Marcus nodded. "That I can believe. Okay, Who else?"

"There is one brother. Connor Gray. He was fifteen when Daniel was sentenced. Shortly thereafter, Titus sent Connor to a private school in Europe. From there it was Harvard Law School. Then private law practice. If Connor is involved in the family business, no one can find a trace of it. He'S got a clean record, not even a misdemeanor. And he doesn't get along with his father."

"Was he close to his brother?"

"There are records of occasional visits to see Daniel, fourteen over the twelve years. He was not there when his brother was executed."

Dave picked up the last file. "We ran the alias Henry James, used to rent room 1323, through the databases again looking for some link to the Daniel Gray. The alias has been used by a man named Frank teaton-he's a first cousin, has worked for Titus for fifteen years. He'S suspected of two murders and about four assaults."

"A father, a brother, and a cousin."

Dave nodded. "And motive with all of them."

"There's more," Quinn added from where he leaned against the wall by the door. "Connor was at the lenaissance Hotel that weekend." "You're kidding."

"Room 1317. He was involved in merger discussions being held under cover of the conference."

Three people in the family could have done the shootingl all had reasonable motive. "What about the sketch?"

Lisa silently handed him a file. Marcus opened it and groaned. It took only a glance to know they had a problem with their most powerful evidence. "So Shari saw either Frank or Connor. With the disguise that was used it could easily be either man."

Quinn nodded. "We've shown both Frank's and Connor's pictures at the hotel. The security guard for the fourteenth floor telecommunication center is positive on Connor. And we've got three who have identified Frank as being here the week before the shooting."

Marcus looked across the table at his sister, tapping the file in his hand. "Who's left-handed?" he asked quietly.

She gave a small smile. "Connor," she answered simply. "The one without so much as a parking ticket."

Connor and Frank had to be involved, but the father-had it been a family conspiracy to kill the judge? "The father, Titus. ls there any way he was not involved?" Marcus asked the room at large, looking for their perspective.

"His eldest son was sentenced to death by Judge Whitmore. Frank works for him. The church shooting sounds like Frank," Quinn added. "He's known to brag about his marksmanship."

"Missed at six feet, missed at two hundred feet by a hair. Two shooters. Connor and Frank."

Quinn nodded. "I think so."

"And Titus ordered them both to act," Marcus concluded.

"I don't think Frank would act without Titus approval," Dave confirmed.

"Is there anything concrete on Titus?"

Dave shook his head. "He was in Europe when the two shootings occurred. Wiretaps that the FBI had in place for other reasons didn't overhear anything. We'll have to get either Connor or Frank to supply that connection. Frank is used to a hard life andjail time. Connor is more likely to turn on Titus if the pressure hits, but he's also his son. I think we'll need to have both Connor and Frank to get leverage to reach Titus."

Marcus ran the three names over again in his mind-father, brother, cousin. "Is there any way Titus and Frank acted alone? Without Connor?"

Lisa shook her head. "Connor probably hoped it would appear to be the case, but he made a fatal mistake. EIe's the only one who is lehanded. Connor is the shooter."

Marcus would trust that opinion. Connor had shot the judge at the hotel, Frank had shot at Shari at the church, and Titus had set them both in motion. "Where do we find them today?"

Fifteen.

M.

arcus shifted in the plane seat to reach up and shut off his reading light. It was late, he was tired, and they were still over an hour from the lake house. Dave and Quinn were flying back with him. With the reading light off, he was able to see again the view out the small plane window. The blinking light at the end of the plane wing lit the scattered thin clouds around the plane, bathing them in whiteness. Cruising at twenty thousand feet, they were in broken cloud cover with some clouds drifting by below them. When he could see the ground there were clusters of lights marking cities and towns and then black landscape broken only by the occasional line of lights from cars.

Marcus stretched out his legs and considered trying to get some sleep, only to discard the idea. He had never been comfortable sleeping with the low drone of engines as the background.

The plan was in place after a long day of conference calls with Washington.

If Shad could pick out Connor in a lineup of photos, they would move against Connor and Frank. Arresting Titus would have to wait for more evidence. No one wanted him to slip through when they had a chance to send him away on conspiracy to murder a federal judge.

Marcus felt an ache in his heart, knowing the gamble they were taking. The evidence was all circumstantial. But the risk of flight was simply too great to wait-Connor and Frank could disappear anywhere in the world at a moment's notice.

