'Delivering justice,' she said.

He winced. 'Delivering justice along with newspapers? Pun not intended, huh.'

She smiled at him. 'No, totally intended.' She tipped her head, studying him, her smile disappearing. 'Will you continue using the paper to its fullest potential when all of this is over?'

Yes was on the tip of his tongue, but he pulled it back to reconsider. 'Will it bother you? Will you be able to look the other way, knowing we're bending the rules?'

'That wasn't what I meant. I was thinking more about the risks. Last night you all agreed that what happened to Phillip was an acceptable risk. I'm wondering if you'll think that in the light of day, especially if Phillip has any long-term physical issues . . . or dies.'

Again he opened his mouth to say yes, but again he paused to reconsider. 'I don't know about the others. I imagine they'll still be gung-ho. And I'm still fully committed to what we're doing. But I suppose I'm not making that decision for myself anymore. Yesterday morning I only had me to worry about. Now I have you. I don't want you having to sit in a waiting room wondering if I'm going to wake up. So the risk will have to be evaluated by the situation.'

The smile she gave him made his heart stutter in his chest. 'Thank you. I'm careful on the job, but I'll be doubly so from now on as well.' She worked out a few more tangles, then began to braid her hair. 'You know, you never did tell me about the gun you're so attached to.'

The one he'd hidden in her gun safe. He carried one of hers now.

She hesitated when he didn't answer. 'Is it okay to ask?'

'You can ask me anything you want.' He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. 'I guess it's easier to talk about now. The day after my father's body was found, the doorbell rang. Gayle was with Stone and Mom was sedated again, so I opened the door and there he was the scary guy. I thought, "Shit, he was lying after all", and started thinking about where I could run.'

'You're kidding? The enforcer came back?'

'He did. He told me not to worry, that he wasn't there to hurt us. Then he said, "It's done." I told him I'd heard. I told him I felt really guilty, that I shouldn't have told him where to find my father, but that I was glad my mother was safe. Then I asked him why he took him away from the cabin to the hotel and he actually looked embarrassed. Told me I didn't need to know stuff like that. That I was too young. Which, you know, kind of blew my mind. I'd helped him kill my father. I was plenty old enough.'

'You did not kill your father,' Scarlett said patiently.

'Yeah, well, the man said the same thing. Then he told me that my father used that hotel to meet "lady friends".'

She winced. 'Oh. So because your father had a history of going there to meet hookers, the police would buy the robbery setup.'

'He told me this like he was giving me a gift. Looking back, I realize that the truth about my father's role in our kidnapping would have whipped the media into a frenzy, and that would have hurt Stone, Mom and me, so it was for the best. There was a minor scandal and heads wagged, but it blew over quickly, mostly because my mother's father stepped in and spread the rumor that she'd already filed for divorce before the kidnapping. He made sure that my mother was described as a divorcee in the Ledger articles, rather than a widow. Ledger articles were quoted in other papers and soon everyone believed my mother had been divorced. The power of the press,' he added.

'So your mother didn't look like the pathetic cheated-on wife.'

'Exactly. Anyway, I told the hit-man that I still felt guilty for telling him where to find my father, and he said that he would have found the cabin in the public record eventually and gone hunting. Then he said, "When I said it was done, I mean it's all done. You don't have to worry about either of the other two guys ever coming back." It was like he really cared, which was strange. I guess in his eyes he'd righted a wrong. Then he said that they'd suffered for what they'd done to my brothers.' He exhaled heavily. 'And I was glad.'

'Me too. What about the money?'

'He said he got all but a few thousand that they'd blown on drugs. That his boss had been paid and the slate was clean.'

'But you still haven't told me about that damn gun.'

'I'm getting to it. After he told me about the kidnappers, he gave me a paper bag with that gun in it.'

'Holy shit. He gave you a gun? Why?'

'He said he'd found it with my father's things, saw my grandfather's name engraved on the grip and thought I might want to have it. I wanted to know if it was the gun that he'd used to kill them all, but I was afraid to ask. I wanted it to be and I didn't want it to be, all at once.'

'I think I can understand that. The gun symbolized justice, but also your freedom because they couldn't come back to get you. But I didn't see a name on the grip.'

'I scratched it off.' He gave her a sideways glance. 'At the same time that I scratched off the serial number.'

'You scratched them off? Why?'

'Because if it had been used to kill someone, I didn't want my grandfather to get dragged through the mud. He'd already been through enough.'

'You're a kind man. In a twisted sort of way. But I still can't believe he gave a gun to a little kid.'

'I know. I remember gazing up at this terrifying-looking man and saying, "Mister, you realize I'm only eight years old. I'm not even allowed to touch guns."'

Scarlett chuckled. 'What did he say?'

'He patted my head and said, "You won't always be eight, kid." Then he wished me luck and left. I shut the door and thought that was the end of it.' He drew a breath and let it out. 'And then I turned around and there was Gayle, stepping out of the shadows.'

'Shit. Busted big time.'

