"Yeah, a few billion of them," Kovac muttered.

"Sergeant!"

"Sergeant Kovac believes I should be punished for my wealth, Chief,"

Bondurant said, still pacing, staring at the floor now. "He perhapsbelieves I deserved to lose my daughter so I could know what real suffering is."

"After what I heard today, I believe you never deserved to have a

daughter at all," Kovac said, eliciting a gasp from the mayor. "You sure as h.e.l.l deserved to lose her, but not in the way she's lost now.

That is to say if she's dead at all-and we're nowhere near ready to say

that she is."

"Sergeant Kovac, I hope you have a very good explanation for this

behavior." Greer moved toward him aggressively, drawing his weight lifter's shoulders up.

Kovac stepped away from him. His full attention was on Peter Bondurant.

And Peter Bondurant's attention was on him. He stopped his pacing, an

instinctive wariness in the narrowed eyes, like an animal sensing

danger.

"I had a long talk today with Cheryl Thorton," Kovac said, and watched what color Peter Bondurant had leech away. "She had some very interesting things to say about your divorce from Jillian's mother."

Edwyn n.o.ble looked startled. "I fail to see what relevance-"

"Oh, I think it could be very relevant." Kovac still stared hard at Bondurant.

Bondurant said, "Cheryl is a bitter, vindictive woman."

"You think so? After she's kept her mouth shut all this time? I'd say

you're an ungrateful son of a b.i.t.c.h-"

"Kovac, that's enough!" Greer shouted.

"Hardly," Kovac said. "You want to kiss the a.s.s of a child-molester,

Chief, that's your business. I won't do it. I don't give a s.h.i.t how rich he is."

"Oh!" Grace n.o.ble exclaimed, pressing her hand to her chest again.

"Maybe we should take this downstairs," Quinn suggested mildly.

"Fine by me," Kovac said. "We've got an interview room all warmed up."

Bondurant had begun to tremble visibly. "I never abused Jillian." "Maybe you think you didn't." Kovac circled slowly around him, movingaway from Greer, keeping Bondurant's eyes on him and putting his back tohis lawyer. "A lot of pedophiles convince themselves they're doing thekid a favor. Some even confuse f.u.c.king little kids with love. Is thatwhat you made yourself believe?"

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

Bondurant launched himself, grabbing Kovac by the lapels and running him

backward across the room. They crashed into a side table and sent a pairof bra.s.s candlesticks flying like bowling pins. Kovac held back the urge to roll Bondurant over and pound the s.h.i.t out of him. After what he'd heard today, he dearly wanted to, and maybe hecould have if they'd crossed paths in a dark alley. But men like PeterBondurant didn't frequent dark alleys, and rough justice never touchedthem.

Bondurant got in one good swing, glancing his knuckles off the corner ofKovac's mouth. Then Quinn grabbed him by the back of the collar andpulled him away. Greer rushed in between them like a referee, armsspread wide, eyes rolling white in his dark face.

"Sergeant Kovac, I think you should step outside," he said loudly.

Kovac straightened his tie and jacket. He wiped a smear of blood awayfrom the corner of his mouth, and a smirk twisted his lips as he lookedat Peter Bondurant.

"Ask him where he was last night at two o'clock in the morning," hesaid.

"While someone was setting his daughter's car on fire with a mutilateddead woman inside it."

"I won't even dignify that with a comment," Bondurant said, fussing withhis gla.s.ses.

"Jesus, you're just the cat's a.s.s, aren't you?" Kovac said. "You getaway with child abuse. You get away with a.s.saulting an officer. You'reinto this case like a bad infection. You think you might get away withmurder if you want to?"

"Kovac!" Greer screamed.

Kovac looked to Quinn, shook his head, and walked out.

Bondurant jerked out of Quinn's hold. "I want him off the case! I wanthim off the force!"

"Because he's doing his job?" Quinn asked calmly. "It's his job toinvestigate. He can't help what he finds, Peter. You're killing themessenger."

"He's not investigating the case!" he shouted, pacing again, gesturingwildly. "He's investigating me. He's hara.s.sing me. I've lost mydaughter, for G.o.d's sake!"

Edwyn n.o.ble tried to take hold of his arm as he pa.s.sed. Bonduranttwisted away. "Peter, calm down. Kovac will be dealt with."

"I think we should deal with what Sergeant Kovac found, don't you?"Quinn said to the lawyer.

"It's nonsense," n.o.ble snapped. "There's nothing to the allegationwhatsoever."

"Really? Sophie Bondurant was an emotionally unstable woman.

Why would the courts award her custody of Jillian? More to the point,"he asked, trying to establish eye contact with Bondurant.

