"I'll give you more time with this girl, Kate." He made it sound as ifhe were doing so grudgingly, even though the whole arrangement had beenhis idea. "But we need results, and we need them quickly. I thought youof all the advocates in your office would understand that."

"She's working with Oscar again this afternoon," she said, moving towardthe door.

Sabin came away from his desk and walked with her, resting his handbetween her shoulder blades. "You'll be through in court in time to be there with her?"

"Yes. "Because I'm sure Rob can juggle something and have someone else take care of this hearing."

"No, sir. The hearing won't take long," she promised with a pained

smile. "Besides, I wouldn't wish this particular client on any of my

colleagues. They know where I live."

"Maybe we should have Agent Quinn sit in on this session with Oscar and the girl," he suggested.

The hand on her back had a knife in it suddenly.

"I don't see how that would be helpful."

"No, you were right, Kate," he argued. "This witness isn't ordinary.

And as you said, Quinn has a great deal of experience. He might be able

to pick up on something, suggest a strategy. I'll call him."

Kate stepped out the door and stood there as it closed behind her.

"Me and my big mouth."

"Kate-" Rob Marshall began in a low voice. Kate wheeled on him as he

slipped out into the hall.

"You weasel," she accused in a harsh whisper. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing him by the ears and shaking him. "You gave me the go-ahead to take Angie to the Phoenix. Now you stand in there and give Sabin the impression it was all my doing! I thought you'd cleared it

with him. That's what I told Kovac. And I accused Kovac of being paranoid for not trusting it."

"I broached the subject of the Phoenix with him-"

"But he didn't go for it."

"He didn't say no."

"Well, he sure as h.e.l.l didn't say yes."

"He had his mind on other things. I knew taking her there was how you

would want to play it, Kate."

"Don't try to put this off on me. You took some initiative for a change.

Can't you at least own up to it?"

He breathed heavily through his too-short nose and his face turned a

dull red. "Kate, does it ever cross your mind that I'm your superior?"

She closed her mouth on the rejoinder that came to mind, and sc.r.a.ped together what respect she could. "I'm sorry. I'm angry."

"And I'm your boss. I'm in charge," he said. She could hear the

frustration in his voice.

"I don't envy you that job," she said dryly. "I ought to really

antagonize you. You could take me off this powder keg. But I don't wantoff it," she admitted. "Must be the Swedish m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t in me."

"You're exactly who I want with this witness, Kate," he said. He pushedhis gla.s.ses up on his nose and smiled like a man with a toothache. "Nowwho's the m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t?"

"I'm sorry. I don't like being made to feel like a p.a.w.n, that's all."

"Focus on the outcome. We got what we wanted."

His relationship with Sabin was intact. Her apparent overstepping ofboundaries would be written off to her well-known arrogance, Sabin wouldforgive her because he had the hots for her, and Rob came off lookinglike a diplomat, if not a leader. Once again the end justified the means.

Nothing hurt but her pride.

"I'm not averse to conspiracy, you know," she said, still miffed.

She'd had every intention of stealing Angie away from Sabin's clutches,and she would never in a million years have let Rob Marshall in on theplan. That was what was really grating on her-that Rob had one-uppedher.

She never wanted to think he was more clever than her or more shrewd or her superior in any way. A h.e.l.l of an att.i.tude to have toward her boss.

"Have you heard anything back from your friends in Wisconsin yet?" sheasked.

"Nothing yet."

"It'd be nice to know who the h.e.l.l this kid is. I feel like I'm workingwith a blindfold on."

"I've got the videotape of Angie's interviews," he said, setting hishands at his middle. "I thought it might be helpful to sit down togetherand go over it. Maybe we could bring Quinn into that too. I'd like tohear his opinion."

"Yeah, why not?" Kate said, resigning herself. "Let me know when you set.i.t up. I have to get to court."

Some days it just seemed the better option to stay home and hit herthumb with a hammer. At least that was a pain from which she couldeasily recover. John Quinn was another matter altogether.

"I WAS AFRAID you weren't coming," David Willis said with no smallamount of accusation. He rushed up to Kate as she made her way aroundthe knots of lawyers in the hall outside the criminal courtrooms.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Mr. Willis. I was in a meeting with the countyattorney."

"About my case?"

"No. Everything is ready to go for your case."

"I'm not going to have to testify, right?"

"Not today, Mr. Willis." Kate steered her client toward the courtroom.

"This is just a hearing. The prosecutor, Mr. Merced, will be presentingjust enough evidence to have the court bind Mr. Zubek over for trial."

"But he won't call me as a surprise witness or anything?" He looked halfterrified, half hopeful at the prospect.

Somehow, Kate knew this was just how David Willis had looked in his highschool yearbook back in the seventies: out-of-date crew cut and nerdgla.s.ses, pants that were an odd shade of green and an inch toohigh-wasted. People had probably a.s.saulted him regularly all his life.

For the occasion of the hearing, he had worn the black hornrimmedgla.s.ses that had been broken in the course of his a.s.sault. They wereheld together in two places by adhesive tape. His left wrist was encasedin a molded plastic cast, and he wore a cervical collar like a thickturtleneck.

"Surprise witnesses happen only on Matlock," Kate said.

"Because I'm just not ready for that. I'm going to have to work myselfup to that, you know."

"Yes, I think we're all aware of that, Mr. Willis." Because he hadcalled every day for the last week to remind them: Kate, Ken Merced,Ken's secretary, the legal services receptionist.

"I won't be in any physical danger, will I? He'll be in handcuffs andleg irons, right?"

"You'll be perfectly safe."

"Because, you know, situational stress can push people over the edge.

I've been reading up on it. I've been religiously attending the victims'group you set me up with, Ms. Conlan, and I've been reading everything Ican get my hands on about the criminal mind, and the psychology ofvictims, and post-traumatic stress disorder-just the way you told me todo."

Kate often recommended her clients educate themselves as to what to expect of their own reactions and emotions following a crime. It gavethem a sense of understanding and a small feeling of control. She didn'trecommend it as an all-consuming hobby.

Knowing Willis would want to be close to the action, she chose the firstrow in the gallery behind the prosecution's table, where Ken Merced wasgoing over some notes. Willis b.u.mped into her as she stopped to indicatethe row, then tripped over his own feet trying to move aside andgallantly motion Kate in ahead of him.

Kate shook her head as she stepped into the row and took a seat.

Willis fumbled with the cheap briefcase he'd brought with him. Filledwith news clippings about his case, Polaroids taken of him in the ERafter the attack, brochures on victims' groups and therapists, and ahardcover copy of Coping After the Crime. He pulled out a yellow legal pad and prepared to take notes of the proceedings-as he had at every

meeting Kate had had with him.

Merced turned to them with a pleasant poker face. "We're all set, Mr.

Willis. This won't take long."

"You're certain you won't need me to testify?"

"Not today."

He gave a shuddering sigh. "Because I'm not ready for that."

"No." Merced turned back toward the table. "None of us are."

Kate sat back and tried to will the tension out of her jaw as Willis

became engrossed in making his preliminary notes.

"You always were a secret soft touch."

The low whisper rumbled over her right shoulder, the breath caressing

the delicate skin of her neck. Kate jerked around, scowling.

Quinn leaned ahead on his chair, elbows braced on his knees, dark eyes

gleaming, that little-boy-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar smile firmly and calculatingly in place.