'She was pale and shaking and holding a rifle I didn't even know she owned. She thought the man was there to kidnap me and she was going to blow his head off. But when she saw I wasn't afraid, she listened to the conversation. She asked me why I'd done it. I told her everything, and she sat down on the floor and cried. Big, huge sobs. I hugged her, told her it would be all right. She said she was crying for me because I'd had to make that decision, because I'd felt so alone and had no one to help me. I thought she'd tell my mother, but she never did. She did take the gun away, though, and gave it to my grandfather when we moved to Ohio once Stone was able to travel. Mom sold the apartment in Lexington and never went back. My grandfather put the gun in his safe, but his combination was easy to guess.'

'The date of the liberation of Bataan?'

'You got it. When we moved to Cincinnati, I was still having nightmares. Stone's were worse, so I took the gun and slept with it under my pillow. My grandfather's house which now belongs to my mother has eight bedrooms, but Stone and I shared a room until I joined the Army. When he was really little, my having the gun made him feel better, knowing I could protect him. Later, he got his own guns.' He sighed. 'He has more weapons than a lot of small countries. Knows how to use them, too. He's a helluva shot and he has black belts in three different martial arts.'

She was quiet a long moment. 'Did you ever tell him what your father had done?'

'No. He was so fragile for so long that I didn't dare. But I did tell him that the men who hurt him were dead. I cut out the article from the newspaper and showed it to him.' Marcus swallowed hard. 'He slept with that article under his pillow until the paper disintegrated. I went to the library and downloaded a copy and laminated it at school. I don't know what he did with it after that.'

'You protect him.'

'He's my brother. He knows I carry a lot of guilt, but he thinks my hero complex is because I didn't save him from the men that hurt him. And because I couldn't save Matty. I've considered telling him a thousand times, but I always figure, what's the point? He has enough issues to work through.'

She was quiet for so long that he glanced over at her. 'You don't agree?' he asked.

She shrugged. 'He's your brother. But I suspect he may be stronger than you think. Anyway, back to the gun. Didn't your grandfather ever miss it out of his safe?'

Marcus smiled grimly. 'He knew. Who do you think taught me to shoot?'

She shook her head as if to clear it. 'He let an eight-year-old have a loaded gun? What kind of man was your grandfather?'

'A man who knew what it was like to fight with demons in your dreams. And he didn't let me have it. Not at first. He kept putting it back in the safe and I kept taking it out. He kept changing the combination and I kept figuring it out. Finally we came to an understanding that I wouldn't keep it loaded. He took the clip. He didn't know I'd hidden a loaded clip of my own.'

She frowned. 'That gun could have gone off in the middle of the night!'

'No, because I kept the gun under one pillow and the clip under the other. I practiced until I could load it in seconds. But I was careful. I didn't want Stone to get shot by mistake.'

She shook her head again, harder. 'I was thinking about it going off and shooting you in the middle of the night.'

He hesitated, then decided to trust her with the rest of it. 'I don't think I would have cared, Scarlett. There were times I almost hoped it would.'

She turned fully in her seat to face him and it took only a glance to see that all the color had drained from her beautiful face. 'What?' she whispered.

'I still wrestle with what I did that day. I know you think I'm absolved because of my age, but three people are dead who never got their day in court.'

'You think they deserved their day in court?'

'No, but my mother deserved to look her husband in the face and know that she wasn't to blame for Matty's death because she called in the FBI. I could never tell her.'

'Because if you'd told her, you'd have had to tell her what you did too. Oh, Marcus.'

'I made my bed. I've had to lie in it all these years. It's hard enough now that I'm old enough to process everything that happened, but then I was just a messed-up kid. The year I was nine, I came damn close to not seeing ten.'

'You wanted to kill yourself?' she asked in a trembling voice. 'When you were nine?'

He nodded gravely. 'But I never did. Partly because of Gayle. That she knew and still loved me . . . it made a difference. And partly because Stone still needed me. I couldn't leave him alone. But some days I wished for quiet in my mind because all I heard was killer, killer, killer.'

'How did you survive the Army? You had to have killed the enemy.'

'More than my share,' he murmured. 'The Army helped Stone conquer some of his fears. It helped me too. Because by the time I joined up, I was old enough to understand what I was doing and it helped me keep the perspective that the people who kidnapped Matty, Stone and me were the enemy. It helped me square it in my own mind. But it still haunts me. All of my kills do. That's one of the reasons we rarely get physical with the people we target at the Ledger. I draw the line at gentle coercion. Although recently . . . especially after Mikhail, it's been hard. I've found myself tempted so many times to just shoot the damn bastards and be done with it. Then they can't hurt their families again. But I've stayed on my side of the line. Just barely.'

