Michael was clearly troubled. Another casualty. Perhaps Myers left something crucial behind. BJC had no experience in matters such as these. Where were the real cops? He took a sip of coffee from a paper cup and said, "You know, Lacy, if Dubose is behind this, then they know that the complaint against McDover was signed by a guy who has been neutralized. Game over, Lacy. We cannot proceed without the complaining party."

"Let's worry about that tomorrow, please. Right now we need to get Carlita and whatever Myers might have left behind."

"It's over, Lacy."

"No, it's not, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"So I've heard."

"Here's an idea, Michael. You and Gunther buzz down to Key Largo together and get her. The weather is perfect. He says the airplane holds four passengers. An easy trip."

"I don't like small airplanes."

"You don't like big ones either. Man up, Michael. You'll be back before you know it. We're not breaking any laws here. Just a quick flight down there, get her, drop her off somewhere, and you're back home."

"And I'm stuck with Gunther for four hours in a small airplane?"

"I know, I know, but you know it's important."

"Why bother, Lacy? This file is about to be closed."

"Not if the FBI gets involved. When they find out a key witness has vanished, they might change their minds."

"Sounds pretty desperate."

"That's because we are desperate."

Michael took a deep breath and shook his head in frustration. "I can't go. We're having a small party for my mother-in-law this afternoon. It's her ninetieth birthday."

"Then I'm going. I swear we'll be safe. Look, it's just a nice little flight on a beautiful Sunday. It's my day off. If I want to go flying, who can stop me?"

"I'll authorize you to go on one condition: You cannot get near the boat. If someone is watching, then that someone might recognize you. No one knows Gunther, but that's not the case for you. Make sure you get possession of Myers's papers, phones, and laptop. She knows you and she'll trust you more than your brother. Who wouldn't? Anyway, drop her off along the way, give her some money for a cab or a bus, and make sure she understands that she talks to no one."

Lacy was already headed for the door. "Got it, Michael."

- An hour later, they lifted off from the Tallahassee airport in the Beech Baron. Gunther, seizing the moment and thrilled with the adventure, sat in the left seat and flew the airplane. Lacy, with headphones, sat beside him and was captivated by the chatter between the controllers and the traffic. They headed almost due south and were soon over the Gulf. At nine thousand feet they leveled off and hit their maximum speed of 230 miles per hour. The din of the piston engines eased somewhat, though the cabin was far noisier than Lacy had ever experienced.

After two hours, they began to descend, and Lacy took in the view of the ocean and the islands. They touched down at 11:40. Gunther had called ahead for a courtesy car at general aviation. He drove and Lacy navigated from a tourist map. Cooley was still somewhere around Tallahassee and talking to Carlita. As they approached the Key Largo Harbor Marina, Cooley gave Gunther her number to facilitate the pickup. The harbor was busy with sailors heading out to sea and fishing boats arriving with their morning catches. A dive boat had just docked and a dozen divers were unloading their gear. Lacy stayed in the car and watched everything as Gunther strolled along the dock, just killing time and admiring boats. Carlita stepped off the Conspirator and managed to smile as if all was well. She had three bags: a backpack, a nylon sack stuffed with what appeared to be clothing, and Myers's olive courier bag. Gunther grabbed two of them and they casually walked back to the parking lot. In the car, Lacy scanned the entire marina and saw no one who appeared to be watching them. Carlita was thrilled to see her, a familiar face.

Gunther, always quick with an opinion, believed that after five days with no contact whatsoever, the people responsible for Myers's disappearance were long gone. If they had wanted to chat with Carlita or rummage through the boat, they would have made a move before now. An hour after leaving the airport, they returned to general aviation, quickly loaded the Baron, and took off at 1:15. Lacy called Geismar but he did not answer. Must be partying with his mother-in-law. She sent a text saying the mission was accomplished.

Lacy and Carlita sat in the rear of the cabin, close together. Once airborne, Carlita began crying. Lacy held her hand and assured her she was now safe. Carlita wanted to know if Lacy had heard anything about Myers. No, there had been no word. Nothing at all. What would happen to the boat? Lacy said she wasn't sure. The plan was to notify the authorities that Greg Myers was missing and let them go about their business. She quizzed Carlita about the boat: How long had she been living on it? Where did Myers buy it, or lease it? Did he own it outright or was a bank involved? Did anyone else ever visit them on the boat?

She knew very little. She had been living on it for about a year, but knew nothing of where it came from. Myers, she said, did not talk about his business. Occasionally, he would go ashore to meet someone but always returned within an hour. He was extremely careful, and fearful. He did not make mistakes. When he disappeared he was just going to the marina for a drink, nothing more. He was not supposed to be meeting anyone. He simply vanished.

