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“Michael,” she said sharply. She knew how important his job was, and she respected his dedication. She rarely asked him to show up to any family event, but this first track meet mattered.

He looked up, irritated by her tone. “What?”

“Betsy reminded you about her track meet. It’s at three thirty today. ”

“Oh, right. ” He put down his newspaper and there it was, the smile that had swept so many women, including Jolene, off their feet. He gave it to Betsy, full power, his handsome face crinkling in good humor. ???How could I forget my princess’s big day?”

Betsy’s smile overtook her small, pale face, showing off her braces and big, crooked teeth.

He walked over to the table, leaned down, and kissed the top of Betsy’s head and ruffled Lulu’s black hair and kept moving toward the door, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair and his briefcase off the tile counter.

Betsy beamed under his attention. “Did you know—”

He left the house, the door snapping shut behind him, snipping Betsy’s sentence in half.

She slumped forward, a rag doll emptied of stuffing.

“He didn’t hear you,” Jolene said. “You know what it’s like when he has to catch the ferry. ”

“He should have his hearing checked,” Betsy said, shoving her plate aside.

Four

Michael stood at his office window, staring out. On this cold, gray day, Seattle simmered beneath a heavy lid of clouds. Rain obscured the view, softened the hard steel edges of the high-rise buildings. Far below, messengers on bicycles darted in and out through traffic like hummingbirds.

Behind him, his intercom buzzed.

He went back to answer it. “Hey, Ann. What’s up?”

“An Edward Keller is on the phone. ”

“Do I know him?”

“Not to my knowledge. But he says it’s urgent. ”

“Put him through. ” Michael sat down behind his desk. Urgent calls from strangers were a fixture of criminal defense.

The phone rang; he picked it up.

“Michael Zarkades,” he said simply.

“Thank you for taking my call, Mr. Zarkades. I understand you’re my son’s court-appointed attorney. ”

“Who is your son?”

“Keith Keller. He was arrested for killing his wife. ”

The case Judge Runyon had assigned to Bill. “Right, Mr. Keller. I was just getting up to speed on the facts of the case. ” He rifled through the piles of papers and folders on his desk, looking for the Keller file. When he found it, he said, “Oh, right. In fact, I have an appointment with your son today at two. ”

Two o’clock.

Shit.

The track meet.

“I’m worried about him, sir. He won’t talk to me. I’d like to come in and talk to you, if you don’t mind. You need to know what a good kid he is. ”

Murder notwithstanding. “I’m sure I’ll need to talk to you soon, Mr. Keller,” Michael said. “But I need to speak with my client first. Did you give my secretary your number?”