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already. She had maybe eight weeks left. Pacific Park was this kid's favorite place and she wanted him to have a good day. So we went. There was an accident. Tim fell and we had to ride that thing all the way down to the ground looking at him all crumpled beneath us. So how come they're crying murder?''
    Archer dropped his head. He put the heels of his hands to his eyes. Josie expected something more. When he remained silent, she asked:
    ''Did you know you were under investigation?''
    He shook his head again, this time adamantly. If there was pain, he didn't show it.
    ''I don't know what anybody thinks they're doing,'' Archer growled. ''That kid's death was an accident. I don't even know what caused it because I never asked. I just wanted to take care of Lexi. Maybe Tim caused the accident himself. Jesus, Jo, he was a mess. He was retarded. He had a degenerative muscle disease. He had some lung problems. The whole thing was a damn nightmare and it happened two years ago and only God and the DA know why it's so damned important.''
    Archer's red rimmed eyes flashed with anger and fear. Josie understood the first; she was shocked to see the other. If Archer were innocent, there was nothing to fear. But she looked again and readjusted her thinking. Hannah had been accused of murder. Hannah had been convicted. Hannah had been innocent. It had been sheer luck, Josie's moment of clarity at the eleventh hour. That's what saved Hannah. Josie would be smarter this time. She would look at this from every angle, turn over every rock until she found the truth.
    Truth.
    She brushed away the thought that truth might not be what she'd want to find – at least when it came to Archer's guilt or innocence. But there was one truth she wanted told that very instant and she wanted to be looking right at Archer when he answered her question.
    ''Jesus, Archer, why didn't you tell me about. . .''
    The door opened. A uniformed officer was in the doorway.
    ''Ten minutes, counselor,'' the man said.
    Josie checked her watch. A little before two. The bus would be leaving and Archer was going to be on it unless she took care of business fast. Josie waved the cop away and realized the question she was going to ask was not relevant in this room.
    ''Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. It was your business. You didn't owe me anything when it was just about us, but things have changed. You're going to have a whole lot of people wanting to know this story.'' Josie put her palms flat on the table. ''Right now let's get practical. We won't bother with a bail hearing – no way is a judge going to entertain a reduction if we're talking about the death of a disabled child. We'll suck up the ten percent on the million dollar bail. I've got fifty thousand. You put up the paper on the apartment building and that will give us more than we need to get you out of here.''
    Archer shook his head.
    ''No. I'm not going to let you loose fifty grand because somebody's screwing with me. No bail. I'll take care of it.''
    ''How? From a cell? Jesus, you're a cop.''
    ''I'm a retired cop,'' Archer shot back.
    ''Like someone's going to check your pension and cut you some slack once you're behind bars? Like being retired is going to make a difference where they put the shank in you? You know the two things cons hate most in the world are a cop and a guy who messes with kids. You've struck out, Archer, so take my money and worry about how it's going to make you feel later.''
    ''I'll put up the apartment building, but I won't take your money,'' Archer said. ''That building's worth a bundle. It will cover the bail.''
    ''And the court isn't going to just take paper. They're going to want cash. I've got it. I'll put up my house if you don't want to risk your place but. . .''
    The door opened again. This time the uniformed officer was young and fresh faced. He sported the kind of pretty that came from razor haircuts and pressed pants and a gun that had never been fired, hands that hadn't quite dirtied