“Evidence? What kind of evidence?”

I let go of Catherine’s hand to stand next to Edwards Bayard. I spoke to him in my prison yard undervoice so Catherine couldn’t hear. “The law is starting to think Taverner was killed-instead of the popular theory that he died in his sleep. You showing up in his apartment like that, breaking in through the patio, skulking behind the curtains, well, it makes me wonder where you were last Monday night. And last Sunday night, when Marcus Whitby died, for that matter.”

“Why, you-how dare you?” His eyes blazed with fury, but he also kept his voice low, glancing at his daughter to see how much of our talk she was following.

“What do you mean, how dare I? You knocked me down in your haste to flee the dead man’s home. And your rightwing think tank is a major

beneficiary of Taverner’s estate. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t hand you-not to the old family friend, Rick Salvi-but to the Chicago cops, who aren’t going to be nearly so impressed with you.”

“Get out of here right now,” Bayard roared. “I will not have you slandering me in front of my daughter!”

“Daddy, please,” Catherine cried from her bed. “Don’t shout, I can’t stand it. And let me talk to her, I want to talk to her.”

“Not without me present, you don’t. Don’t you understand, Trina, you are in a lot of trouble right now?”

“Trina’s in a lot of pain, and Sheriff Salvi is in a lot of trouble. Don’t get hysterical, Eds.” Renee Bayard swept into the room.

She moved me away from Catherine with an imperious glance and felt her granddaughter’s pulse. Although Renee was dressed casually, in corduroy trousers and a sweater, she still wore her mahjongg tile bracelet, which clacked as she felt Catherine’s wrist. I couldn’t help wondering how long she’d lingered outside the door, waiting for the perfect line for a dramatic entrance.

“It’s not hysterical to be concerned when your daughter lets herself be sucked into involvement with a runaway terrorist-especially when you’re twelve hundred miles away. What the hell were you doing, letting her roam about Larchmont like that in the middle of the night? I agreed to let her stay with you when I took the position in D.C., but if this is what’s going to happen, then as soon as she’s fit to travel she’s moving out there where she can be properly supervised.”

“Won’t go.” Catherine tried to speak with her usual fire, but her words came out slowly. “Stay with Grample and Granny. Won’t listen to rightwing bullshit night after-“

“You see?” Edwards Bayard said to his mother. “She lives with you and she loses all respect for my work.”

“Eds, she’s terribly weak, she can’t think straight right now. Let’s let her rest and sort this out when she’s stronger. And you,” she turned to me. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but it’s time you left.”