She nodded unsteadily. 'Me too. So we'll prop each other up. But you have to promise me if you ever consider . . . ending yourself again-'

'I haven't,' he interrupted, 'not since I was ten. That's when Mom met Jeremy. We were a real family then. Mom was so happy. She got pregnant with Audrey and then we had a baby in the house again. Mom meeting Jeremy O'Bannion was the best thing to ever happen to us the dad he didn't have to be. He was only twenty-one when he met Mom. Only eleven years older than me. He could have taken the role of big brother, but he seemed to know how much I needed a father. And he's always been that for me.'

Scarlett wiped her eyes. 'I'm glad,' she said simply, then pointed at the road sign. 'This is the exit for Saint Barbara's. Remember, don't call me Detective.'

'I won't.' He didn't want to lie to the Bautistas, but he didn't want to scare them away either.

She smoothed her dress and checked the visor mirror. 'I look like I've been crying, but it makes me look like less of a cop, so the puffy eyes are okay.'

'You look beautiful.'

'Thank you. So do you. Do you need anything before we talk to Mila and Erica?'

He squeezed her hand. 'Just be with me.'

'Let anyone try to pry me away.'

Twenty-nine.

Georgetown, Kentucky

Wednesday 5 August, 8.40 A.M.

Scarlett and Marcus met Trace in the vestibule of Saint Barbara's. Scarlett had been nervous about seeing her uncle again, but Trace obliterated any nerves with a huge bear hug. She held on a few more seconds than she needed to, because for that moment in time he'd made her feel like a child again. Like the past ten years of her life hadn't happened.

Like she wasn't standing in a church of her own free will.

He set her down and tipped her face up, his smile changing to a frown. 'You've been crying.' He turned his frown on Marcus. 'What did you do to her?'

'He's done nothing,' Scarlett said firmly. 'We've been talking and I've been emotional.' She slid her arm around her uncle's waist. 'Uncle Trace, this is Marcus O'Bannion. He tried to help Tala, was with her when she died. Marcus, Father Trace.'

Marcus stuck out his hand. 'Father,' he said politely. 'You're the first member of Scarlett's family that I've had the privilege to meet.'

Trace looked down at Scarlett, his brows lifted. 'Oh, he's good.'

She laughed. 'I know.'

Her uncle shook Marcus's hand. 'They're waiting for you in the choir room. Scarlett, I've told them only that you're my niece.' He hugged her to him again. 'You look very non-coppish. I'll let you decide when to tell them who you are.'

'Are they okay?' Marcus asked. 'Physically?'

'Their feet are pretty cut up. They walked for miles without shoes. I'm so thankful they were picked up by a good person. The trucker recognized that they were afraid and he didn't ask many questions. One of the women in the church washed their feet and bandaged them, but you'll want to have them seen by a doctor. You won't have any trouble communicating from a language standpoint. Their English is impeccable. But they didn't say much. I showed them the pictures of Mr Bautista and young John Paul, but other than crying and giving prayers of thanks that they were safe, they didn't say anything more. They're still very afraid.'

He led them into the church and Scarlett suddenly found it very hard to breathe. She hadn't been lying to Trace. After all the talking she and Marcus had done, her emotions were like a seething cauldron in her gut. Adding to that the memories of Michelle that had been dredged up when she'd found Tala dead in the alley . . .

She swallowed back the lump in her throat and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. But then Marcus took her hand and held it securely in his. Breathing in the scent of his aftershave, she let it calm her.

'You okay?' he whispered.

She tightened her hold. 'Yes.'

They followed her uncle into the choir room and both she and Marcus went abruptly still. Two petite women sat on metal folding chairs, holding hands even more tightly than Scarlett held Marcus's. The older woman was visibly trembling, her eyes bright with tears. The younger was barely sixteen, according to the copies of the visas Immigration had provided, but she looked so much older. Her expression was remote, her dark eyes cold and her shoulders bowed.

'She looks just like Tala,' Marcus murmured, sounding spooked. He released Scarlett's hand and stepped forward, going down on one knee in front of the women so that they could look him in the eye. 'I'm Marcus,' he said quietly. 'And I'm so sorry for your loss.'

Mila Bautista's body began to shake with suppressed sobs, which broke free when Marcus put his arms around them both. Tala's mother leaned into his shoulder and cried, her heart broken.

Beside Scarlett, Trace sighed softly. 'He's for real?'

Scarlett had to blink away her own tears, Mila's grief and Marcus's compassion reaching right into her chest and squeezing her heart until it felt bloodless. She pressed the heel of her hand to her sternum to relieve the ache. 'Yeah. He's very real.'

'I read online that he met Tala Bautista in an alley and tried to help her. Is he in the habit of helping strange young women in the middle of the night?'

She glanced up at Trace who was frowning worriedly. 'Yes, actually, but not like you're thinking.' She quietly explained the situation, adding that Marcus had been shot at a second time and that his friend and the doorman had been shot last night. 'But I still have to wonder who was the target in that alley Tala or Marcus.'

'It was Tala.' Erica Bautista had pulled out of Marcus's embrace, stroking her mother's hair as Mila continued to cry against Marcus's shoulder. The girl's expression was hard and angry, and Scarlett certainly couldn't blame her for that.