Then there was the anger she felt every single day. Anger that his killers had never been brought to justice. That everyone knew who was behind it-Cavello! And the b.a.s.t.a.r.d wasn't even being charged. She even had dreams of finding him in his jail cell and killing him herself.

Then one day she was finally able to put some of Jarrod's things away, pack them into boxes, without crying. Without being too ashamed. She had asked the coroner to cut off a piece of the Knicks uniform shirt Jarrod was wearing that day. She kept it in her purse.

MARBURY.

3.

She started back toward having a life with the simplest things. Doing her proofreading, seeing a flick. It was like relearning the steps of life all over again. Telling herself it was okay. To live live was okay. was okay.

Over time, she found herself reading the papers again, watching the news. Laughing at a joke on Letterman. One day, she even picked up a copy of Variety. Variety. A few weeks later, she called her agent. A few weeks later, she called her agent.

Then, five months after it happened, Andie found herself standing in front of the doors to a casting studio on West 57th Street. The call was for some Cialis commercial. All it took was looking fortyish and a little s.e.xy-pretty much herself. Her agent said, Go. See how it feels. Go. See how it feels.

Standing in front of the studio, Andie had never felt so terrified in her life. It was like the first time she ever went on a casting call. It was too new. It wasn't right. Way too soon. Way too soon.

A pretty blond woman stepped out of the elevator behind her. "You goin' in?"

"No, you go ahead." Andie shook her head. A wave of panic swept over her. A tightness pounded in her chest. She needed air.

She didn't even wait for the elevator, just hurried down the back staircase and onto 57th Street. Her legs felt weak and wobbly. She sucked a deep, grateful breath into her lungs.

This isn't going to go away, Andie. It's always going to be with you. Survivors pull it together. You have to do that, too. A few people pa.s.sing by on the street glanced at her. She realized how foolish she felt, and probably looked. A few people pa.s.sing by on the street glanced at her. She realized how foolish she felt, and probably looked.

Andie pressed herself against the cold concrete of the building and took another breath. She reached into her purse and felt for the little piece from Jarrod's uniform. You're always going to be with me. You're always going to be with me.

Andie went back into the building, taking the elevator this time, back up to the third floor. She stood outside the studio again. Clutching her portfolio, she sucked in a breath. This was hard. This was so d.a.m.n hard. This was hard. This was so d.a.m.n hard.

A woman stepped out just as she entered, and the woman had that look of disappointment Andie knew so well. Andie pushed through the doors and walked up to the receptionist.

"Andie DeGra.s.se. I'm here to read for the part."

Chapter 48.

FROM A STAIRCASE across 183rd Street, I bit my lower lip as I watched her coming back home. I don't think she ever saw me, and I wanted to keep it that way. The alternative was too crazy to spend time thinking about.

Andie DeGra.s.se looked good. She was dressed up and clutching a large black portfolio. On the outside it looked as if she had it all back together. But I thought I knew what must be going on inside her.

I came up this way from time to time, and I wasn't even really sure why.

Maybe I just felt good that someone had come out of this thing alive. A couple of times I even went up and knocked on her door. I'd say hi, or bring something-a little news about the investigation. Basically, stand around a few moments, as though it was an official visit and I had something to say that I couldn't quite put into words. It felt good being connected to somebody. I didn't reach out to people much since the trial.

Maybe I was just kidding myself again. Maybe it was simply Andie DeGra.s.se. How she was pulling her life back together after what had happened. I envied that. That she never once accused me, though she had every right to-that she never looked at me with blame in her eyes.

Maybe it was simply the knowledge that we shared something-neither of our lives would ever be whole again. That's what I believed, anyway.

So I watched her as she climbed the stairs to her building and unlocked the inside door. She checked her mail and tucked a few envelopes and magazines under her arm, then disappeared from sight. A short while later, the lights went on in her apartment. What am I, a stalker? What am I, a stalker? But I knew that wasn't it. But I knew that wasn't it.