When they leveled off and Key Largo was far behind, Carlita stopped the tears and grew quiet. Lacy asked if they could keep the courier bag and the backpack. Carlita said sure, she wanted no part of his paperwork. She said Myers had been careful about what he left on the boat because it could be searched, either by the bad guys or by the authorities. Using the postal service, never the overnight delivery services, he'd sent a lot of paperwork to his brother in Myrtle Beach. She was not sure what he'd left behind on the boat but was pretty sure it was not important.

An hour later, they landed in Sarasota. Gunther had called ahead for a cab, and Lacy handed Carlita enough money to get to her place in Tampa. Lacy thanked her and hugged her and said good-bye, knowing she would never see her again.

Back in the air, with Gunther occupied with flying, Lacy opened the courier bag. She pulled out Myers's thin laptop and turned it on, but was stopped at the pass code. She found a prepaid cell phone and some files. One contained the boat's registration, to a company in the Bahamas, along with warranties, operating procedures, and a thick stack of fine print about insurance. Another file was filled with old cases involving corrupt judges. Lacy found not a single word about McDover, the Tappacola, Cooley, the mole, or herself. The backpack was just as clean; nothing but old research and newspaper clippings about Ramsey Mix, a.k.a. Greg Myers. Evidently, he kept the current materials somewhere onshore, at least the written ones. She suspected his laptop was loaded with evidence that could have been devastating in the wrong hands.

When they landed in Tallahassee, Lacy was hoping Gunther might simply stay on the plane and continue back to Atlanta. Apparently, that never crossed his mind. As they drove to her apartment, it became clear that Gunther now considered himself an active member of the BJC investigative team. He planned to stay a few more days, to keep an eye on his sister.

Lacy called Geismar again with a full update. They agreed to meet early Monday morning. Late in the afternoon, as Gunther paced around her terrace calling one partner or lawyer or accountant or banker after another, Lacy was returning e-mails when she got a surprise from Allie Pacheco. His text was simply "Got time for a drink?"

She responded, "Unofficial, after hours, no business?"

He replied, "Of course."

But business was exactly what she had in mind. She invited him to her apartment, warned him that her brother was there and that things would not be that private.

Pacheco arrived in shorts and a polo at 7:30. Lacy poured him a beer and introduced him to Gunther, who wanted to grill him. The unofficial status of the little rendezvous lasted for about five minutes, until Gunther blurted, "We gotta talk about Myers."

Pacheco put down his glass, looked at Lacy, and asked, "Okay, what's up with Myers?"

"He's been missing for five days," she said. "That's his laptop on the counter. We got it off his boat this morning in Key Largo."

"It's a long story," Gunther said.

Pacheco stared at both of them. He raised both hands, showed them his palms, said, "This is way off-limits, okay? Tell me all you can tell me, then I'll decide what to do with it."

Gunther was remarkably quiet as Lacy told the story.

- Sipping his second beer, Pacheco finally said, "The boat needs to be secured, and to do that the police need to be notified. There's no federal issue here, not yet anyway, so we can't do it."

"But you can notify the police, right?" Lacy asked. "I'd rather not make the call, because then I would have to answer a lot of questions. I'd rather not have my name attached to a missing person case."

"You're already attached to it because you have his laptop and files."

"But they have nothing to do with his disappearance."

"You don't know that. You don't know what's in the laptop. There may be a trail there, some reference to a meeting the day he disappeared."

"Great," Gunther said. "We'll give it to you, everything, and you give it to the police. They'll take things far more seriously if they're notified by the FBI."

"That might work," Pacheco said. "Is there a chance Myers simply walked away? Given his past, and his present, that's not completely far-fetched."

Lacy said, "Sure, I've thought about it. Maybe something frightened him. Maybe he got tired of the boat, or the woman, or both, and decided to vanish. He was at least thinking about dropping the complaint. When he came here to my apartment, he offered to drop it and walk away. He was sorry about Hugo, blamed himself, and said he wished he'd never started all this. He could have ditched the records, scrubbed his computer, and hit the road."

"You don't believe that," Gunther said.

"No, I don't. I've had this conversation with Cooley, and he'll never be convinced that Myers would run and hide again. Myers needs the money. He's an ex-con who's sixty years old and without much of a future. He was banking on a huge windfall from the whistle-blower statute. He knew that law inside and out and was already counting his money. He believed McDover and Dubose have stolen tens of millions and that a lot of the money can be recovered. I don't know how he paid for the boat but he was very proud of it. He loved island hopping and puttering around the Keys. He was a happy guy about to strike it rich. So, no, I don't think he walked away."

