find you." He clicked off, then clicked it on again and added, "Thank you. Have a nice day. And don't leave a message. I wouldn't if I were you."

I didn't know how badly I'd needed to laugh until that moment.