Dawn picked up the heavy tray. "I have to take this out," she said.

"I'll take it out for you," said Tess.

Dawn's shoulders seemed to slump. She set the tray back down. "Thank you. I'm tired," said Dawn. "I think I'll sit down."

"Why don't you?" said Tess. "Sit down and rest." Dawn turned her back on Tess and sat down in the breakfast nook. Tess carried the heavy tray carefully out through the dining room and into the comfortable sitting room where the afternoon tea was always served. A couple was seated in front of the fire and both of them looked up as Tess walked in.

"Oh good," said the woman, setting down her magazine and getting up. "I could use a pick-me-up."

Her husband, who was wearing well-worn corduroys and an expensive golf sweater, said to Tess, "Do you spike that stuff?"

Tess forced herself to smile as she set down the tray. "We don't, but you may."

The man turned to his wife. "Did you hear that? I told you I should bring my flask on this trip."

His wife shook her head, smiling. Tess excused herself and left the room. She started back toward the kitchen when the front door opened behind her and a man came in wearing an Irish tweed hat and a beige raincoat.

"It's gotten nasty out there, hasn't it?" Tess asked.

"Sure has," said the man pleasantly. "I don't want to mess up your rug."

"It's all right. These rugs can take it. Can I help you?"

The man opened his coat, reached into his pants pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief. He removed his gla.s.ses, gave them a quick swipe, and then put them back on. Then he began to fumble in the inner pocket of the raincoat.

"I'm looking for Tessa DeGraff," the man said.

"That's me," said Tess.

The man drew a manilla envelope out of the inside pocket of the coat and handed it to her.

Tess reached out and took it, frowning.

"You've been served," the man said. Before Tess could reply, he turned, opened the front door again, and went out. "Have a nice day," he said.

"What...?" Tess tore open the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. She scanned the first few pages. It did not take her long to realize what the legal doc.u.ments meant. The papers informed her that she was being sued for damages in civil court by Nelson and Edith Abbott for the wrongful death of their son, Lazarus.

Wrongful death...Tess felt as if she had been punched in the gut. She thought about her encounter with Nelson on the street and the way he had maundered on about getting justice for Lazarus. Justice for Lazarus, indeed, Tess thought. What he really meant was that he saw an opportunity for a great big financial settlement for himself. What had begun as a vague feeling of dislike for Nelson Abbott was now cementing itself into emnity in her mind.

Tess crushed the legal papers in her fist. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she muttered. But she wasn't referring to Nelson Abbott. She was thinking of Ben Ramsey. It was pointless to deny to herself that she found him attractive. And despite their clash over the execution of Lazarus Abbott, she had felt a certain respect for his principles. But this...this was something else again. How could he have acted so sympathetically when all the while he was getting ready to file this lawsuit against her? It pained her to think that she had considered trusting him while he was planning to betray her. Tess looked at her watch and jammed the stapled sheaf of papers into her pocketbook, pulled an umbrella from the porcelain stand by the door, and checked to be sure she had the car keys. She walked back and poked her head into the kitchen. Dawn was still seated there, staring into the gloom.

"Mom, I'm going out. Will you keep an eye on Erny for me?"

Dawn looked around. "Where are you going?"

Part of Tess wanted to pull the legal papers out and show her mother, but she could see the weariness, the sadness in Dawn's eyes. It would be one more thing for her mother to worry about. One more thing she didn't deserve to have on her mind.

"I just have to take care of something," said Tess.

CHAPTER 15.

Even in the rain, it was easy to find the law offices of Cottrell and Wayne. Ben had pointed his office out to her only hours earlier when he drove her back to town, explaining that he was not yet a partner because he had only worked with the firm for a year. But he had the office pretty much to himself, for Cottrell now had emeritus status and Wayne divided his time between New Hampshire and his vacation home in Florida. The office was off the town square and the building must, at one time, have been a private home. Tess walked into the neatly tended building, through a carpeted vestibule and waiting area, and up to the desk of the middle-aged receptionist seated behind a bank of family photos and a dusty bowl of fake flowers. She was eating a snack cake and drinking a mug of coffee. "I'm here to see Mr. Ramsey," Tess announced.

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked pleasantly.

"No, but please tell him that Miss DeGraff needs to see him right now."

The woman hesitated, as if taken aback by the irregularity of the request, but then, possibly in a desire to get back to her snack cake, she buzzed Ben Ramsey's office and then told Tess to go in. "Third door down the hall on the left, dear," she said.

Tess marched down the hall and burst into Ben's decorless, book-lined office. Ben, still in his tie but with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, was seated at his desk. He looked up at her, his eyes alight, and then his smile faded at the sight of her face.

"You know," she began without preamble, "you have a lot of nerve doing this to me. I guess it's all about the money with you."

"What?" he cried. "Doing what?"

"Don't play dumb. This morning you were all about the ethics."

Ben stood up behind his desk and faced her squarely. "Hold it. What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

Tess was surprised by his reaction. She had to admit to herself that he looked clueless. "The lawsuit," she said.

Ben shook his head, as if to say that he still didn't understand.

"The lawsuit you filed against me for the Abbotts. The papers just arrived."

Ben picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desktop. "I didn't file any lawsuit against you," he said.

