Walking over to the wall, Rina ran a finger over the receiver.

Now or never. While the phone was still ringing. Because once someone picked up, Peter would be accutely aware of the extension kicking in.

She shouldn’t.

It was unethical.

It was wrong.

But she couldn’t look past the scene in her head. The pain in Bram’s eyes as he eulogized his father…so reminiscent of her own heartbreak almost a decade ago.

He had been there for her in endless ways.

And now he was in trouble.

He would have done it for her without a second thought.

Quietly, she removed the phone from the cradle. As luck would have it, Marge picked up at the same time.

Rina held her breath as her husband started talking.

She was ashamed of herself.

So be it. The feeling would have to keep.

24

Sitting at his desk, Decker sorted through the morning messages—four from Paul Sparks, three from Eva Shapiro, five from William Waterson on behalf of Dolores Sparks, and two from Michael. None from Maggie. More significant, none from Luke. Marge knocked on Decker’s doorjamb. He told her to come in.

“An advantage of my being off the Sparks case.” Decker stood and handed her the stack of phone slips. “I don’t have to return calls. Have fun.”

“Lucas Sparks is outside. He barged into your office this morning, demanding to talk to you. We almost threw him out.”

“You should have.”

“I would have except that I think he has something important to say.”

“I can’t talk to him.”

“He’s insistent, Pete—”

“I can’t do it, Marge. End of discussion.”

Marge pushed hair from her face. “Look, why don’t you explain to him personally why you can’t talk—”

“Marge—”

“Pete, if you let him go, we may miss something big.” Marge clenched her jaw. “How about if you talk to him while we all listen behind the one-way mirror?”

Decker considered the offer, feeling it was a mistake. But she was right. If Luke had something to say, stalling could give him cold feet. He took out a portable tape recorder from his desk drawer. “Bring him in the interview room. Give me about ten minutes.”

“All right!”

Marge left. Decker poured himself another cup of hard black coffee and downed an Advil, hoping to stave off a thrashing headache. Carefully, he reviewed his notes, then walked across the hall into the interview room.

In just a few days, Luke had lost weight. He was almost as thin as his brother. His clothes sagged, but he was washed and shaved, his hair clean and neatly combed. He wore a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of denims. His feet were housed in knock-off Doc Martens. He stood when Decker came in.

“Mr. Sparks. Please sit.”

Luke sat. So did Decker.