Pacheco said, "Well, the disappearance is now five days old and the investigation has not even started. That makes for an awfully cold trail."

"And there's nothing the FBI can do?" Gunther asked.

"Not really. The locals have to go in first. If there's a kidnapping or something like that, they could call us. But I doubt it. Frankly, I'd say the chances of finding Myers alive are pretty slim."

"All the more reason to go after Dubose," Lacy said.

"I agree, but I'm not making that decision."

"How many more dead folks do you need?" Gunther asked.

"Again, it's not my decision. Lacy can tell you that I would have jumped in a week ago." Gunther stormed out of the room and returned to his terrace.

"Sorry," Lacy said.

Pacheco had entered her apartment with thoughts of a pleasant drink with a pretty lady. He left with Myers's courier bag and backpack and no clear idea of what to do next.

28.

Lacy awoke early Monday morning with a new plan to get rid of her brother. It would take a trip to death row, a place he would not be welcome. And she would go by herself because the rules at BJC simply could not be bent enough to allow him to tag along. She rehearsed her story as the coffee brewed. She was pleasantly surprised when he appeared freshly showered and fully dressed. Not surprisingly, a deal was collapsing and he informed her he was needed at home. Indeed, he barely had enough time to devour a piece of toast before they hustled out the door and to her car. At the airport she thanked him again and made sure he promised to return. As the Beech lifted off, she smiled and took a deep breath and was thankful she was not on it.

At the office, she met with Michael and described in detail the trip to Key Largo. She detailed the contents of Myers's courier bag and backpack, and explained that they, along with his laptop, were in the possession of the FBI.

"You met with the FBI?" Michael asked, irritated.

"Pacheco has the hots for me and he stopped by yesterday for a drink. One thing led to another, and, with Gunther's eager assistance, we got around to discussing Myers. Pacheco agreed to contact the police and report him missing. He thought it best if the FBI had possession of the stuff from the boat."

"Please tell me your brother is leaving town."

"Already gone, left this morning."

"Thank heavens. Please tell me, Lacy, that he can keep his mouth shut."

"Don't worry. No one in Atlanta cares, and, besides, he will always do what's best for me. Relax."

"Relax? This is the biggest case in our history and it's collapsing on all fronts. I don't suppose you've heard from Killebrew."

"No, and I don't expect to. They have eighteen days left to respond, and I'm sure they'll play it cool until the last minute. Any excitement on their part would be premature and might tip their hand. They're too smart to contact us now. The subpoena was served last Friday and I'm sure they're mulling it over."

"All we can do is wait."

"I can't sit around, Michael. I'm going to see Junior Mace on death row. Just want you to know my whereabouts."

"Didn't realize you represented Junior Mace."

"Of course I don't, but I promised to visit him. His D.C. lawyers will meet with him this afternoon. Salzman, the lead counsel, invited me to sit in. Junior doesn't mind. He likes me."

"Don't get too close."

"Salzman is confident that it will be delayed. If the snitch comes through and recants his testimony, Salzman thinks they stop the execution and maybe even get a new trial."

"A new trial, after, what, fifteen years?"

"Something like that."

"And where, exactly, do you fit in?"

"I didn't say I fit in. Let's just say I don't want to sit around the office all day. Besides, Junior Mace's wrongful conviction is part of the grand conspiracy. If it is set aside, new evidence might be discovered. If we assume the trail leads back to Dubose, then things could unravel. It's important for us to monitor his case."

"Just be careful, please."

"Death row is a pretty safe place, Michael."

"If you say so."

- Lacy closed her office door and retrieved a thick file filled with Sadelle's memos. She removed one from the stack and read it again. Titled "The Murders of Son Razko and Eileen Mace," it read, Junior and Eileen Mace lived with their three children in a wood-framed house on Tinley Road, roughly two miles from the Tappacola reservation. (At the time about half of the Tappacola lived on tribal land, with many others scattered close by. About 80 percent lived in Brunswick County, but some lived as far away as Jacksonville.) On the afternoon of January 17, 1995, while their three children were in school, Son Razko paid a visit to the Mace home. Razko and Junior Mace were friends and had led the opposition to the casino. Junior was driving a truck for a company out of Moreville, Florida, and was at work. If Son and Eileen were having an affair, then the purpose of his visit was obvious. If they were not, then it has never been known what prompted the visit. At any rate, they were found naked and dead in the bedroom by the oldest child when he got home from school, at about 4:00 in the afternoon. A pathologist testifying for the State estimated the time of death at somewhere between 2:00 p.m. and 3:00 p.m.

