Rogelio drove through Redwood City as fast as he dared.His head pounded from the constant flicking of his eyes to the rearview mirror. He’d seen no sign of Delgadia.Was that good or bad? Rogelio couldn’t decide.He’d gotten perhaps a ten-minute lead on the man. He needed time to get his adoption paper into the proper hands. But then what? If Delgadia didn’t come, where might he be? What would he be doing? What if coming here had been a terrible mistake?
Please, God, I’ll do anything. Just protect Mama Yolanda and Kristin.
Rogelio checked the clock on his dash. Five after twelve. He had little time.What if everybody had scattered for lunch?
Fingers clenching the wheel, he turned into the parking garage. It was nearly empty. On the other side, near the pedestrian walkway that led toward the courthouse, two people were approaching a car. Roge-lio’s eyes widened. Brett Welk and that blond girl! Rogelio’s foot punched the gas. His tires squealed over the pavement as he lurched the car into a nearby parking space. Brett and the girl turned abruptly, startled.Rogelio grabbed his adoption paper and leaped from the car.
“Stop! Wait!” He pounded toward them, heart beating in his throat. “I have to show you this. I have to show you this now!” He thrust the paper into Brett’s hands, words spilling from his tongue. “You need to take it to your lawyer before Delgadia comes. If Del-gadia comes. If he gets hold of it, I won’t have proof to get Roselita. And Milt said it would help your dad. Please help me.”
Brett ogled him. “What—”
“Just go!” Rogelio shouted. “We don’t have much time.”
“Go where? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Rogelio’s hands futilely chopped the air.
“Just calm down,” Brett commanded, grabbing Rogelio’s arm until he held still.“Now what?”
Rogelio’s explanations tumbled out. Twice Brett had to slow him down. As their meaning began to dawn on Brett, his mouth sagged open. The blond pressed a hand to her lips. Brett stared in shock at the adoption paper. “See, that signature’s forged.” Rogelio punched a finger on Janet Cline’s name.“And Tracey wasn’t a witness, like this says she was.”
“Milt Waking knew about this?” the girl breathed. “All week?”
Brett’s features blackened.“Terrance could have done something if he’d known.Now it’s too late.”His fingers made dents in the paper. For a moment Rogelio thought he would crumple it like trash. “I swear I’ll kill Milt Waking.”
“It’s not too late; it can’t be.” If it were too late, what would happen to Roselita? Would no one even care? “We have to go!” Rogelio jerked toward the street, the hairs on his neck bristling. “Delgadia could be here any minute.”
“I don’t think so,” Brett mumbled, still gawking at the paper.
“Yes, he will.He will come!”Rogelio threw himself in Brett’s face. He could not bear to think where else Delgadia might be. Brett abruptly pushed him away, then locked eyes with him, the lines on his forehead unraveling as if he realized Rogelio’s plight for the first time. His fingers loosened from the paper and it fluttered to the ground. The girl picked it up.
“Okay, you’re right.”Brett’s voice sounded shallow.“We both just need to … Right now I can’t even think straight.” He blew out air, collecting himself. “Okay.My dad’s attorneys have probably left for lunch.We’ll have to find them.”
Rogelio’s head nodded as if it were barely attached to his neck.The girl held out the adoption paper to him.He folded it twice and stuck it into his jeans pocket.With another glance back toward the street, he turned alongside Brett and the girl to head for the courthouse.
Delgadia has to come. Just give us a few minutes, God, then please let him come.
Rogelio slid his fingers into his pocket, double-checking that the paper was secure. He heard a car on the street and spun around, nerves tingling. The other two halted, watching. The car drove by. Rogelio exhaled in wild relief.“Come on,”Brett urged. In the instant that Rogelio turned again, he heard Brett inhale sharply. Brett and the girl stopped abruptly and Rogelio almost knocked into them. His eyes whipped to the walkway and his lungs curdled.
A figure materialized in the open doorway.
