Chapter 26

McCoy rubbed his eyes as he pushed away from his computer screen, then stood up and pulled his wallet out to pay the delivery girl for his lunch. Taking the bag to the sofa, he stepped out of his shoes and settled into a comfortable position to eat his lunch. After a couple of bites of his Rueben, he checked his watch. Carmichael still hadn't called and her flight was due to leave Chicago within minutes.

The morning had been relatively quiet, given in part to the fact that he had ignored calls from Parker and two of the other partners' attorneys. Briscoe had called mid-morning to report that a detective in a Chicago precinct had tentatively identified the men from the composites he had sent. They were expecting more information later in the day.

He was almost finished with his sandwich when Carmichael finally called.

"It's been a long morning. I would've missed my return flight if it hadn't been delayed," she reported. "The hospital records were in storage and it took a little while to retrieve them. The only nurse on duty who worked there four years ago didn't recognize Calea's picture. But once I had the records, I tracked down the doctor who was on duty and treated her. He's in private practice now and I just came from talking with him. He remembered her and signed an affidavit."

Encouraged by the news, McCoy said, "That's good. It sounds like you have what we need."

"I suppose so," Carmichael answered noncommittally.

He was curious at her response given the useful information she had gathered. "Is everything all right, Abbie?"

She sighed into the phone. "Yeah, everything is just great." After a brief hesitation she added, "They're boarding my flight so I'd better go. I'll come to the office as soon as I get in."

McCoy hung up the phone thoughtfully. Maybe she was only tired. He made a mental note to make sure she left at a reasonable hour that evening.

***He was on the phone when Carmichael came in. She sat on the sofa while he finished talking.

"That was Briscoe," he told her, replacing the receiver. "A detective in Chicago has identified the two men who hired Latham. He's going to pick them up and send them to us as soon as he finds them."

"That's good news," Carmichael noted.

McCoy studied her for a moment. A file folder sat conspicuously on her lap but she made no attempt to hand it to him.

"Is it that bad?" he asked.

Staring at the folder in her hands, she shrugged. "We look at things like this all the time, some of it a lot worse. You get used to it." She looked up at him, her dark eyes solemn. "It's just a little different when the victim is a friend."

"So it is that bad," he amended quietly.

Carmichael took a deep breath. "Although none show her face, there are some photos that are fairly graphic. The report on her injuries is appalling. But I guess what’s bothering me most is what isn't in the folder. The doctor who treated her remembered her well. Besides the broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, and other wounds, he was concerned about some internal injuries and wasn't sure she would make it on her own after he treated her and she left." She paused and diverted her eyes to the folder again. "He also said she exhibited classic signs of rape when she came in. There were bruises on her thighs and arms, she asked for a female doctor, and was reluctant to allow him to examine and treat her. He wanted to do a rape kit but she wouldn't allow it. He was also positive she knew her attacker even though she denied it."

McCoy bit his lip, trying to quell his conflicting emotions. After a few quiet moments he said, "I'm sorry, Abbie. I should’ve sent someone else."

She shook her head. "You didn't know. And I would rather it had been me than someone who doesn't know her." Carmichael stood up and laid the file on the desk in front of him. "When you're deciding what to use, try to be discreet, Jack."

The file was right in front of him; all he had to do was open it. But as he sat staring at it, he couldn't bring himself to do so.

Carmichael was already out of the door when he called her back.

Pushing the folder toward her, he said, "Give Calea a call. Let her take a look at what we have. She can take out anything she doesn't want us to use."

Giving him a surprised look, she picked it up. "I know she'll appreciate that. Thanks, Jack."

***Carmichael looked up from her desk as someone approached her opened door.

"Hey. Come in," she motioned. "I would've come to your office. You didn't have to come all this way," she offered as Morgan walked in slowly and took the chair across from her.

"That's okay. I needed to get out. Going from the hotel to my office and back every day is getting monotonous. I welcome any change of pace, even coming here," she noted lightly.

With a half-hearted smile Carmichael said, "Gee, thanks." Her smile faded as she handed the folder across her desk. "We may as well get this over with."

Morgan took it from her and sat back. "I was surprised to hear from you. You must have made a turn-around trip."

"It was pretty quick," she agreed. As Morgan opened the file, Carmichael got up and closed the door to her office. Returning to her chair she felt decidedly uncomfortable and wondered if she should have offered to give the other woman some privacy.