I finally walked across the street. Another tenant stepped out, and I fumbled in my pockets for a second, as if I'd lost my keys, catching the door before it closed.

Her apartment was 2B, on the second floor, facing the street. I climbed the stairs. I remembered the night we took the jury in. For a few seconds, I just stood in front of her door. What was I here to say? What was I here to say? I had started to knock when it hit me, the feeling of total foolishness, stupidity. I had started to knock when it hit me, the feeling of total foolishness, stupidity.

I backed away quickly, heading to the stairs.

That's when the door opened. And I was facing Andie.

Chapter 49.

SHE WAS STANDING THERE in a powder-blue sweater over jeans, barefoot, holding a black trash bag in her hand. When she saw me she did a double take. "Hey."

I tried to act just as surprised-because I was. was. "I was dropping something off," I said, holding out the book I'd brought along. "I read this book. I was going to give it to you. I mean, I "I was dropping something off," I said, holding out the book I'd brought along. "I read this book. I was going to give it to you. I mean, I am am giving it to you." giving it to you."

"The Four Agreements." She removed it from the manila envelope, nodding. "'Don't take anything personally,' 'be impeccable with your word.' My sister gave it to me. Good choice, Agent Pellisante." She removed it from the manila envelope, nodding. "'Don't take anything personally,' 'be impeccable with your word.' My sister gave it to me. Good choice, Agent Pellisante."

"I'm evolving. And it's Nick." I shrugged.

"Which is it?" she asked. "Evolving, or Nick?"

I smiled. "So, how's it going?"

"I went to an audition today. A Cialis commercial. You know, when the moment hits."

"And how'd it go?"

She smiled. "Dunno, exactly. All I had to do was look fortyish and s.e.xy. Right up my alley, right? But I read the part. It's the first time. . . . Have to pay the bills, right?"

I gave her a knowing look. Sometimes, I just wanted to reach out and hold her, hoping she would rest her head on my chest awhile. I just wanted to show I cared.

"I don't know-for forty, I think you look great. Honestly."

"Forty-ish." She raised an eye with a sharp smile. "Come back in eight years and I'll give you credit for a compliment. In the meantime . . ." Andie leaned against the door frame. "So how's the cla.s.s you're teaching?"

A couple months back, I had written to her to let her know I'd left the Bureau and started teaching again. I just stood there with my hands in my coat and shrugged. "The highs aren't quite the same as my old job. So far, no one's shooting at me, though."

Andie smiled again. "How about I give you a choice, Nick? You can take the trash down behind the staircase on your way out. Or, if you want, you can come in."

"I'd like to," I said.

"You'd like to which? which?"

I stayed where I was. "You know, the retrial's starting. Jury selection's coming up. Next week."

"I read the papers," Andie said.

"I'm still a witness. The case is strong. They're going to put him away this time."

She stared at me awhile. Her mouth was full and her eyes sharp. Brown. "That's what you came by to tell me?"

"No." What promises could I make that I hadn't already broken? We'd never caught the men who killed her son. We had nothing to tie it to Cavello. "I thought maybe you'd want to come to the trial with me."

She took a step back. "I don't know. I don't know if I can be close to that man."

"I understand." I lifted the trash bag out of her hand. I guess that was a decision. She smiled as if she could see right through me.

"Still the public servant, huh, Nick?"

I gave her a self-deprecating smile. "Evolving."

She smiled.

"Hey, Pellisante," she called, catching me halfway down the stairs. "Next time, you really should think about coming in."

Chapter 50.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING I was at my desk. In my office. At home.

I was doing what I always did on the days I didn't teach. What I'd been doing every free day for the past five months: sifting through every piece of information I could find on the case. Every doc.u.ment. Every sliver of evidence.

Looking for some way I could tie the bus blast to Dominic Cavello.

