He glanced at his mother and then nodded.

I looked to Vail and he left the room to bring in the men.

When the first group walked into the room on the other side of the two-way mirror, I stood next to Lyle, blocking him from Pritcher’s view in case ole Russ got the idea that maybe he could intimidate the little guy.

Seven men came in. All white, all with dark hair and builds like linebackers. On the far right was Steven Brown. The kid was taller than the rest and had a thicker body, probably from football or wrestling. He was unshaven and, I could see it from a mile away, scared. He was fidgeting and kept glancing around.

Vail looked to Lyle and said, “Do you recognize anybody standing here?”

He clutched his mother’s hand and buried his face in her leg. I looked to Nikyee, who I could tell understood that I couldn’t be the one to help him.

“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Tell him if you recognize anyone here.”

Slowly, he turned his head and shook it.

“Are you sure?” his mother said.

“It was dark. There were two of them. I don’t know.”

Crap.

I looked to Vail, who led the men out and brought in the next group.

In the middle was Anderson Ficco. Seeing him in person was something . . . different. I felt anger, and I didn’t want to. Anger was temporary insanity, and it was the worst of all the emotions for a trial attorney to feel, since it blocked all reason and clearheadedness.

Unlike Steven, Anderson had a smirk on his face. No fear at all. Steven was the weak link, and I made a mental note of that.

Lyle glared at Anderson. It was clear, I’m sure, to everyone in that room that he was terrified of him, and I wondered just how much Lyle had seen that night.

“Do you recognize anyone, son?” Vail said.

He buried his face in his mother’s leg again, and this time, he nodded.

“Which number is he holding?”

He slowly turned and looked at Anderson and then dug his face back into his mother’s thigh. “Three.”

Pritcher stepped forward and said, “Lyle, are you sure you recognize number three? It seems like you hesitated a little bit.”

He gripped his mom’s leg tighter. “Yes. Three.”

I nodded and turned back to Detective Vail, who left the room again to take the men in the lineup away.

“Thank you,” I said to Nikyee as everyone filed out. Only Pritcher, his two associates, and Jia and I were left.

“Agg homicide,” I said, “and I’ll take the death penalty off the table.”

He chuckled. “You’re kidding, right? They’d never let him out. That’s as good as a death sentence.”