The cop nodded back and shrugged, taking Teddy’s full name down and letting him pass without another word.

Teddy walked up the driveway, then cut along the slate path that had been cleared of snow from the last storm. Curiously, every window on the first floor of the house was open and he couldn’t help but wonder why. As he started up the steps, District Attorney Alan Andrews met him at the door.

“Where’s the package, kid?”

Teddy stopped under the weight of the man’s eyes. He realized that Andrews had looked him over, mistaking him for a messenger or law clerk.

“You’re from Barnett’s office, right?”

Teddy nodded, watching the district attorney size him up. Then the woman with blond hair reappeared, moving in behind Andrews. Teddy was nervous and knew it was showing. After a moment, their gazes eased up and Andrews came close to fighting off a smile. It didn’t take much to guess what the district attorney was thinking. Teddy wasn’t a messenger. He was a kid just out of law school with no experience. When the case got to court, Andrews would eat him for lunch.

Andrews’s half smile evaporated, and as he shook Teddy’s hand, he introduced the woman as Assistant District Attorney Carolyn Powell. Teddy shook ADA Powell’s hand as well, but Andrews broke in before he could say anything to her.

“So here’s the deal, Teddy Mack. Your client’s the friendly neighborhood mailman. Six hours ago a neighbor saw him running away from the house with blood on his clothes. She got a good look at him. Blood was all over his fucking face and hair like he was swimming in it. She’s the one who found the body and called nine-one-one. She knew her mailman by name. Oscar Holmes. Detectives looked for him at work, but he was absent without leave. Holmes rents a small apartment at Twenty-third and Pine. They spotted his mail truck out front and caught up with him there. When Holmes answered the door he was all revved up. The detectives noted the blood on his face and made the arrest. Once the warrants arrived, the guys went in and found his clothes hidden in the trash.”

Teddy cleared his throat. “What about the murder weapon?”

Andrews paused a moment, then met his eyes. “It was a knife. A big one with enough blood on it to make the lab’s ten best list. We found it buried in his mailbag with this year’s Christmas cards.”

Andrews glanced at the street, his jaw muscles flexing like a predatory animal savoring its kill. He was shorter than Teddy by half a foot, but lean and tight and built like a sledgehammer.