He came back with two more mugs and handed one to Gabrielle. He sat down again beside me, and his eyes were so kind. I recognized my old friend. Betsy’s husband. All that cool reserve was gone. I let myself sag onto his shoulder, and he put his arm around me. He smelled like cedarwood and coffee and the past.

Marshall said, “Okay. If this is about a case that Trey and Spencer did, why bring you into it? Why not make Trey do the dirty work?”

I’d thought about this, too. “I haven’t any idea how well, if at all, she knows Trey, but she knows men like him, like his father. The system works for them. Trey would call his father and the cops and the FBI and the governor. I think she had me pegged for a spoiled rich girl, but I’m also a mother. She put her money on me. It was a good bet.”

I finished the coffee in another long, shuddering pull, hungry for any kind of sweetness.

Gabrielle was trying to get her cool and analytical attorney face back on. She almost had it. Lawyers, the kind who saw the insides of courtrooms, were like actors. They could be the job, tell the story, play the part. Most of Trey’s colleagues worked on contracts and settlements, never getting out of a conference room. Gabrielle shared Trey’s ability to litigate. It was one reason she was such an up-and-comer.

She asked, “Why not kill Spence herself and then take the baby. Do it all on her own?”

I thought this was rhetorical, Gabrielle thinking out loud, but I knew the answer. Knew it in my gut, and this was more proof, wasn’t it? That the mother and I were in some real way still connected?

“Because she’s sick—dying. She told me she won’t live to see the end of summer, so I’m not sure she could have. Physically. And she’s trying to keep her daughter’s hands clean.”

Marshall shook his head. “Wouldn’t felony murder apply to the daughter, too?”

Gabrielle shrugged. “Oh, hell yeah, and accessory to kidnapping. The daughter is in it up to her neck, but they might not understand the law. Plus, a prosecutor would have to prove in court that the daughter staked you out or actively helped another way. No one has a legal obligation to report a crime, even if it hasn’t happened yet. I think. We really need Leticia. May I please call her?”

“Fine,” I said.

She hesitated. “If Leticia thinks you’re safe to call the cops in, can I do that, too?”

“No!” I said, instantly angry, my slumped spine jerking up straight.