Great to be on the other side of the one-way mirror. Decker leaned against the wall, watching Myron Berger and his lawyer confer. Not that there was much to talk about. The deal had been cut hours ago. The doctor had been guaranteed immunity from prosecution by the FBI on charges of computer tampering, theft, and fraud in exchange for becoming a material witness. And though Berger hadn’t been formally booked, the police had retained the right if future information and/or evidence warranted an arrest.

Marge sipped coffee. “Is my watch fast or is it already seven?”

“Your watch isn’t fast.”

“Where does the time go?”

“I don’t know.” Decker rubbed his neck. “Tomorrow night is the Sabbath. I can’t wait.”

Marge said, “Are we still on for Sunday?”

“Absolutely.”

“I know Rina’s strict with her kitchen, so I don’t want to bring any food. How about if I bring flowers?”

“Great. Thanks.”

Decker drank from a thermos, regarded the action on the other side of the looking glass. Berger had chosen Justin Dorman as his counsel, a man in his late thirties with styled wheat-colored hair and deep-set brown eyes. His regular features bore a nondescript expression. In his herringbone suit, he looked about as menacing as a model in GQ. But he had cut Berger a good plea. Decker had been impressed.

The doctor, on the other hand, was anything but Perma-Prest. His clothes were wrinkled and he needed a shave. More than anything, Berger was tired. Yes, he’d withstood fourteen-hour surgeries, but no endurance test could have prepared him for this.

Decker said, “You didn’t want a piece of the action?”

“Nah.” Marge threw away her plastic cup. “The deal’s been cut. Nothing to do but listen. Might as well do it here where I can make wisecracks.” She observed the scene on the other side, the door opening…“And on with the show.”

Oliver came in the interview room. With him was Mitch Saugust, the deputy DA. Also young—in his thirties—but not as well coiffed nor as well dressed. Saugust was tall but not muscular. His shoulders sloped, his gut spilled over his belt. He shook hands with Dorman, then sat down. Oliver took the chair to his left.

Saugust looked at Oliver. Scott said, “We’re ready whenever you are, Doctor.”

Berger was draped in fatigue. “Oh my.” He hung his head. “Where to begin.”

The room was quiet.

“I’ve been with Azor Sparks for nearly twenty-five years. A few of our colleagues considered us a team. But most didn’t. More important, I didn’t. I had always looked to Azor as a boss, even though we were in the same graduating class at Harvard Medical School.”

He took a deep breath.