THE JURY ROOM PULSED with grim expectation as each person picked up a lunch bag. Chelsea knew she could not eat. Jurors talked in small groups, their voices low. Most of them sat at the table. Some walked around, glad to be on their feet for a few minutes. Now and then someone emitted a nervous chuckle. She stood back from the table, feeling their antagonism. They had her now and they knew it, reveled in it. Bitterness swept over her as she imagined the next few hours.What if she heard nothing new in Tracey’s testimony? She’d have to switch to a guilty vote, and they’d go on to discuss which crime Darren Welk was guilty of—second-degree murder or less. What if she couldn’t agree with them on that either? Right now she couldn’t begin to sort out those questions.What if today ended with no agreement? Would they take Sunday off? How long would this go? Monday? Tuesday?
God, what about Kerra all this time? Please protect her!
A pang of guilt struck Chelsea.What was wrong with her? How could she be thinking at all about herself after the vision she had that morning? She needed to be praying, not worrying.
“You going to eat?” B. B. motioned to the last bag sitting on the table. Tak and Hesta fastened Chelsea with frosty stares.
“No. Thank you,” she said. “I think I’ll just take my chair over there for a while and … think.”
“You do that,” Latonia commented just loud enough for her to hear.
It was a nasty remark that Chelsea knew she should ignore. But it shot right through her.Dear God, my nerves are such a wreck. I’m never going to make it through this day.
Wordlessly Henry slid her chair away from the table. He would not look her in the eye. She grabbed the back of it and dragged it near a corner, angling it away from the table. She hoped she could clear her mind of imagining the glares at her back.
She sat down and stared sightlessly at the wall.Without warning another vision, white-hot and intense, seared itself on her brain. Kerra. The man with the scar. A knife. The vision sizzled with urgency, imminence.
Chelsea raked in a breath and held it. Fear exploded within her, and every muscle in her body locked. Her thoughts leaped wildly, then flattened. For a second she could think no rational thought.
Pray now! The knowledge seemed to split her skull. Pray!
The jury room, the trial, the smell of sandwiches and chips, all faded as she jerked clasped hands to her mouth and launched into desperate prayer.
THE MAN STEPPED FROM bright sunlight into the garage. Brett processed the suit, the briefcase, the familiar, hated face. Rage, pure and frothing, surged through his veins.His body kicked into motion before he realized it. All the days, the sleepless nights, all the moments of guilt and fear and pain, propelled him in fury toward Milt Waking.
“Brett, no!” Kerra cried.
With a growl in his throat, Brett leaped the last few steps. He let his fist fly, catching the surprised reporter squarely on the jaw. “Ungh!”Milt lurched sideways, briefcase spinning out of his hand. Brett jumped for him, grabbed him by the lapels.
“Get out of the way,” he heard Rogelio cry to Kerra. From the corner of his eye he saw her fade back.
Milt slapped a palm against Brett’s chin and shoved. Brett’s head snapped back but he hung on.
“Wha—” Milt vainly tried to wrench free. Blood smeared the corner of his mouth. Rogelio darted in to help Brett, face contorted with his own anger.He caught one ofMilt’s arms and pulled it back.
“You sent my dad to jail,” Brett said, seething.
The three of them yelled at once, their voices intermingling, bouncing off the walls of the parking garage.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“All you care about is getting some story—”
“You lied about helping me—”
Milt threw a strong punch into Brett’s temple. Dark spots danced before Brett’s eyes. He heard Kerra shouting at them to stop. Roge-lio emitted a string of curses.
“Wait!”Milt cried. “Listen to me!”
“I’ve listened to you enough.” Rogelio ground the words through his teeth as he swung at Milt’s head. The reporter ducked.
A car’s wheels squeaked against the pavement of the garage. Brett barely registered the sound.Milt backed up toward the wall, flailing at both of them wildly. “Let me—” Rogelio’s fist shot out, blocked by Milt’s upraised arm. Brett heard the car screech to a halt, engine running. Kerra cried out. Milt jumped backward, puffing. “I’m-going-to-get-your-dad-off!” The words streamed from his bleeding mouth. “I’m-going-to-get-your—”
Kerra wailed. The panicked sound kicked through Brett’s head. He and Rogelio swung around at the same time.Milt stilled.
Brett caught sight of a nightmare, and a trap door opened in his stomach.His mind reeled. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening!
His knees weakened and he stumbled. Then pulled himself upright. Enrico Delgadia hulked behind Kerra, pressed against her back, one beefy arm viselike around her chest.Kerra’s arms had frozen midair, fingers spread.Her eyes were bugged and wild. Delgadia held a knife at the base of her throat.