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to review everything and are comfortable offering your own opinion. In the meantime, I’ve instructed everyone concerned to give you all the information you need.”
    It was hard not to be affected by her apparent sincerity. “I’ll do my best to get up to speed quickly. How do we stay in touch, you and I?”
    Just then, I heard the door to the room open and someone slip in.
    â€œThat’s another reason I asked you to come here today,” O’Malley said. “I’m afraid it won’t be me. The newspapers haven’t gotten ahold of it yet, but it seems I’m five months pregnant after years of failed attempts. My doctor is worried about gestational diabetes and preeclampsia, so he’s ordered me off my feet for the next several months. It couldn’t come at a worse time, but you can imagine the political heat I’d be taking if I ignored his advice and miscarried. Not to mention the fact that my husband and I would really like to have this baby. Instead, you’ll be working with one of my most trusted deputies. If I’m not mistaken, you two already know each other.”
    The anonymous newcomer had come up to stand behind my chair.
    I swiveled in my seat and tilted my head up quizzically.
    â€œHello, Dottore ,” Tony Di Marco said. “ Come stai? ”

SEVEN
    Assistant State’s Attorney Tony Di Marco fell into the rapidly expanding class of people I had never laid eyes on, though Hallie had given me a snapshot during our first case. Back then, she’d called him a “charming pirate.” Later, when she wanted to tease me, she said that except for the coloring—Di Marco’s hair and eyes were as black as an oil spill—we could be cousins. I hoped the similarities ended there. If I respected Di Marco at all, it was only because he was good at what he did and never pretended to be anything but a rank opportunist. Defense lawyers hated him, and not just because he won over juries like most people win over their mothers. Though no one had ever been able to prove it, Di Marco was said to be as good at making exculpatory evidence “disappear” as Harry Houdini.
    After O’Malley and her other lieutenants departed, I was left alone in the conference room with Di Marco and Michelle Rogers, who I now understood would be the only two assistants trying the case. I was only mildly surprised. If I knew Di Marco, his main objective would be grabbing as many headlines for himself as he could.
    â€œPretty lean staffing,” I observed. “Are you sure your ego can handle it?”
    Di Marco answered in his usual insolent drawl. “I could do it without any help if I had to. With the confession and everything else we have on Lazarus, trial shouldn’t last more than a week. But my last three panels have been eighty percent women, so I need Michelle here to show our sympathy for the ladies.”
    I was sure Michelle appreciated being treated like a token.
    â€œUnless they happen to be ladies who strike back at their abusers,” I said.
    Michelle, still sitting beside me, suppressed a snicker.
    Di Marco laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re on Lazarus’s side.”
    â€œIt seems pretty clear she was a victim too.”
    â€œDon’t believe everything you hear in the media. I’ve been all over her medical records. Lazarus went to the emergency room once the entire time she and Westlake were married, and then only for a broken wrist she said she got from falling down the basement stairs.”
    â€œWhat about the bruises and black eyes I read about in the papers?”
    â€œWithout doctor visits or pictures, it’s just somebody’s say-so. And the only ones saying are Lazarus’s friends, who’d like nothing better than to get her off.”
    â€œThe 911 calls?”
    â€œWe only found two records, both more than ten years old. Lazarus refused to swear out a complaint when the cops