Tish slipped her hand inside the suitcase pouch again and extracted the plastic zip-top bag in which she kept the clipping. She removed it delicately, careful not to rip the yellowed newspaper. It was a fragment from another era. A lifetime ago. She unfolded the creases and held it at its edge with the tips of her fingers.

The headline screamed at her. Tore at her heart.

HOSTAGE SHOT, KILLED IN BANK STANDOFF

She read it for the thousandth time and then carefully refolded it and slid it back inside the plastic bag. As if, by putting it away, it didn’t exist. She got angry all over again to think of William Starr hiding this clipping in the pages of his Bible. Until Cindy found it.

The phone rang in the other room. Tish secured the envelope inside her suitcase and went to answer it.

“This is Tish,” she said.

“This is Peter Stanhope.”

She thought about hanging up, but she didn’t. “What do you want?”

“First, I want to apologize.”

“Oh?”

“I know you had ulterior motives during our rendezvous the other night, but I shouldn’t have done what I did. It was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“If you expect me to apologize, too, you can forget it.”

“I understand. I’m not asking for anything in return.” He added, “I saw the press conference tonight. The authorities are essentially walking away from the case. I was wondering what that means for your book.”

“What I write in my book and what the police and prosecutors do are two different things,” Tish told him.

“So what are you going to write?” Peter asked.

“You’ll have to read it and find out.”

“You don’t still think I’m guilty, do you? I heard that Finn admitted to you that he killed Laura. I also heard about his mother and her murder. It’s a tragic story.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m sure you’re disappointed that no one is going to answer for Laura’s death,” he said. “All I can tell you, as a lawyer, is that getting to a courtroom doesn’t mean that you’ll find justice. Don’t judge yourself a failure because you couldn’t convince prosecutors to file charges in a thirty-year-old murder.”

“I know that. I feel sorry for Finn, but not for you, Peter. At least Finn had an excuse. He grew up in an abusive family. You were a stalker and an attempted rapist, and your only excuse was arrogance and money.”

“As to being rich and arrogant, I plead guilty.” He laughed.

Tish hated the fact that he was so smooth. So unflappable. Even now, with the truth coming from Finn’s mouth, she was reluctant to give up the idea that Peter had been the one to swing the bat.

“Tell me something, did you know Finn was in the woods that night?” Tish asked. “Did you see him there?”

“No.”

“What about his family background?”

Peter responded with an exaggerated sigh. “What is this about?”

“It just occurred to me that Finn makes a very convenient fall guy,” Tish told him. “Particularly if you knew about his mother’s murder.”