After having turned a couple of pages, Morgan began chewing the inside of her lip. "I had forgotten about the photos."

"You can take out whatever you want."

With a slight nod she continued turning pages over after briefly studying each.

Carmichael thumbed absentmindedly through a notepad. "I can't believe you made it out of the hospital without help. You were in pretty bad shape."

Glancing up at her, Morgan smiled slightly. "They gave me good drugs. I didn't feel much at the time." She continued looking at the photos and added casually, "As I remember it, the hard part was getting down the stairs. Whatever they gave me messed up my depth perception."

"Why did you leave?"

Shrugging, Morgan answered, "I knew the doctor had followed procedure and called the police. I couldn't take a chance on being recognized."

"You could’ve stayed and turned the S.O.B. in," she suggested.

"I could have."

"Why didn't you, Calea? He nearly killed you. He should've paid for what he did."

"I had my reasons," Morgan replied vaguely.

Carmichael tried unsuccessfully to suppress the annoyance she was feeling. "I can't think of any good reason not to report some guy who beat the hell out of you," she stated bluntly. "And why did you stay with him so long? You should've turned him in at the first sign of violence. You didn't have to put up with that, especially not for twelve years."

Morgan closed the file and stood up, dropping it on the chair. She crossed her arms and paced the length of the office, avoiding the other woman's intense eyes. "You can't understand unless you've been there, Abbie. And now that I'm no longer in that situation, sometimes when I hear about some battered woman, I even find myself wondering how she could've put up with it. Walking away sounds like such an easy thing to do." She shook her head impatiently, focusing on the floor. "I don't know how to explain it. All I can tell you is that when you love and respect a man who swears he loves you, and he tells you often enough how worthless you are, and how fortunate you are to have him in your life, and that you will never find anyone else, you begin to believe it. You become dependant on him for your happiness because he convinces you that you need him in order to be happy. As women we like to think we're strong enough and we've progressed enough not to be so affected by the opinions of the men in our lives. But the truth is, those opinions are often more important to us than our own." Morgan picked up the file and sat down wearily. "It doesn't happen the way you think. It happens slowly and very subtly. It becomes a part of your life before you even realize it. You can't remember when it started and you can't even begin to figure out how to stop it."

Carmichael was thoughtful, trying to understand something that seemed unfathomable to her. "You were a successful attorney. Didn't what happened at home affect your work?"

"Not really. It was like I was two different people. I was very much in control of my professional life and I worked very hard to be the best I could be at that one part of my life. And strangely enough Frank was proud of my accomplishments. But that was the only aspect of my life I was in control of. He controlled everything else."

Looking into the other woman's eyes, Carmichael shook her head. "I still don't understand why you didn't turn him in. He viciously beat you and raped you, then went on with his life like nothing ever happened. He should be rotting in prison."

"I don't recall seeing anything in this file about rape," Morgan retorted warily.

"I saw the pictures of the bruises, Calea. And the doctor I talked to said he was sure you had been. If it wasn't rape, then when did you give your consent? Before he beat you up or after?"

Morgan turned her attention back to the folder. "I'm going to take all of the photos if you don't mind."

After a frustrated sigh Carmichael agreed, "That's fine."

"I appreciate you allowing me to do this."

"It wasn't my idea. Jack is the one who suggested it."

Morgan looked at her sharply, then continued pulling the photos out of the file. "Do you want to look at what I'm taking to make sure it isn't something he wants to use?"

Carmichael leaned forward. "He hasn't decided what to use yet. He told me to call you before he even opened the file. I guess he was trying to spare your feelings."

After regarding her for a moment, Morgan shook her head as if she didn't quite understand. "I guess I should thank him. Is he in his office?"

"He should be," Carmichael answered, pulling an envelope from a drawer and handing it across her desk. "If he isn't I'll find him for you."

Taking the envelope and slipping the photos inside, Morgan said, "Thanks, Abbie." She stood up and handed the folder back. "Call me if we get any invitations to go running this weekend."

Carmichael nodded. "I will."

***At the quiet knock, McCoy glanced up from his work.

"Come in," he beckoned as he sat back in his chair. "Have a seat."

Morgan sat on the sofa across from him, concentrating on the manila envelope in her hands.

"Abbie said it was your idea to let me look through the information she brought back from Chicago. I wanted to thank you."

"I knew you didn't think we would find anything so it only seemed fair to let you see it first and take out anything you didn't want us to use."

She looked at him intensely. "She also said you waited to look at the file until I had."