The warrants had to find the direct evidence. The gun used to kill Judge Whitmore, guise. It was hard the evidence, had the blood-splattered suit, the gloves, the shoes, the dis to accept the reality that Lisa, by being so thorough with done the defense attorneyg job for him.

The evidence pointed to either Frank or to Connor-the partial DNA markers obtained from the shattered glass said it could be either one of them; the sketch Shari had given suggested both; witnesses placed both men at the hotel. The defense attorney would have a credible argument for reasonable doubt regardless of which man they attempted to convict.

They would never get a conviction on Connor if all they had unique to him was the fact he was left-handed. Frank had the criminal record; Connor didn't. And if they tried to convict Frank, his attorney could reasonably argue the shooter had been Connor.

They had to find direct physical evidence. Or they had to get either Connor or Frank to cut a deal and talk. Because the option was unacceptable. A conviction would rise or fall on Sharig eyewitness testimony. And that would place Shari's life in grave danger.

Marcus pulled out the sketch he had done from her description of the shooter and turned the reading light back on. A few subtle changes and it matched Frank. A few others, and it was Connor.

What if Shari couldn't pick out the shooter from the photo lineup? For the sake of the case he hoped she could.

For the sake of her safety, he hoped she couldn't. He wanted her removed as a factor in this case.

He was concerned about how she would react when she heard the news they had a suspect, learned the crushing news they might not have the evidence to convict. If the worst happened-an acquittal, a hung jury-it would destroy her. And he didn't want to see the glimmer of fear in her eyes when she looked at the photo of the man who had tried to kill her.

Put it aside. There is nothing you can do but deal with it as it comes.

He wanted to protect Shari from what was coming and could only ensure he was there when she had to deal with it.

He hesitated for a moment, and reached over to his suit jacket. From the inside pocket he removed the slim book-a New Testament plus Psalms and Proverbs-that Jennifer had given him. He'd read the passage she had marked in Luke on the flight to Chicago, gone on to thumb through the text and read words that were familiar to him from his childhood.

He could remember his mother reading him the stories from Luke. This was the last moment of quiet he would have for several chaotic days. He owed Shari a decisionl he owed himself a decision about Jesus, about prayer. The turmoil he felt didn't set well. And while this issue remained between them, he and Shari would remain at best cautious friends.

He couldn't afford to make the wrong decision. He knew how profound his life would change no matter what he decided. If he chose to again believe, to lay aside the doubts, it might give him a future with Shari, but it would create a sense of turmoil within the family. It would make it very hard for Rachel, Lisa, Jack, and Stephen not to feel a sense of discomfort over the fact they didn't believe.

He had been the leader of the O'Malleys for over two decades. He knew what it meant to look out for the family-be there to comfort, provide for them, support, solve problems, see trouble coming and head it off, bail them out after a mistake, keep the peace, love them. He couldn't afford to make the wrong decision. He couldn't walk them down a road to being hurt. He wouldn't shake that sense of family unity without being absolutely certain it was the right decision to make.

Jesus said He wanted to be Lord. He said, Eollow Me.' Marcus could feel the clarion call of that order and its absoluteness. It was one of the unfortunate realities with religion, there was no middle ground. He believed and followed or he didn't.

Marcus had no practice with prayer since he was a child, and it felt awkward.

Jesus, You're asking a lot of me. It would mean trusting the O'Malleys to You. Not to mention Shari.

He could admit to himself he was worried. Who would look out for the O'Malleys if something happened to him? He had no illusions about the coming danger. When Connor knew they were after him, when Titus did-arrests would not be made without risk.

If something happened to him, who would keep Lisa out of trouble? Who would give Rachel a hug?

Who would talk to Kate in the middle of the night when she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders?

Who would ensure Jennifer got everything possible to help her get well?

Who would be the older brother Stephen and Jack needed behind them?

Jesus, I need You to value what I value. Is it wrong to want that? This family needs a good strong leader Trusting You for me is one thing, for them is something larger and deeper From his childhood came the memories of intense tears, and the unexpected rush of emotions had him clenching his jaw. The pain crashed back with a furor.

Jesus, I've got only one question really How do You reconcile a child being abandoned by a loving God? I believed in You once, and Igor crushed when mom died. That's the pain You have to deal with if I am to accept again Your statement that You love me. If I'm to trust You.