"You didn't," she said skeptically.

"No. I didn't. Did you check the letterhead? Because it certainly wasn't mine." Tess hadn't actually looked at the letterhead. She had simply a.s.sumed that the Abbotts would bring all their legal business to Ben.

Tess's indignation faltered. "No," she admitted. "Just a minute. The papers are in my bag." She put her purse down on his desktop and rummaged around in it. She pulled the papers from her bag and looked at the letterhead. Her cheeks flamed. She shook her head.

"Can I see?" he asked.

Mutely, Tess handed him the doc.u.ment. Ben looked at the letterhead and then scanned the doc.u.ment. She expected him to reproach her for jumping to a hasty conclusion. Instead, he shook his head. "Wrongful death? That's a stretch."

"Why do you say that?" Tess asked.

"For one thing, the statute of limitations has run out on a wrongful death claim." Then he frowned. "They're probably going to argue that the statute of limitations needs to be adjusted because of the DNA results. It's...creative. I'll give them that."

"How come they didn't come to you for this?"

Ben frowned. "I suspect this attorney approached them. This firm is from North Conway. They specialize in civil suits. The attorney probably followed the case on the news and called them to suggest the suit. These civil suit guys...there's no end to their...creativity when it comes to blame."

"Sorry," she murmured, humiliated.

Ben handed the papers back to her, unsmiling. "Natural enough mistake, I guess."

"Do they have a case?" she asked.

Ben shook his head. "Against you? Well, civil suits are not my specialty. But no jury is going to see this as your fault."

"I hope you're right," she said.

"Of course, a crafty attorney can keep one of these suits dragging on for years. And Nelson Abbott is just the kind of client they love. Self-righteous and mean-spirited."

Tess nodded, feeling both embarra.s.sed and chastened. She wanted to retreat as hastily, if not gracefully, as possible. "I'm very sorry...Ben. I...I know you're busy. I really am sorry...let me just get out of your hair."

Ben resumed his seat behind the desk. "You're not in my hair. I'm glad you came. Especially since that has nothing to do with me," he said, pointing his pencil at her pocketbook.

Tess nodded.

"You will need to get yourself an attorney, though," he said. "To fight this."

Tess shrugged. "Interested?" she asked.

Ben shook his head. "Not my area of expertise. And it could be a conflict of interest. But I can recommend my senior partner..."

"I have an attorney at home. He handled my adoption of Erny. I'll call him and send him the papers."

"You might want to have somebody here in town," he said.

"I'll be fine," she insisted stiffly. "I don't want to take up any more of your time." She pulled tight the belt on her coat. "Thanks," she said, turning to leave.

"Wait. Don't go," he said.

Tess frowned at him. "Why not?"

Tess thought she noticed his face color slightly. "The fact is," he said, "I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking about what you said earlier."

"What I said?" Tess asked.

"Yes. Do you have a minute?"

Tess nodded.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the client's chair. Tess hesitated and then sat down.

"After I got back to the office, I was thinking about what you said about Lazarus having an accomplice."

"This morning you accused me of clinging to that idea so that I could still blame Lazarus."

"I asked you if that was a possibility," Ben said. "I didn't say it was a bad idea."

"Wait a minute," she said, holding her forehead. "It's a conflict of interest for you to represent me, but you want to talk about whether or not Lazarus had an accomplice?"

"Lazarus wasn't my client," he said.

"That's splitting hairs," she said.

"Not to my mind," he said. "We're just...friends, having a conversation."

Tess tilted her head and studied him. She had noted his hesitation on the word "friends" but she wasn't about to mention it. "Does this mean that you think there might be something to the accomplice idea?" she asked.

"Well, if we a.s.sume that you were right in your identification of Lazarus..."

"You're a.s.suming I was right?" she cried.

"Just for argument's sake," he said.

"Ah," said Tess calmly. But she felt almost giddy with surprise and...grat.i.tude.

"It would explain the DNA discrepancy," said Ben. "I was doing some research this afternoon. The experts seem to agree that in a pair of killers there is usually a dominant personality and a subservient one. The subservient one is in some kind of thrall to the dominant one. The dominant one can be cruel and controlling. It's very often a relationship based on fear. Now, if there was such a pair at work here, it's unlikely that Lazarus was the dominant one. He would have been the pa.s.sive one, the follower. Doing the bidding of the other."

Instantly, as he spoke, a face appeared in Tess's mind's eye and she blanched.

"What?" he asked.

"I was just thinking. According to the sentencing phase of the trial transcript, and what I've heard from everyone else, Lazarus was a loner who had no friends. He didn't have dealings with anyone outside the family."

"That doesn't mean that he didn't have any relationships-"

"Wait, hear me out," said Tess.

Ben nodded.

"Now, apparently, his only occupation was working for his stepfather, Nelson Abbott. And Nelson Abbott was always angry at him. He abused him for years."

"That's true. n.o.body ever said that Lazarus...wait a minute." Ben peered at her. "Are you suggesting...?"

Tess stared back at him.

"Not Nelson," Ben scoffed.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Well, for one thing, Nelson has no record as a s.e.xual predator."

"Yes, but he's got a history of violent behavior in his own family."