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handcuffed. And his face was as raw as a pound of lean hamburger in the I grocers meat case. He’d been beaten-severely, judging by the swelling and bruising on his face, forearms, and hands. His neck bore choke marks, and his knuckles were scraped and cut, evidence that he’d tried to give as good as he’d gotten. From the gap-necked opening in his prison grays, she glimpsed a thatch of black hair and a purple bruise that muddied his left shoulder. Some ass had spray -painted a four-inch-wide yellow stripe up his back, neck, and over his hair to the crown of his head. That same ass, or another one, had branded a huge black C on his wide forehead with what appeared to be a permanent ink marker.
    outrage immobilized her. Her heart thumped erratically. Her blood began a slow, hard boil, fueling its wild beat, and putting a furious tremor in her hand. Damn it, she should have expected this. He’d been charged, formally branded as a coward and traitor. She should have anticipated that the Heavies-or the guards-would beat Adam Burke to within an inch of his life.
    And she might have expected it, if she hadn’t been so damn preoccupied worrying about how this case would affect her life instead of thinking about how it would affect his. Damn her for blowing that. This kind of vengeance, Lady Justice didn’t need.
    Tracy turned an explain-this-now glare on the guard.
    The sergeant shuffled his feet, rested a hand on the butt of his holstered gun, and nodded toward the still-silent Burke. “We, um, found him like this first thing this morning.”
    “First thing?” Tracy pointedly looked at her watch. “It’s ten A.M., Sergeant. Has the doctor seen him yet?”
    The guard avoided her eyes and skimmed a beefy hand over his stubbly nape, rustling his hair. “Um, no, ma’am. The doc’s been pretty busy.”
    Probably sewing up the men that bad left Burke nursing raw knuckles. “I see,” she said from. between her teeth. “Would you tell the unit commander I’d like a word with him, please?”
    The guard’s eyes stretched wide. “He’s a bit busy this morning, too, ma’am.”
    “Fine.” Tracy slid the guard a chilling look and a saccharine smile. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I’ll just route my message to him through Higher Headquarters, with a copy to General Nestler.” Mentioning Laurel’s god should get some action. “What was your name, Sergeant?”
    “Maxwell, ma’am,” he said sharply, knowing as well as she that she could read his name badge from where she sat.
    His Adam’s apple bobbed hard, twice, and he looked as if he would love to handcuff her to the water tower on the far side of the base to keep her out of his way. “But I’m sure you won’t need to bother the general. Things are calming down. Let me check to see if the commander is free yet.”
    “Thank you.” She motioned to Burke, silently swearing that if she hadn’t seen photos of him in his Personnel file, she never would have known him. Why in the name of God didn’t I anticipate and prevent this? She swiveled her focus back to the sergeant. “Could you please remove the shackles and cuffs?”
    “No, ma’am,” Maxwell stammered, looking torn. “I mean, yes, ma’am, I could, but I’m not permitted to do it. Burke is Intel, ma’am. High risk. Maximum security.”
    Before she could say another word, the sergeant backed out of the room and closed the door. Staring at it, Tracy drew in and then expelled three deep breaths, steeling herself to talk with Burke. “Please sit down, Capt-” She halted abruptly, refusing to address him by a title he no longer deserved. A title she shared, and took pride in. “Please sit down.”
    Swaying slightly, he shuffled to a chair, his chains clanking against the tile. When he moved his left arm, she saw a smattering of blood on his shirt, though she didn’t see an open cut. With the number they had done on his face, the blood could have come from there, though getting it past his broad