Bondurant kept moving, highly agitated, sweating now, pale in the way that made Quinn think he might be ill.

"Cheryl Thorton says the reason you didn't fight was that Sophiethreatened to expose you for molesting Jillian."

"I never hurt Jillian. I wouldn't."

"Cheryl has always blamed Peter for her husband's accident," n.o.ble saidbitterly. "She didn't want Donald to sell out of Paragon. She punishedhim for it too. Drove him to drink. She's the one who caused the accident-indirectly-but she blames Peter."

"And this bitter, vindictive woman never said anything until now aboutthis alleged abuse?" Quinn said. "That would be hard to imagine if notfor the generous monthly payments Peter sends to the convalescent homewhere Donald Thorton is spending the last of his life."

"Some people would call that generosity," n.o.ble said.

"And some people would call it blackmail. Some people would say Peterwas buying Cheryl Thorton's silence."

"They'd be wrong," n.o.ble stated unequivocally. "Donald and Peter werefriends, partners. Why shouldn't he see to it the man's needs are takencare of?"

"He took very good care of him in the buyout of Paragon-which,coincidentally, went on about the same time as the divorce," Quinncontinued. "The deal might have been considered overly generous onPeter's part."

"What was he supposed to do?" n.o.ble demanded. "Try to steal the companyfrom the man who'd helped him build it?"

Bondurant, Quinn noticed, had stopped talking, and now confined his.p.a.cing to the corner by the window. Retreating. His head was down and hekept touching his hand to his forehead as if feeling for a fever. Quinnmoved casually toward him, neatly cutting his pacing area in half.Subtly crowding his s.p.a.ce.

"Why didn't you fight Sophie for custody, Peter?" he asked softly, anintimate question between friends. He kept his own head down, his handsin his pants pockets.

"I was taking over the business. I couldn't handle a child too."

"And so you left her to Sophie? A woman in and out of mentalinst.i.tutions."

"It wasn't like that. It wasn't as if she was insane. Sophie hadproblems. We all have problems."

"Not the kind that make us kill ourselves."

Tears filled the man's eyes. He raised a hand as if to shade his eyesfrom Quinn's scrutiny.

"What did you and Jillian argue about that night, Peter?"

He shook his head a little, moving now in a tight, short line. Pacing three steps, turning, pacing three steps, turning .. .

"She'd gotten a call from her stepfather," Quinn said. "You were angry."

"We've been over this," Edwyn n.o.ble said impatiently, clearly wanting toget between Quinn and his client. Quinn turned a shoulder, blocking himout.

"Why do you keep insisting Jillian is dead, Peter? I don't know that sheis. I think she may not be. Why would you say that she is? What did youfight about that night?"

, "Why are you doing this to me?" Bondurant whispered in a torturedvoice. His prim, tight-lipped mouth was quivering.

"Because we need to know the truth, Peter, and I think you're holdingback pieces of the puzzle. If you want the truth-as you say you do-thenyou have to give those pieces to me. Do you understand? We need to seethe whole picture."

Quinn held his breath. Bondurant was on the edge. He could feel it, seeit. He tried to will him over it.

Bondurant stared out the window at the snow, still now, looking numb.

"All I wanted was for us to be father and daughter-"

"That's enough, Peter." n.o.ble stepped in front of Quinn and took hisclient by the arm.

"We're leaving."

He glared at Quinn. "I thought we understood each other."

"Oh, I understand you perfectly, Mr. n.o.ble,"

" Quinn said. "That doesn't mean I'm interested in playing on your team.I'm interested in two things only: the truth, and justice. I don't knowthat you want either."

n.o.ble said nothing. He led Bondurant from the room like a caretaker witha sedated patient.

Quinn looked to the mayor, who had finally taken a seat herself.

She looked partly stunned and partly reflective, as if trying to sortthrough old memories for any that might have implicated Peter Bondurantin something she would never have suspected. Chief Greer looked like aman in the early stages of diverticulitis.

"That's the thing about digging holes," Quinn said. "There are noa.s.surances you'll find what you want--or want what you find."

BY FIVE O'CLOCK every news agency native to and camped in the TWINCities had the name of Gil Vanlees. The same media that would plasterthat name in print and fill television screens with bad photographs ofthe man would point fingers at the police department for leakinginformation.

Quinn had no doubt where the leak had sprung, and it p.i.s.sed him off.

Bondurant's people having the kind of access they had tainted the case.

And in the light of Kovac's revelation that afternoon, Bondurant'smeddling took on an even darker quality.

No one had leaked that story to the press. Not even the allegedlybitter, vindictive Cheryl Thorton, whose brain-damaged husband wa.s.supported by Peter Bondurant. He wondered exactly how much money it tookto hold a grudge like that at bay for a decade.