He wanted to be optimistic. But he wasn't walking into a land mine of disappointment again. The last words his mom had told him from her hospital bed as she held his hand in hers, in a grip so soft his hold on hers had been the stronger one, her last words had been the whispered ones: "Jesus loves you." His mom had died that night. Shari said a child couldn't have the same perspective as an adult. Maybe not. But a child was not as easily fooled by words. They saw actions.

He closed the New Testament and slipped it back into his pocket. He wasn't sure what he expected, what he wanted to know or see happen to settle his questions. There was an honest willingness to consider believing in God again. But he didn't know what he sought, what the reassurance was he needed to have.

Circumstances demanded that the issue slide to the background for the next several days. He was almost grateful.

The plane touched down in the darkness.

It was a silent drive to the lake house. Marcus saw lights on in the den as the car curved around the drive. Had Shari waited up for them to arrive? It wouldn't surprise him. Marcus retrieved his suit jacket and briefcase but left the one piece of carry-on luggage in the trunk. They would not be here for long, regardless of the outcome of the photograph lineup; the only question was their destination. He didn't want to be away, but Luke could manage security here.

Marcus followed Dave and Quinn around the driveway to the porch and walked into the house as Shari came from the den. It was so good to see her, and her smile.., it was like coming home. She didn't hide the fact she was glad to see him, and in another situation, he would have reached out his arm to gather her into a hug. He wished he wasn't going to be erasing that smile with his words.

"I didn't think you would be back tonight. Dave, Quinn-it's great to see you." She looked back at him. "How's Jennifer?"

Her words threw him back a day to the reason he had originally left. It didn't feel like it had been only a day since he had seen Jennifer. "She's doing pretty good, all things considered. She's picked out her wedding dress," he offered with a smile, then turned serious. "Shari, would you wake up your brother?"

She looked from Marcus to the others, her expression growing still. "What is it?"

"After your brother is here."

She hesitated, then nodded and moved upstairs to wake Joshua.

Her brother and mom joined them in the den five minutes later. Shari didn't sit down, stopping instead just inside the door.

"What is it?" Her voice was steady, but she was twisting her fingers together.

"We've got a photo spread for you to look at," Marcus replied, watching her accept the news. He nodded to Dave, who opened the folder he carried and set down the prepared photograph spread on the desk. There were eight pictures in it, all chosen to look similar. Two of them were Frank and Connor.

Shari stepped toward the desk.

Marcus watched her face for a reaction as she looked down; he saw the shock hit. "That's him." She looked up at him, her gaze startled. "How did you-"

"Who, Shari?" Dave prompted.

Without hesitation she put her finger down on Connor. "He lost the hair and mustache."

Quinn looked over at Marcus.

"Call the pilot and tell him we're flying out tonight," Marcus told Quinn. "I want to be in New York by dawn."

Shari turned toward him, and he could see the fire in her eyes. "Who is he?"

"He'S just a suspect at this point. It's best you don't know until we investigate further."

"Marcus, I know this is him. Why did he kill Carl? Why did he kill my father?"

Marcus looked at Joshua, at Beth, and then told Shari the basics. "It may have something to do with the Daniel Gray case."

That news rocked her. "The death penalty case. Over a decade ago."

"Yes."

"Not the Supreme Court short list. Not my brief."

He should have realized the relief that would be. He crossed to her side, reached for her hands. "No."

"You're going after him."

She wasn't saying she was afraid for him, but it was written all over her face. "Yes, we are. I don't know how long we will be gone."

Her hands came up to grasp his. "Marcus, be careful."

There were moments where caution didn't fit. He leaned down and kissed her. "I'll be careful. That's a promise."

She leaned against him, hugging him tight, and then she stepped back and looked over at Quinn. "Make him keep his word."

Quinn laughed. "Yes, ma'am."

"We need ideas; that place is a fortress," Marcus observed. Connor's home had full security, roving guards, and driveways leaving from three different sides of the grounds. By the time they served the search warrant, got access, and secured the grounds, Connor could destroy a lot of evidence and possibly even slip the grounds. And that was assuming they were not met with violence. They couldn't predict how the man would react when confronted. He had killed a judge; he didn't have anything to lose.

"We can serve him at his office."

"Walking into a law firm and arresting one of their partners will be like waving a red flag at their profession."