You’ve been like a son to me, Teddy. I need your help now.”

The door swung open and Jill Sykes walked in with a notepad. Jill had been a student at Penn Law one year behind Teddy and managed to get a job at the firm as a law clerk without knowing anyone while she prepared for her bar exams. She had a witty sense of humor and the ability to cut to the bottom line in an instant. Although Teddy had seen her on campus last year, even found her attractive, they hadn’t met until she was hired by the firm. Over the past three months, they had become good friends.

“Thanks,” Barnett said to her. “Did you get the address?”

She nodded, tearing a sheet of paper from her pad and handing it to Teddy with a look. It was Darlene Lewis’s address in Chestnut Hill. The murder scene. Barnett slipped the bottle of Tylenol into his jacket pocket and turned to Teddy.

“Now get going,” Barnett said. “And be careful. My guess is the district attorney will be there. The way I see it, we’re gonna cop a plea and then play let’s make a deal. I want to avoid headlines at all costs. Be polite, and don’t believe what you’re hearing around town. Alan Andrews is Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Osama bin Laden rolled into one pint-sized motherfucking asshole. He’s on the political fast track. We need to keep things friendly, you understand?”

Barnett’s charm was back. Teddy nodded, grabbing his briefcase and heading out the door.


 

 

 

 

THREE

 

 

 

The elevator dropped from the seventeenth floor, and Teddy felt his stomach break loose from his body and slam against the back of his throat. When the doors finally opened, he stepped into the garage letting the dread follow him to his car. He found his beat-up Corolla parked between a restored Jaguar and a BMW 740i, complete with sport package. His Corolla had a hundred and twenty-five thousand miles under its rusting body. Something about the sight of his old friend in these surroundings brought a smile to his face and the tension eased.

He backed the Corolla out of the space and pulled up the exit ramp into the light, noting the time and quickly considering his route. There was no easy way in or out of Chestnut Hill, but he was ahead of rush hour traffic by almost an hour. Avoiding the expressway just in case, he turned up the Benjamin Franklin Parkway, hit the circle before the art museum and shot down Kelly Drive.

The road followed the winding path of the Schuylkill River, and it looked as if a thick fog was settling in. He checked the trees and noticed the wind had died off. As he passed Boathouse Row, he saw the buildings buried in the fallen clouds and couldn’t help but think of brighter days in the warm sunlight. Teddy loved sculling, and had been a varsity rower as an undergraduate at Penn. Now he was on his way to a crime scene. A young girl had been killed and he was representing the man who murdered her.