His voice was quiet. "I understand how difficult this is for you and how much you value your privacy, Calea. I wish we didn't have to use any of the information Abbie found but I can't see a way around it. All I can do is try to make things as painless as possible."

"I appreciate that." Glancing at the envelope she explained, "I only took the photos. I didn't really think they were necessary to accomplish your purpose. Abbie seemed to think what was left would be enough."

"I'm sure it will be." He was watching her carefully. "How are things going at your office? Any more threats?"

"No, it's been quiet. Busy, but quiet." She glanced at her watch. "Which reminds me, I should be going. I still have one more appointment today."

As she stood up, McCoy sat forward. "When you're finished, why don't you let me come by and take you to get something to eat?"

Morgan stopped at the door. "Thanks, but I'm not sure how long I'll be. And I have an early appointment tomorrow."

"Maybe another time," he suggested.

Without even nodding, she indicated the envelope. "Thanks again for letting me take these."

"You're welcome. Be careful going back to your office."

She hesitated a moment and then turned back to face him. "Of all the former partners, Michael Lockhardt is the most reasonable. He was the senior partner and the rest of us all looked up to him. If you can convince him, the other two will most likely follow suit."

McCoy nodded thoughtfully. "I'll approach him first. Thanks for the tip."

With a nod she said, "I hope it helps."

When she was out of his line of sight, he let out a sigh. He wasn't looking forward to his next task. After a few more minutes of procrastination, he got up and walked down the hallway to Carmichael's office.

He stood in front of her desk with his hands in his pockets. "Call Michael Lockhardt's attorney and set up a meeting here for tomorrow morning."

"What about the other two?"

"I want to speak with Lockhardt alone first. Calea thinks if we turn him the other two will go along."

"And Tyler's attorney? Susan said he called again."

"Let him wait. When I go see Tyler I want to be able to tell him he's on his own. I'd like to send the other three back to Chicago before I even meet with him."

Carmichael nodded and picked up the file. "I guess you want to look through this now."

He took it from her reluctantly. "Not really. But if I’m going to use it, I suppose I don’t have much of a choice."

When he didn't immediately turn to go, Carmichael said, "She told me why she didn't leave him, Jack." At McCoy's questioning look she added, "After you finish looking that over, if you want to go get a drink somewhere we could talk."

He nodded. "I'll come and get you when I'm done."

After he had returned to his own office, he closed the door and sat down at his desk. It took a few more minutes before he was finally able to bring himself to open the folder and pick up the first sheet of paper.

***"Calea, how does the rest of your morning look?" McCoy asked.

Even over the phone he could hear the "what now" suspicion in her voice.

"I need to prepare for a meeting I have this afternoon. Why?"

"Michael Lockhardt is at my office with his lawyer. We've presented the evidence found in Tyler's home to them and Lockhardt is understandably upset. He didn't know the files existed. We also showed him the information Abbie found." He hesitated a second. "He wants to talk with you, off the record. He says he needs to hear from you that what we're saying is true. Would you be willing to come in and speak with him?"

She was silent for several seconds. "He has the evidence right in front of him. I don't know what more I can tell him." After another pause she asked, "Do you honestly think my talking with him will help?"

"He's pretty angry about the files. I can't be sure but my instincts tell me he's ready to turn on Tyler and cut his losses. If he believes you, I think that will tip the scale. But I don't know what kind of relationship you had with him. You would know better than I if he will listen to you. It's your call."

She sighed deeply into the phone. "I'll be there shortly."

***McCoy held the door open for Morgan and Carmichael to enter the conference room. Lockhardt, a man in his sixties with thinning hair and piercing brown eyes, was already seated with his lawyer when the other three attorneys filed in and sat as well.

When Morgan was seated across the table from him, Lockhardt wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Is it true? Did Frank do this to you?" he asked, sliding the folder toward her.

Without taking her eyes off of his, she pushed it back across the table. "Yes," she answered simply.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"I didn't see the need to discuss my personal life with my business associates," Morgan responded coldly. "And I really didn't think you would take my word over Frank's. The fact that you believed him when he told you I was willing to accept a bribe convinced me I was right."

"You should've told me, Calea. If I had known what he did, everything would've been different. We would've reconsidered what you told us about Harrison."

Morgan regarded him thoughtfully before replying slowly, "Let me see if I understand this. You're saying that knowing I was a battered wife would've lent me a credibility that working as an attorney with you for sixteen years didn't?"