Junior was known to drink, and after making his deliveries he returned to the warehouse in Moreville, got in his truck, and stopped by a bar. He had a couple of beers and threw some darts with a man who has never been identified. At around 6:30 p.m. he was found in the parking lot, near his truck, unconscious and presumably drunk. The weapon used in the two murders was an unregistered Smith and Wesson .38 snub-nosed revolver. It was found under the seat of Junior's truck, along with a wallet belonging to Son. Mace was taken to the hospital in Moreville. The police, acting on an anonymous tip, went to the hospital and broke the news about his wife and Son. He spent the night in the hospital before being transported to jail. He was charged with both murders and was not allowed to attend the funeral of his wife. He maintained his innocence but no one listened.

At his trial, which was moved by Judge Claudia McDover from Brunswick County to Panama City, Mace presented two alibi witnesses who worked for businesses where he had made deliveries that afternoon. The first witness placed him about thirty miles from the scene of the crime between 2:00 p.m. and 3:00 p.m. The second witness placed him about fifteen miles away. Judging from the trial transcript, neither witness was particularly effective, and the prosecutor made much of the fact that Junior could have possibly made the two deliveries and still had time to stop by his house between 2:00 and 3:00. It was never clear how he could have parked his semi-rig, got into his pickup, drove home, killed two people, then switched trucks again.

The State relied heavily on the testimony of two jailhouse informants-Todd Short and Digger Robles. Both testified that they had shared a cell with Junior at various times, and that he openly bragged of catching his wife in bed with another man and shooting both of them. In testimony that was remarkably similar, they told the jury that Junior was proud of what he'd done, had no remorse, and couldn't understand why he was being prosecuted. (According to hearsay and local lore, both snitches disappeared from the area not long after the trial.) The presence of Son's wallet in Junior's truck was crucial. Under Florida law, a capital case must include murder, obviously, but another crime as well-rape, burglary, kidnapping, and so on. Thus, the fact that Junior stole the wallet elevated the case from first-degree murder to capital murder.

The presence of the gun in Junior's truck was fatal to his defense. Ballistics experts from the State crime lab testified that there was no doubt the bullets removed from the bodies were fired by the .38-caliber revolver.

Against the advice of counsel (Junior's defense lawyer was a court-appointed rookie handling his first capital case) Junior took the stand in his own defense. He vehemently denied any involvement in the deaths of his wife and friend. He claimed he was being framed in retaliation for his opposition to the casino. He said someone spiked his beer at the bar, that he drank only three of them, then blacked out and did not remember leaving the bar. The bartender testified that he had at least three beers and that he, the bartender, helped Junior to his truck and left him there.

On the stand, it appears from the trial transcript that Junior handled himself with dignity, though the cross-examination was lengthy.

With the gun, the wallet, two informants, a defense that relied on two shaky alibi witnesses, and a defendant who was apparently drunk and didn't remember much, the jury had enough for a conviction. During the sentencing phase, Junior's lawyer called his brother Wilton and a cousin, both of whom testified that Junior was a devoted husband and father, was not a heavy drinker, did not own a gun, and had not fired one in years.

The jury returned two death verdicts.

Throughout the eight-day trial, Judge McDover, who was presiding over her first capital murder trial, favored the prosecution on virtually every issue. Only in agreeing to change venue did she show any concern for the rights of Mace. She gave the State's witnesses great latitude with their testimony and continually overruled objections by the defense. With the defense witnesses, she sustained almost every objection by the prosecution. Her handling of the trial has been repeatedly attacked on appeal, and some concerns have been noted in various appellate rulings. However, the courts have continually upheld the convictions.

- Throughout the two-and-a-half-hour drive to the prison, Lacy's thoughts were on Hugo. Less than two months earlier, they had made this trip together, both sleep deprived and slugging coffee to stay awake. They had discussed their distrust of Greg Myers and their reluctance to indulge his theory of a grand conspiracy. They had admitted the sense of danger they felt.

They had been so naive.

She entered Bradford County and followed the signs to Starke, then to the prison. It took half an hour to make her way to Q Wing. It was noon Monday, and no other attorneys were there. She waited in a small conference room for fifteen minutes until Junior appeared in chains. His guards unshackled him and he took his seat on the other side of the plastic wall. He took his receiver, smiled, said, "Thanks for coming."

"Hello, Junior. It's good to see you again."

"You look good, Lacy, in spite of what happened. I trust your injuries are healing."

"Well, my hair is growing and that's all that matters."

He chuckled at this. He was more animated, more eager to talk. Lacy assumed he was awaiting the arrival of his D.C. lawyers with great anticipation. For the first time in many years, there was hope.