5

      “Hey, boss, you got a minute?”

      Jan looked up from her computer. It was Monday, mid-morning. She’d had another nightmare at three in the morning and hadn’t slept since. “Of course,” she told her assistant. “Come in.”

      Andrew, dressed impeccably as always, took one of the two seats in front of her desk.

      “I heard you met with Ruple over the weekend.”

      She’d figured word would get around. Flagstaff was a small town and Macy’s was a busy place. Or maybe Danny Ruple had said something.

      “I did, yes.”

      “Is he going to testify?”

      The fact that she even had to remind herself that this was Andrew, her handpicked professional soul mate, bothered her. She had to be careful, true, but a complete lack of trust wasn’t healthy.

      “I don’t know,” she said, slipping into the navy jacket she’d thrown off earlier. She had some footwork to do over lunch—recreating as much of the Zeidel file as she could, just in case. The only key witness, a roommate, was still in town and had agreed to talk to her. “He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no.”

      Frowning, Andrew shook his head and said, “I’m just sick about the missing file. You know I’ll do anything I can to help you rebuild the case, if he accepts your offer.”

      “Thanks.” Jan’s smile was almost genuine and her shoulders lightened. “I know your own caseload is heavy right now, and I promised you’d have time to be a father when the baby came…”

      “I’m always here for you, Jan. You know that.”

      A life that had gone a bit out of control started to make sense again. She had to remember what she knew—not lose herself in emotions that weren’t always accurate. Or trustworthy.

      “I think you’re about the only one who doesn’t think I’m crazy for going after Hall.”

      “I admire the hell out of you for it.” The truth of his words was reflected in his open gaze. “I hope to be just like you when I grow up.”

      “Hold it, buddy,” she chuckled. “I’m only five years older than you. You’re making me sound ancient.”

      “Sorry.” Andrew was grinning, too. “But I mean it. You’re the only one I know who consistently applies the ethics they taught us in law school to everyday life. You work for justice, not politics.”

      “There are a lot of us,” she told him, though she wasn’t as sure of that as she’d been even a couple years before. “But when people like the county attorney and the governor have the last say, and they’re elected officials, politics can’t help but play a part.”

      “And we end up with compromised justice.”

      Jan glanced at the news clipping she’d just pulled up on her computer—which only hinted at the gory details of Lorna Zeidel’s rape and murder two years before. “It’s when politics define justice that I have a problem.”

      Andrew leaned forward, resting an arm on the edge of her desk. “And it honestly doesn’t bother you that if you push this and lose, your professional reputation will suffer?”

      She shook her head. There were a lot of things bothering her. Her professional reputation wasn’t one of them. “My mother’s health bothers me. Hailey’s adoption bothers me. The young gang members who have nothing better to do than throw bricks through windows bother me.” My awareness of my neighbor’s presence bothers me. “I’m not sure why, but my career doesn’t. I think I’m on the right track.”

      “I don’t know how you do it.” Andrew expelled a long breath. “But I’m here to learn.”

      “You’re here to teach, too, my friend,” Jan told him. “You’re an excellent attorney. I’ve bowed to your opinion on more than one occasion.”

      “Maybe two.” He smiled and then sat back, his expression sober. “What’s this about your mother’s health? I thought she was doing well, keeping busy.”

      “She is.” Jan didn’t want to think about her mother right now. “I’m probably overreacting. Growing up with only one parent tends to make you a bit insecure where their existence is concerned.”

      “When was the last time you saw her?”

      “Less than twenty-four hours ago. I went down yesterday and took her to the Blue Adobe for dinner. We had cheese enchiladas and prickly pear margaritas and talked about a mah-jongg tournament she’s in.”

      “Sounds like she’s doing great.”

      Yeah. And Jan had just decided to go with what she knew and not with what she feared. To quit letting random feelings control her so much. Everyone had them—those insecurities that overwhelmed common sense. She just seemed to have to work harder than other people to keep hers at bay.

      By Thursday, Jan still had not heard from Danny Ruple. But she was using every spare minute she could find, in between directing the continued research into Jacob Hall’s potential fraud victims and maintaining her other cases, to study police reports on Lorna Zeidel—searching for the elusive clue that might at least get her a grand jury indictment.

      She’d had no word from her brother after his impromptu visit, but she’d had a quick visit with Hailey the night before. And not including Saturday, she had talked to Simon three times, twice at the mailbox and once when he was getting his paper in the morning.

      By the time she got home that night, she was just plain exhausted with life. She’d seen the It’s a Boy sign in the Thorntons’ front yard on her way to work that morning, and felt such regret at losing touch with her friendly neighbors that she’d gone out on her lunch hour and bought them a gift. But she sure didn’t feel like walking two houses down to drop it off.

      She didn’t want to, but as soon as she’d finished the toast and peanut butter she was having for dinner she did it anyway. And was rewarded with a greeting from Simon when she returned.

      “I brought the trash out and noticed yours wasn’t at the curb, so I thought I’d get it for you,” he said, meeting her at the end of her drive as dusk was starting to fall. Friday and Monday trash pickup had been part of her routine for years. Today, she would have forgotten.

      “My gate’s locked.”

      “As I discovered.” He walked along with her up to the house, looking so comfortable in khaki slacks and a flannel shirt with tails hanging out and sleeves rolled up past his wrists, that she wished she’d taken time to change out of the maroon skirt and jacket she’d worn to work.

      The clicking of her heels against pavement sounded loud in the early-evening silence.

      “You been