Lockhardt leaned forward. "That's not what I'm saying at all. But I don't think Harrison came to us by chance. I think Frank was responsible for the whole deal. And had we known what he was capable of, we would've given second thought to the things he said to convince us to take Harrison on."

Her eyes were flashing as Morgan leaned toward him. "You have a lot of nerve saying I didn't do enough to persuade you, Michael. We were all faced with the same decision. You wanted the power and prestige Harrison dangled in front of us. You made an informed choice, and you can't blame me because it was the wrong one."

"You offered us absolutely no proof, only a couple of half-baked assumptions. None of us knew what Harrison was like when we accepted him as a client."

"You didn't want to know!" Morgan angrily accused. "And even if what you say is true, what about later when you were certain? What about the first time he asked you to do something unethical or to look the other way when you knew you were doing favors for people working hand-in-hand with organized crime? You could’ve walked away then."

Lockhardt sat back in his chair and folded his arms. His voice held a note of resignation. "What would you have me say, Calea? Do you want me to say you were right and I was wrong? Will that make you happy?"

Morgan looked down at the table and shook her head sadly. "There was a time when I thought hearing you say those words would make me happy. But I was wrong about that, too." When she met his eyes again, hers were defiant. "It wasn't my idea to present this information to you and I'm not here to ask you to help me. I’m here because this is what I have to do in order to clear my client of an unjust charge that will ruin his life. You have to decide for yourself whether or not you still believe what Frank told you about me four years ago. Then, you do whatever you think is right."

He studied her in silence for several moments, then turned to McCoy who was seated at the far end of the table. "I'll have to speak with Kevin Ryan and Stan Greenberg. We'll need some time to make a decision."

"You have until 5:00 today," McCoy informed him resolutely. "I can tell you that Andrew Compton has assured me he will take your cooperation in this matter into consideration regarding the charges you will be facing back in Chicago. And if you do decide not to stand behind Tyler, we're prepared to send the three of you back as early as tomorrow morning. But this offer is only good for the three of you. You are to discuss nothing about it with Tyler or his attorney."

Lockhardt nodded and glanced at Morgan. Picking up the file from the table, he handed it to his lawyer, then stood up. He paused a second before leaving. "I would've believed you, Calea," he said quietly.

When he and his attorney had gone, Morgan let out a shaky breath and rested her elbows on the table, rubbing her forehead. Seeming to suddenly remember they were present, she looked at Carmichael and McCoy, then sat back in her chair.

"I think he'll give you what you want," she noted.

"I don't think he would have if you hadn't come in," Carmichael observed. "He was very reluctant to help earlier."

Morgan stood up. "I should be going."

"Do you have a minute?" McCoy asked quickly.

Her answer was hesitant. "Not really."

"Can I at least walk you downstairs?"

"All right."

As they left the conference room, Carmichael headed toward her office. Morgan and McCoy turned in the opposite direction and were joined by the assigned officers when they passed the reception area.

They were all standing quietly waiting for the elevator when McCoy turned to them. "We'll meet you in the lobby." Looking at Morgan he suggested, "Let's take the stairs."

She glanced at the officers, then nodded her consent to McCoy and walked with him down the hallway.

Once they had entered the stairwell and started down the steps he said, "I was wondering if you had time for lunch."

"I'll have to spend lunch preparing for my meeting this afternoon since I took time to come here."

"You know, I'm beginning to think you're trying to avoid me, Counselor," he noted lightly.

"We’ve seen each other four of the last five days. I hardly consider that avoiding you."

"That's different. I was hoping for the opportunity to sit down and talk."

"About what?" she asked flatly.

He paused for a second. "I'd like to talk with you about some of the things you said on Wednesday."

"Why?"

"Because I'd really like to understand and find a way to help if possible."

Stopping on a landing between floors, Morgan turned to him. "What is there to understand? I'm the same person I was when we met a few months ago. I haven't changed. The only thing that has changed is your knowledge of my past. And that isn’t something I chose to share with you."

Looking into her eyes, he asked quietly, "And now that I know, am I supposed to pretend it didn't happen? I'm I supposed to be unaffected by what I read in your medical file? You can't expect me to act as though what Tyler did to you is of no consequence."

She turned away from him and continued down the stairs. "I really don't want to have this discussion with you right now, Jack."

They arrived at the ground floor and McCoy reached for the handle of the door leading out of the stairwell. But he didn't immediately open it. Instead, he stood looking at her.

