Deadlocked

tell you what I think.'

'That's not what I want. I want the governor to pardon Ryan. I've read up on it. He can do it even after they took my son from me.'

Mason sat back in his chair, looking at Mary Kowalczyk. She was a small woman made smaller by her thin, tired face, and the grief she wore like makeup. Her pants were worn at the knees, the cuffs and collar of her blouse frayed, the heels of her shoes scuffed flat. She wore a gold cross around her neck, though Mason was certain it wasn't real gold. Her dark eyes flashed, mirroring her determination. Saving her son's life had been her entire life. Saving his memory was all she

had left.

'Is that it?' Mason asked.

'No. There is one other thing. I want you to prove that Whitney King killed those people. That boy should not be allowed to live another day pretending he had nothing to do with the killings!'

'I don't suppose I could interest you in the moon and the stars instead.'

'Mr. Mason,' she snapped, 'I recognized your name when I heard the prosecuting attorney introduce you to the warden, but I couldn't remember why. It came to me yesterday. I've read about you in the papers. If you tell me you could get me the moon and the stars, I'd believe you. I only want justice for my son. I'll take it from you or I'll take it myself if I have to. Please don't make a joke out of that.'

Mason rose, circling his office once again, passing the books on his shelves that laid out the law, the files for clients who depended on him, the dry erase board where he worked out the puzzles of his cases, stopping behind his desk. He rubbed his hand across his chest, feeling the scar left by the surgeon who'd saved his life after he'd been stabbed ten months earlier. He'd nearly died saving the life of Abby Lieberman, the woman he loved. Mary Kowalczyk only wanted him to save the memory of the son she loved. That didn't sound so tough. He looked at her again, wondering if there was more than grief behind her threat to take justice in her own hands.

'I'll start with the court file. See where it goes,' he said, not wanting to over promise.

'I can pay you,' Mary said. 'My husband bought a life insurance policy for Ryan when he was born. It was for ten thousand dollars.'

Mason shook his head. 'You keep that money.'

'I'd sooner burn it than spend it on myself, Mr. Mason. Either you take it and do the job right or I'll give it to the church.'

'You don't give up, do you Mary?' he said.

'Not when I'm right, Mr. Mason.'

'Please,' he told her. 'Call me Lou.'

Chapter 5

'Who was that woman?' Blues asked, walking into Mason's office unannounced, his tall, muscled frame shrinking the space between the door and Mason's desk.

Mason stood in front of his dry erase board, studying the names of Ryan Kowalczyk and Whitney King written in blue connected by red lines to the names of Graham and Elizabeth Byrnes. Mason was a visual thinker, preferring to chart the progress of a case on his board, crisscrossing the connections between people, places, and things until he found the pattern that tied them all together. He wrote Mary Kowalczyk's name, circled it in green and tied it to Ryan, doing the same with Nick and his parents.

'Mary Kowalczyk,' Mason said. 'She doesn't like you.'

'She was staring at me from the hall. I thought I recognized her. That's one mean woman.'

'Mary?' Mason asked, plopping into his desk chair, leaning back, feet propped on his desk. 'That woman doesn't have a mean bone in her body.'

'You try arresting her son,' Blues said. 'Forget the bones. Her whole body is mean.' Blues sat in the middle of the sofa, spreading his arms out, nearly covering its length.

'Mothers are protective,' Mason said.

'She's way past that. Called me a dirty Indian. Came at me with a butcher knife. I wanted to take her in too, but Harry talked me out of it.'

Mason dropped his feet to the floor, unable to conjure a picture of Mary as a bigot or attacking a police officer. Blues was tough enough to ignore ethnic slurs in emotionally charged situations. He was less forgiving of assault.

'She says you threw her son against the wall.'

'Damn right I did. Harry found both the kids' clothes in the basement. They were covered with the victims' blood. I found the Kowalczyk kid trying to climb out his bedroom window. Mary came running in the kid's bedroom, screaming like a banshee, ready to open me up with that knife.'

'You're a foot and a half taller and outweigh her by a hundred and fifty pounds. Don't tell me you were scared?'

'I'll tell you something, Lou. Every time I went into someone's house I was scared because I never knew what I was going to run into. Nicest house, nicest looking people. Sure as hell, some asshole throws a brain clot and comes out shooting. A little woman like that catches you from behind, puts that knife in your ribs. Trust me, you'd be scared too. No doubt in my mind she'd have done it if she could have. What's she want from you?'

Mason shook his head. 'She made me promise to leave you out of it.'

Blues stood, crossing to the dry erase board. 'Don't say as I blame her if it's got anything to do with those murders,' he said, turning to face Mason, his coppery skin and jet black hair offset by the white board. 'That boy was guilty. Fact is both of them were guilty.'

'You think I can prove Whitney King was guilty?' Mason asked.

Blues smiled. 'I thought you were supposed to leave me out of it.'

'Hypothetical question,' Mason said.

'The prosecutor couldn't get the job done and he was a damn good lawyer. Forest Jones. Patrick Ortiz was just starting out, carrying Jones's briefcase into court every morning. You're good enough. Trouble is you're fifteen years too late.'

'Feel like helping me?'

Blues looked at him, chewing his lip. 'Is this just about King?'

Mason stood, measuring himself against his friend. 'No,' he answered. 'She wants me to prove Ryan was innocent. She wants her son pardoned.'

Blues raised his hands. 'Figured it was something like that. Count me out.'

'Why?' Mason challenged him. 'Because you arrested Ryan? Now he's dead and you might have been wrong?'

Blues dropped his arms to his sides, his face slack, eyes hard. Mason knew that look. It was Blues at his most dangerous, sizing up a situation, deciding whether to wade in or walk away. If he waded in and wasn't on your side, you were in big trouble.

'That kid was guilty as sin. Bank on it,' he said and left.

'Shit!' Mason said, angry with himself.

He had jumped Blues without reason. Yet the accusation gave voice to the thing that had gnawed at Mason since Ryan Kowalczyk uttered his last words. What if Ryan was innocent? What if Mason had stood by watching an innocent man be put to death? That he couldn't have done anything to stop it changed nothing. He was there. He was a witness. Blues might be able to walk away, certain of both guilt and justice, unwilling to question either. Mason couldn't.

The phone rang, jarring Mason. 'Yeah?' he answered.

'Good morning to you too, Sunshine,' his Aunt Claire said. 'Who stepped on your toes so early in the day?'

Mason took a breath. His aunt was the antidote for whatever ailed him. Too lazy and she kicked him in the ass. Too cocky and she took him down a peg. Too moody and she lightened him up.

'An old case that I'm going to take another look at,' Mason said, explaining about his new client.