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Chapters (97)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. 1.
  6. 2.
  7. 3.
  8. 4.
  9. 5.
  10. 6.
  11. 7.
  12. 8.
  13. 9.
  14. 10.
  15. 11.
  16. 12.
  17. 13.
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. SIX MONTHS LATER
  25. 20.
  26. 21.
  27. 22.
  28. 23.
  29. 24.
  30. 25.
  31. 26.
  32. 27.
  33. 28.
  34. 29.
  35. 30.
  36. 31.
  37. 32.
  38. 33.
  39. 34.
  40. 35.
  41. 36.
  42. 37.
  43. 38.
  44. 39.
  45. 40.
  46. 41.
  47. 42.
  48. 43.
  49. 44.
  50. 45.
  51. 46.
  52. 47.
  53. 48.
  54. 49.
  55. 50.
  56. 51.
  57. 52.
  58. 53.
  59. 54.
  60. 55.
  61. 56.
  62. 57.
  63. 58.
  64. 59.
  65. 60.
  66. 61.
  67. 62.
  68. 63.
  69. 64.
  70. 65.
  71. 66.
  72. 67.
  73. 68.
  74. 69.
  75. 70.
  76. 71.
  77. 72.
  78. 73.
  79. 74.
  80. 75.
  81. 76.
  82. 77.
  83. 78.
  84. 79.
  85. 80.
  86. 81.
  87. 82.
  88. 83.
  89. 84.
  90. 85.
  91. 86.
  92. 87.
  93. SIX MORE MONTHS LATER
  94. 88.
  95. 89.
  96. Discover More
  97. About the Author

Lopez would go after him but there’s something more pressing to do.

Detective Lopez reenters the courtroom. Holding the disposable phone up for Zack to see.

And holding up his badge—his old detective badge—high over his head, displaying it to the entire courtroom.

Litvinov halts the proceedings. “Everything okay, Detective?”

“I’m so sorry, Your Honor, but we need to clear the courtroom.”

Groans of annoyance and skepticism rise from the gallery. “Some kind of scare called in, Detective?”

“Yes, Your Honor. Something like that.”

“Is it really necessary, Detective?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

In an abundance of caution and amid continued grumbling, the courtroom is cleared immediately. Judge Litvinov, in his still-detectable Slavic accent, instructs participating attorneys for both the prosecution and the defense, as well as the current witness, Zack Yellin, and the other witnesses slated to appear after Mr. Yellin, to please stand by. Two court officers will stand with Mr. Richter and his attorney, Nat Becker, and will permit no verbal exchange of any kind with the defendant. All trial participants are instructed to remain in the entrance plaza outside the courthouse until further notice.

“How did you know?” Zack asks Lopez, rushing up to him as soon as Lopez emerges onto the bright plaza with the rest of them, after helping to direct the dogs and bomb squad inside the courthouse. “How did you put it together?”

Lopez looks confused. “What do you mean?”

A man holding two phones? How could Lopez guess about a detonator just from that? No one could be that smart. Not even Lopez.

“How did you know?” Zack asks again.

Lopez still appears puzzled. “From your text, Zack.”

He takes out his phone and spins the screen so Zack can see it.

Don’t let Karloff send a text from that phone.

A message from Zack Yellin.

Or, at least, from Zack’s phone.

Zack looks over to Joey, across the plaza, surrounded by court officers. Joey, who is smiling.

He’d done exactly what Zack had. Brought up the most recent calls and texts in Zack’s phone. Saw a call to a Raymond Lopez and sent him a text.

Pretty quick thinking, Joey. Pretty damn impressive, thinks Zack.

Pretty quick thinking for anyone.

83.

83.

Waiting. Waiting in the plaza.

Waiting for the civil case to continue. To conclude.

And waiting for my life to move on, thinks Zack. To get past this event, this never-ending story that keeps repeating itself, holding Zack tenaciously in its grip, caught in its net forever.