"Would I be correct in assuming you would rather not have this discussion ever?" he questioned pointedly.

Morgan shrugged. "I can't say I see any point." Reaching up to rub her neck, she reminded him tiredly, "I have to go."

He regarded her for a few seconds more, then pulled the door open and followed her out to walk down the hallway to the lobby. Without a word, he stopped a few feet from the waiting officers and watched as Morgan joined them. He turned around before they reached the exit.

***McCoy entered Carmichael's office just after 5:00. "Lockhardt's attorney called. All three partners have agreed that they were misinformed about the money paid to Calea. And they're all willing to testify against Tyler if we go to trial."

Carmichael nodded with satisfaction. "Finally. Three down, one to go. Now all we have to deal with is Tyler."

"I'm going out to Riker's to meet with him and Parker tomorrow morning. I know it's your day off, but do you want to come with me?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Carmichael assured him. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when we tell him about the others."

"I wish I could share your enthusiasm. This is one meeting I'm not looking forward to," he admitted decisively, turning for the door. "I'll meet you here at 10:00 in the morning."

***McCoy followed Carmichael into the stark room where Tyler and Parker were waiting. He thought he was sufficiently prepared for seeing Tyler again. He had worked hard to convince himself that Tyler was just like any other suspect accused of committing a crime. But once face-to-face with him, McCoy found his anger threatening to surface. He sat back in his chair and relaxed, taking careful control of his emotions.

"May I ask why it's taken you so long to agree to meet with us?" Parker asked curtly. "I've been calling your office since Wednesday."

"We've been rather busy," McCoy answered. "Our conspiracy to commit murder case against your client is coming along quite nicely. We've been reviewing evidence all week."

"What evidence? As we speak the Chicago D.A.'s office is investigating our charges against Ms. Morgan. Your judge may buy the anonymous informant routine now, but once Calea is charged with unlawfully entering my client's home and taking confidential files therefrom, he will be forced to reverse his decision. Your evidence will disappear."

"She wasn't in your client's home. Someone else gave those files to her and she's willing to testify to that fact in court," McCoy stated.

"Given to her by whom?" Parker questioned skeptically.

"I'm sure you realize I'm not at liberty to discuss that information with you," he hedged. "But as you can see, the investigation by the Chicago authorities will not result in charges being brought against Ms. Morgan."

"I don’t necessarily agree," Parker argued, "especially since how she acquired the files isn't the only thing the D.A. is investigating. He's also looking into our conspiracy accusations."

"That investigation will be fruitless as well." He glanced at Carmichael as she pulled a file from her briefcase and laid it in front of Parker. "We know why your client convinced his partners to pay her such a large sum of money."

As Parker opened the file, Carmichael added, "And after carefully examining the information in front of you for themselves, the other three partners know the real reason as well."

She turned her attention to Tyler, who sat quietly observing. The gray of the nondescript prison uniform only made his eyes look bluer. At her comment, he looked over the shoulder of his lawyer curiously.

"Your former partners are on their way back to Chicago, Mr. Tyler, where they will answer for their involvement with Harrison," McCoy informed him. "And as far as you're concerned, they have each expressed their willingness to testify to the fact that they were misinformed as to the reason your ex-wife was paid off."

It took only a matter of seconds for Tyler to understand the information his attorney had spread on the table in front of them. When he looked up at McCoy, his eyes revealed his fury.

It took Parker a little longer to scan the material and come to a conclusion. "So you're alleging Ms. Morgan was injured in some way and checked into a hospital under an assumed name? I fail to see the relevance to our allegations."

Carmichael crossed her arms. "The others saw the relevance. And I'm sure your client can explain it since he's the one who inflicted those injuries on her."

Although Parker's practiced expression remained carefully neutral, his quick look at Tyler was enough to convince the D.A.'s that he had no prior knowledge of his client's actions.

Noticing Tyler's anger, Parker quickly told him, "I advise you to keep silent, Frank."

His eyes still locked with McCoy's, Tyler didn't take the advice. "If the others were gullible enough to believe this fabrication Calea concocted, that's their problem. It won't stop the investigation into her involvement."

McCoy's voice was calm and controlled. "Are you denying you're responsible for beating her? If you didn't, who did?"

"I don't know that anyone did," Tyler retorted evasively. "That hospital report could've been from anyone. Just because you convinced someone to say it was Calea doesn't make it true. So basically you're left with my word against hers."

