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Barnett’s betrayal was a different story.

Teddy still couldn’t believe what Barnett had done. He thought he knew the man. He thought he’d been a good judge of character his entire life. Yet there it was in Holmes’s statement. Teddy looked away from the file Andrews had given him, wondering what kind of man would sell out his own brother-in-law. A member of his family who needed him.

He felt sick.

Powell entered the coffee shop and gazed at him from the doorway. After a moment, she stepped up to the counter, ordered a cup of decaf, and sat down on the other side of the table.

“You okay?” she asked.

Teddy nodded even though he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure who was worse, Andrews or Barnett.

“I didn’t know about this, Teddy. Not until this morning. Alan wanted to keep it a surprise.”

He gave her a look. He believed her.

Still, the implications of the deal between Andrews and Barnett stabbed at his soul. The confession meant that the FBI would be out before they even got in. He could see Rosemary Gibb modeling for the painter with bad teeth who liked to order caffe lattes. The girl trying to hold on with no one looking for her. Time running out, and Rosemary not making it. The killer having his way with her, doing things to her with the knife, her lifeless body submerged in water when he was through.

“What about the manager at the coffee house?” he said. “He wasn’t describing Holmes.”

“No, he wasn’t,” she said. “But Holmes was in prison when Rosemary turned up missing.”

“Did you mention that to Andrews?”

She nodded. “He doesn’t think they’re related. People turn up missing every day. Besides, the confession changes everything.”

Teddy lowered his eyes.

“I know it’s hard,” she said. “You gave it a good shot. I’ve gotta get back to the office. But think it over, Teddy. The evidence is overwhelming. Read your client’s statement. I’ll give you a call this afternoon. Maybe we can meet somewhere and talk.”

She hadn’t touched her coffee. She started to get up, then sat down again.

“I did a little checking on my own,” she said. “The night Barnett was run over, Andrews attended a fund-raiser.”

Teddy came up for air. “What about Michael Jackson?”

“He went with him,” she said. “He likes free food.”

FORTY-NINE

Teddy pushed the doctor out of the room, slammed the door shut and flipped the lock. When he heard the doctor start pounding with his fists from the other side, he ignored it and turned to face Barnett. The window curtains were drawn, and Barnett was still confined to his bed in the darkness. He looked frightened, but he couldn’t move-his legs held together by that array of metal pins and hardware.

Teddy knew he should have gone straight to Nash and told him about Holmes’s confession. But Barnett had acted something like a father toward him ever since Teddy joined the firm. A mentor. Barnett had taken a special interest in his career, guiding him through his introduction to the legal profession. Teddy had trusted the man and admired him and made the mistake of emulating him. Now he was nowhere.

The banging stopped, followed by shouting from the hallway. Teddy moved to the window, jerking the curtain open and flooding the room with light.

“What are you gonna do?” Barnett said, shaking.

Teddy looked at the IVs in the man’s arm. He felt like pulling them out, watching Barnett squirm his way into the void where he belonged. He glanced at the chair, but didn’t sit down. For a moment he thought about his college loans, but only long enough to count up his debt. One hundred and ninety thousand dollars. Teddy didn’t care anymore.

“I closed the deal,” Barnett managed. “The death penalty’s off the table. Holmes will get the care he needs. He’ll live, for Christ’s sake.”

“Stop pretending that this is about helping Holmes,” Teddy said. “This is about you. It’s always been about you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your little secret,” Teddy said. “Your brother-in-law. The minute the story showed up in the papers, you folded. You don’t even care if he’s innocent or not. All you care about is you.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Are you afraid they’ll hear me? They already know. Everybody does. The Veggie Butcher and Jim Barnett are brothers.”

Barnett cringed. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

“I came here to ask you the same question. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“My name’s Jim Barnett,” he said through clinched teeth. “And I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“You sure do. That’s why you sold Holmes out from the beginning. You were embarrassed. You made the deal thinking you might contain the secret. Holmes never had a chance. Not with a brother like you.”

“Stop calling him my brother,” Barnett shouted. “He’s always been strange. He’s an oddball. He’s a freak.”

Teddy gave Barnett a long look, deciding that he’d let what was just said pass for now. “How did you convince Andrews to make the deal?” he asked.

“It was easy. They did the x-rays yesterday. When Andrews told me what they found underneath the paintings, I told him about the profile you and Nash put together. I think it caught Andrews by surprise. He seemed shocked by it and wanted to see it. He said he thought he needed a confession. We worked the deal out in five minutes. Holmes confessed in less than two.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

Barnett looked away and seemed to shrink. “That was Andrews’s idea,” he said after a moment. “I needed to know that what he told me about the paintings was true.”

Teddy grimaced, burying the scope of the betrayal as deep as it would go. “So now you’re saved,” he said. “You can host another treasure hunt and gloat over your picture in the society pages. If I were you I’d hire someone who knows how to handle the press. They’ll need to turn you into a victim. Tell the whole story from your point of view. You can handle the interviews from here. A picture of Jim Barnett in his hospital bed should go a long way. Holmes hurt everyone. Even you.”

“Larry Stokes already has someone in mind,” Barnett said. “You should know better than me why I did everything I could to keep the story from getting out. Look what happened to you after your father’s arrest.”

It hung there. Teddy standing motionless.

“That’s right,” Barnett said. “I know all about your goddamn father. That’s why I asked you to help me with Holmes. You’re a loser, Teddy. You don’t get it. Wake up and smell the roses. Your father’s arrest for murder ruined you and the reputation of your family. No matter what the truth was, is, or will be, you will always be Teddy Mack, the son of the architect on the Main Line who murdered his business partner. I asked for your help not because I thought you might bring something to the case. How could you at your age? I asked for your help because I thought you’d toe the line just like every other asshole who’s running from the truth. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Everything you did made things worse. Now get out and toe the line.”

The door burst open. Teddy was lunging for the bed when two security guards grabbed him from behind and tackled him down to the floor.

FIFTY

The aftermath. The done deal. It had been so ugly.

Teddy sat at the jury table and stared at the pictures of the missing look-alikes tacked to the wall. They seemed so far away. The confession changed things. Whether it was true or not, Holmes’s statement and signature on the document had a certain weight about it.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Nash asked from his desk.

“I’m okay.”

“What about something stronger?”

Teddy shook his head, then turned to the door as Gail Emerson, Nash’s assistant, entered the room with a cup of coffee. Her eyes were puffy and she appeared as upset as they were. She set the cup on the table before Teddy, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and gave Nash a worried look as she left the room. Teddy liked Gail, and sipped the coffee. It tasted fresh and hot, and he appreciated the kind gesture.