Williams reached for his arm. In the midst of turmoil, the point of contact was comforting. The older man had been as much of a father to Harry as his stepfather, and more of a father than the man who helped to create him. “That’s your call. I know that you’ll know what to say, if you do let her know you’re in on it. But remember, you weren’t the one who followed the phone trail. You didn’t dig up the text records or question the witnesses. You can’t take all the blame.”

Harry sighed. “I’m the one who put her on your radar. Without me, she would never have been discovered.”

“Think about your friend. Think about Mr. Johnson. Would that have been right for him? For his family?”

Harry had lain awake at night thinking about exactly that. “I can’t imagine the Johnsons. I mean, they still think of Amber like a daughter. They’re going to be devastated.”

“One fire at a time, son.”

Harry turned toward the window and wiped his eyes. He couldn’t hear what they were saying because he’d turned off the sound but he could tell by his sister’s expression that she was pleading her innocence. “She needs to shut up. I know we have the evidence, but she just needs to shut up!”

“Then go be a brother: a brother who’s also an agent. Tell her what she can do to make it better.”

Harry turned on his heels. “Nothing! She can’t do a damn thing to make it better. She killed Simon Johnson…” He shook his head. “…and it goes back to Claire. How does every damn thing go back to Claire? Simon’s obsession was what pissed Amber off so much. How could I be right here in San Francisco and hang out with them and not know?”

“Simon never mentioned Mrs. Rawlings?”

“He did, but not a lot. It was one of those things you say in passing. I’d get pissed at Liz about something and mention Ilona. He’d be pissed at Amber and mention Claire. She was his girlfriend in college—freshman year! That was forever ago. I remember thinking that it was weird that he’d gone so long without someone serious in his life. He chalked it up to devoting his energy to his work. That’s why he and Amber were so perfect. They met at Shedis-tics and she followed him to help with SiJo. They were friends before they became an item. I’m not sure Simon even saw her as girlfriend potential… for a while.” Harry shrugged. “I can’t testify to any of that. It’s what he said and she said. That was all before I moved back to California. Once I got here, they were definitely together. Other than a mention here and there of Claire to me, he seemed totally devoted to Amber.”

“So you didn’t know that he’d gone around the country to see her?”

Harry shook his head.

“Ms. Matherly knew.”

“We never talked about it.” Harry’s eyes widened. “What else does Liz know?”

“If you’re asking if we think she knew that your sister allegedly poisoned Mr. Johnson, we don’t. There’s no evidence—at this time—to suggest that. In an interview with the CBI, she mentioned that Mr. Johnson had an obsession with a person from his past and that upset Ms. McCoy. She claimed that his preoccupation was the only source of contention she’d ever witnessed between the two of them.”

Harry’s head shook slightly from side to side, allowing his too-long blonde hair to fall across his eyes. Pushing the unruly curls away, he said, “They all need to shut up.” He turned back to the window, just in time to see the officer exit the room, leaving Amber alone at the metal table.

Harry handed SAC Williams his phone. “Here, the damn thing’s going to explode if I get another message from Liz. Can you hold it for me while I go in there?”

Williams’ lips twitched into a slight smile. “You want me to hold your exploding phone?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, thanks.”

When Harry opened the door, Amber’s head popped upward, and her tear-filled eyes looked directly at him. Instantaneously, her expression morphed to need. “Oh, thank God, Harry. You need to help me. They’re saying things that don’t make sense. They’re saying that I was involved in Simon’s death and that attack on you. Please… please…” she reached out to him “…tell me that you know I wouldn’t do that.”

Walking toward his sister, she stood. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging her shuddering shoulders. He fought his own emotions as her tears dampened the cotton of his shirt. After a moment, he helped her to sit again and sat across from her. “Amber, they read you your Miranda rights, didn’t they?”

“Yes, but why? Why would they even think that I would—”

Harry interrupted, “You need to get a lawyer. Stop talking to them or even to me… I’m an agent—”

“I know what you are! You can help me. Find out who’s saying these vile things. Make this all stop. I loved Simon. I love you! I would never do anything to hurt…” her words faded into tears. Suddenly, her eyes opened wide. “I bet it’s that bitch. Claire Nichols! She’s the one saying these things about me! It’s not enough for her to have her billionaire jailbird and you, but she wouldn’t let Simon go either. She tried to kill Rawlings. I bet she found out that Simon and I were engaged and she tried to…” Her anger turned to sadness. “…no, she didn’t try. She succeeded in killing him.”

“She isn’t telling anyone anything. You sound delusional.”