"It isn't only her word. Two other people found out what you did to her right after it happened," Carmichael argued.

"Who?" Tyler demanded.

"Peter Fairchild and E.A.D.A. Andrew Compton," she replied.

"Hearsay," Tyler shrugged.

"I'm sure they will be more than willing to describe Ms. Morgan's physical state at the time to a jury, and their reasons for suspecting you of the assault," McCoy countered.

"Unless they were witnesses, their testimony will be excluded," Parker stated.

"And none of this proves anything about the reason she was paid," Tyler insisted.

McCoy glared at him. "It explains why she took the money. As to why you paid it, considering the other partners' change of heart it will only be your word against hers. I think a jury will buy her side of the story once they see the evidence and learn what you've been involved in since then."

Tyler sat back. "Calea doesn't have a shred of proof for her accusations against me. But I do have evidence to back up my claim about her."

"Oh?" McCoy asked. "And what would that be?"

Tyler smiled confidently. "I have the check register from the draft made out to her with a notation regarding the reason for payment written right on it. And it's signed and dated by one of the secretaries who worked for the firm at the time. I'm sure she'll confirm it's her signature."

"Was that the same secretary you were sleeping with?" McCoy retorted sarcastically.

Shaking his head in amusement, Tyler said, "Give me a little more credit than that. Actually, it was Michael Lockhardt's secretary who performed that duty, although I doubt she was aware of exactly what she was signing or why."

Realization spread across McCoy's face. "You set Calea up for this eventuality four years ago. You manufactured evidence to support the lie you told to your partners in case something like this happened."

"You'll never be able to prove that. But between you and me, Jack, I'm a man who believes in insurance." He gestured to the papers on the table. "So you see, none of this matters. The investigation by the Chicago D.A. will go forward unless I stop it, and the information I just told you about will be discovered. Calea knows what being named as a co-conspirator will mean to her career. She won't testify against me and tell a jury how she got the evidence she gave you. And without her testimony none of the evidence will be admitted."

After studying him for a moment, McCoy nodded slowly. "You're right. She does know her career is at risk. And she's already agreed to testify anyway."

Tyler's smug expression turned into a genuine smile. "You're forgetting one thing. I was married to her for fourteen years. I know her inside and out. She's wanted to be an attorney since she was twelve years old and is not going to risk losing her license."

"If you know her as well as you say, then you also know to what lengths she'll go for a client. That her client is her friend only means she's willing to do that much more. You and your accomplices picked the wrong man to frame for Carpelli's murder."

Leaning forward, Tyler's voice took on a hard edge. "It doesn't matter what she tells you now. She won't go through with it. I made her into what she is today and there is no way she's going to defy me."

McCoy leaned forward as well, letting more than a little of his anger surface. "You're not married to her anymore, Tyler. You can't beat her into submission. She's no longer afraid of you so your intimidation tactics aren't going to save you. And Calea isn't the only one who's turning on you. Your former partners are not very happy about the files found in your home. Your obsession with insurance is going to cost you. They will testify about your involvement with Harrison, and we're a step away from linking you with the man who planted the gun that killed Carpelli. Any way you look at it, you're going to pay for at least some of your crimes." He reached across the table and gathered the papers back into the folder. "I'm only sorry I can't make you pay for all of them."

Tyler smacked his hand down on the folder abruptly, briefly preventing McCoy from taking it. "If I go down, so does she," he promised before removing his hand.

Gritting his teeth, McCoy gave the folder to Carmichael, then sat back and put a lid on his temper.

"We have nothing more to say," Parker said quickly. He got up and waited while Tyler glared at McCoy. After a few seconds, Tyler rose and followed his attorney out of the room.

Carmichael and McCoy followed a moment later. After signing out, they were allowed through the security gate and headed for the parking lot.

McCoy had been silent, allowing his anger to subside. "It was all I could do not to pop Tyler a good one," he finally admitted.

"If you had, no one would've heard about it from me," Carmichael assured him.

"We have to link Tyler to Latham. If we do, we can get all the evidence admitted without Calea having to testify. And maybe Compton can persuade the D.A. in his office not to investigate her since the other three aren't going to back up Tyler."

"I think this is Briscoe and Green's weekend off, but when we get back to the office I'll call Ed and see if he's heard anything more from the police in Chicago," Carmichael offered.

"Let's hope someone there tracks down our two mystery men this weekend. If not, come Monday, Calea will most likely be on her way to Chicago."