“I know, and in reality, the death penalty isn’t an option in New York State, so the maximum sentence would be life without parole. The prosecutor thinks twenty-five years is good enough.” And she gets the conviction for her statistics. “But the assault charge against Grant will go away as part of the deal.”

“I know you’re disappointed, but a plea will let Grant and Carson get on with their lives.”

Disappointed? That didn’t even come close. Anger seethed through Hannah’s blood. The prosecutor had all but stated that she didn’t want to spend the next year working on a case with this many complications and unknowns. An overturned verdict hurt her numbers. A plea satisfied her boss. The case would be closed. Her caseload was enormous, and her resources limited. She wanted to put this case away with no possibility that it would land back on her desk in eighteen months.

But twenty-five years?

Lee’s killer could still have part of a life remaining when he was released from prison. Her brother was gone forever. His children were orphans.

“I’m sorry,” Brody said. “It’s not fair.”

“No. But maybe she’s right. Maybe it would be best for Carson and Grant to let this go.” Hannah’s throat tightened. Carson would be thirty-one when the sentence was up. How would he deal with his father’s killer being set free?

“I wish I could be there with you, but I have to go into another meeting with the chief and mayor about yesterday’s shooting. I don’t know when I’ll be available again. I’ll call you when I’m finished?”

“Please.” She wished he were here more than was comfortable. He grounded her. His smooth demeanor offset her turbulence. He could be her ballast if she let him, and the loss of independence that realization represented sent wariness rippling over her skin like goose bumps.

“I will.” Brody said good-bye and ended the call.

Hannah got out of the car. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky. The wind shifted, carrying the smell of wood smoke and falling leaves to her nose. The cold rain refreshed her skin. She’d dressed for her meeting, but the business suit and makeup felt uncomfortable, wrong, as if she were wearing a costume. Her Prada suede pumps hurt her toes. She couldn’t wait to change into jeans and wash her face.

She headed for the front porch. Her body was tired, the beauty of last night with Brody wiped clear by her meeting with the prosecutor. Politics had claimed another victory over justice. This shouldn’t happen. People like Lee and Kate shouldn’t be murdered. Places like Scarlet Falls shouldn’t be tainted by depravity.