Barry Pallor was the judge, two hundred and fifty pounds of legal insight and personal frustration. He was on his fifth wife; she was a prison guard. Number four had been a lawyer; she was forever suing him for back alimony. Pallor was rumored to be soft on pretty women and hard on blacks who looked like his second son—which was the reason wife number three was no longer around. Pallor was white Irish.

Amy appeared fittingly wounded. Trent played hardball. He pushed Pallor for reasonable bail. He read off his reasons as if they were stock quotes: the accused had no motive; she had never been convicted of a crime before; she had suffered enough with the recent kidnapping of her child; the agents who had witnessed her supposed crime were of dubious character. Kelly liked that last one but it annoyed Charlie. The guy the District Attorney’s office had sent over argued like a munchkin before the wicked witch. He was so inept Charlie wondered aloud if Carl Techer had already managed to pull strings higher up the food chain. Paranoia, perhaps, but they were in Pallor’s court, and with all those exes he had plenty of alimony to pay. Maybe he could be bought. Amy managed to raise her head a few times to bat her long lashes. Pallor seemed to like the look of her.

Bail was set at eight hundred thousand. Amy was free, for now.

She smiled at Kelly as she left the courtroom with her family. Mocking.

“What does she know?” Charlie whispered in her ear.

“She’s going to put it on Matt,” Kelly said.

“I wonder.”

“What?”

“What if Matt helps her?” Charlie asked.

Kelly dismissed the notion. But when she failed to reach Matt over the next two days, she began to wonder herself. Amy knew how to project innocence in the midst of irrefutable guilt, and Matt had the discrimination of Don Quixote when it came to playing the hero. Pallor had ordered Amy not to leave town, but who tracked her? Kelly figured if Amy had Matt advising her on how to vanish, they could blink and the girl would be gone. But Kelly consoled herself that even Matt was not that stupid.

Until Amy did disappear.

SEVENTEEN

SEVENTEEN

Matt told Amy to meet him in Century City. She had called an hour after she got out of prison. He was not sure why he chose the spot. They used to see a lot of movies there, go to the restaurants. Fond memories—did he think they would protect him? Yet he doubted she would try to trap him. She was the one in the box. Now she needed his help. Even if she thought to betray him, she would bide her time.