If anyone saw my study, my disheveled desk, they'd probably think they'd stepped into the lair of some obsessive, pathological nutcase. Good G.o.d, I had photos taped everywhere. The blast site. The van. The juror bus. Thick binders of FBI reports on the explosive device stacked high. Interviews with people on the street who might've seen the two men in work clothes running away.

More than once I thought I had caught a break. Like when the stolen New Jersey plates led back to some horse trainer in Freehold who had links to the Lucchese crime family. But that turned out to be coincidence. None of it led anywhere. None of it directly tied to Dominic Cavello or his people.

I was sipping my morning coffee, having to admit that my mind was drifting back to Andie DeGra.s.se, when the phone rang.

"Pellisante," I answered.

It was Ray Hughes, the agent who'd taken my place at C-10. "Nick"-he sounded happy to catch me-"any chance you're free?"

Sometimes we'd have lunch, and Ray would pick my brain, or I'd pick his. I figured all he wanted was to go over my testimony for the upcoming trial. "I'd hate to miss out on Ellen, Ellen, Ray, but I think I could find my way down to see you." Ray, but I think I could find my way down to see you."

"Not here. There's a government jet waiting for us. At Teterboro."

If Ray wanted to grab my interest, he had it. The offer of a crummy sandwich at his desk in the Javits Building would have done the trick, too.

"A plane to take us where, Ray?"

The acting head of the Organized Crime Unit paused. "Marion."

I stood up quickly from my desk, coffee spilling over my work notes.

Marion was the federal prison where Cavello was being held.

Chapter 51.

ABOUT FOUR HOURS LATER, the government Lockheed touched down at the airport in Carbondale, Illinois. A car was waiting for us and drove us to Marion Federal Prison. Marion was a vast, depressing-looking redbrick fortress stuck in the middle of a marshland in rural southern Illinois. It was also one of the most secure federal prisons in the United States. Although Cavello had yet to be convicted, after what happened in New York, the government wasn't taking any chances.

Warden Richard Bennifer was waiting for us. He escorted us out to the special control units, where Cavello was being held. The only visiting station was a gla.s.s-paneled room, with a guard standing by with a Taser and a surveillance camera running at all times. The prisoners here were lifers, level sixes, lost to the outside world for all time. I rejoiced. I was looking forward to seeing Cavello spend the rest of his life in a place like this.

Ray Hughes and Joel Goldenberger remained outside and watched through the one-way gla.s.s.

Cavello was already sitting there when I came in. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his feet chained together. He was gaunter and older than when I'd seen him last, and a thin, gray growth clung to his jawline.

He'd been informed the government was here to see him, but the government was here to see him a lot. When he saw it was me he did a double take. Then came a wistful smile, as if he had just found an old friend.

"Nicky!" He tilted back his chair. "Is it a holiday or something? Who's minding the cla.s.s?"

I sat down across from him, behind the protected gla.s.s, and didn't laugh. "Hi, Dom. How's the jaw?"

"Still hurts." He laughed. "Still think of you every time I brush my teeth."

Then he twisted around to the guard behind him. "You watch this guy. Last time he came to see me in jail, I had to take my meals through a straw for months." He wheezed a laugh. "This is the guy that should be in here, not me. not me. Anyway, you're lookin' fit, Nicky. Playin' any golf? Retirement looks like it agrees with you." Anyway, you're lookin' fit, Nicky. Playin' any golf? Retirement looks like it agrees with you."

"They let me come back, Dom, just for a day." I smiled thinly. "To deliver some news."

"News, huh? Good, I don't get much news in here. Jeez, Nick, they got some special downward career spiral planned out for you. You're a messenger boy now. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I like the company. It's just that, you look a little peaked, eh? Must be that kid, huh? Tell me, how're you sleeping these days?"

I balled my fists tightly. I knew he was trying to make me react again. But this time I just let him go. "I'm going to be sleeping just fine, Dom."