“Pancakes or French toast?” Dallas asked as they shuffled into the kitchen and rubbed sleep from their eyes.

“Please don’t tell me you can cook. I’m not sure I can handle any more perfection.”

“I can’t,” he admitted. “I just figured I could wing it once I got in here. What makes the toast French exactly?”

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at the stool in front of the kitchen island. “I’ll teach you how to make pancakes, then you can teach me something.”

“Didn’t I teach you a few things last night?” Dallas teased coyly. “It felt like there were a few surprises in there for you.”

“Pleasant surprises,” she agreed. “But I want to know something different. Teach me some self-defense moves. I’ll show you the basics of breakfast, you show me how to kick someone’s ass.”

“You’re worried?” Dallas asked, concern flooding him. “I’m going to keep you safe, and I’ll make sure whoever Emmitt replaces me with is highly trained to do the same.”

“I know that,” she waved off his argument. “I still would like to know a few moves. Unless you don’t think I’m capable.”

“Oh please,” he laughed, “you’re the perfect example of mama bear strength. You know how they say a mom can lift a car off her child? They’re talking about a mom like you.”

“So we have a deal then?” Harlan asked, shooting her hand out for a shake that would seal the agreement.

“I’ll show you a few moves if you promise not to rely on them instead of calling for help. Don’t go grabbing a cape and tights and think you’re going to save the world just because I teach you how to break a windpipe.”

She nodded, and he wearily shook her hand. “You take out the case files and start reading to me while I crack the eggs. If you think Tim is withholding something that could help his case, we need to find out why. I can’t imagine anyone would sit in jail if they had evidence that could free them, but I trust your gut.”

“You jump in with questions if you have any.” Dallas thumbed through the boxes for a few minutes like he was following a long rope, trying to find its origins. “Here’s Larry’s testimony. I was in the courtroom that day, but my blood was boiling so much I could hardly hear. I won’t be surprised if some of this is news to me.”

“Give me the highlights,” Harlan instructed as she grabbed an apron and a whisk.

“Larry states that on that night Angus didn’t come home from the restaurant. Tim murdered him. He robbed the restaurant and it went bad, and Tim shot him. When asked how he knew this, Larry said a couple days after that Angus’s murder hit the news. While sitting in a breakfast place, Tim started to explain how he killed Angus. Apparently Tim informed Larry where the body was buried and asked for help burning his own clothes.”

“It’s just so bizarre that Tim didn’t have a way to prove he had nothing to do with this. Justice is supposed to keep these things from happening.”

“There is absolutely no forensic evidence linking Tim to Angus. His car was gone over thoroughly by investigators. No one could testify that Tim owned a gun. I certainly never saw him with one.”

“And he was home?” Harlan asked as she sprinkled out some cinnamon. “No activity on his credit cards or his cell phone or anything?”

“His cell had been disconnected for nonpayment. He was having some financial trouble, but he had it under control. With it being off, it couldn’t be used to confirm he, or at least his phone, was at home.”

“He couldn’t find one person to say they saw him? A neighbor who could say his car was in the driveway?”

“It was because the body went undiscovered for so long. Getting people to recall a normal day in any kind of detail is difficult. Tim had an unusual schedule, working odd jobs at different hours. He couldn’t be nailed down on a regular day. Angus was seen by his customers at the restaurant when it closed at eight that night. They always closed early on Sundays. But he never arrived home.”

“This guy you talked to at the restaurant, he thinks this could be some kind of extortion thing?”

“It’s called a protection ring.”

“Like the mob?” Harlan asked, skeptically. “Are we really thinking this could be some old-school hit?”

“I don’t,” Dallas said. “The landscape of organized crime is unrecognizable compared to a few decades ago. It’s not a bunch of guys with slicked back hair and gold chains threatening to put cement shoes on people. It’s about technology now, importing counterfeit products and muling drugs. Drugs rule the world right now, and you know Massachusetts is seeing epidemic levels of it. Angus could have been paying to keep the drugs off his corner. To keep the drug dealers or addicts from robbing him.”

“So you have to pay the people who are causing the problem to keep the problem from landing on your doorstep?”

“Basically, but some businesses feel like it’s worth it. If they are robbed the protection money buys them some kind of follow up. People start to understand that your business is not one to cross. It’s flawed obviously, but it’s been around a while. A guy like Angus probably didn’t want to make waves, so he paid. He had a family to think of.”

“Do you think he broke some kind of rule? Didn’t pay or something? Would that be reason enough to kill him?”

“Twenty years ago I’d say yes, but none of these guys are trying to go away for murder. They’re creating empires. Not to mention that it’s harder than ever to get away with something like that. Between forensics and cameras on every corner, they’ve found other ways to get what they want. Other threats and tactics. It would be out of the ordinary to think lack of payment would result in Angus being killed. They get nothing now. They aren’t collecting from the daughter.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Dallas shrugged, paying close attention to the batter Harlan had whipped up. The pan was popping and hissing with the butter she’d dropped in. “Compassion might be a factor. Losing the patriarch of the family might be enough for them to back off. That’s why it doesn’t make sense that they would kill him for nonpayment if they never intended to collect from the family after. From a business standpoint it makes no sense.”

“They were ready to kill the patriarch of my family,” Harlan challenged, her nostrils flaring with sudden anger. “The guys who took my daughters and me seemed like they were lacking that compassion.”

“Actually those are the exact tactics I was talking about. You were leverage, and the kind no one in your family would be able to ignore. The likelihood they had actually killed your father was probably low.”

“We should have just rolled the dice then,” Harlan snapped. “We’d have a bag of money back now, and my girls wouldn’t be scared of bad guys.”

“I’m sorry,” Dallas hurried. “I know it was bad. It was real. I shouldn’t have said that. Only with Angus, I don’t think the theory of some kind of crime organization killing him for money works. It’s a weak theory.”

“What’s a strong theory then?” Harlan asked, her voice filled with impatience and frustration.

“Larry,” Dallas said flatly. “He led the police to the body. He knew details of the case no one else would. Look,” he flipped a file toward Harlan who gave it only a fraction of her attention, “the day he was arrested and decided to tell this story of the murder, he was picked up at a building three doors down from Angus’s restaurant. Someone saw him kicking in a back door.”

“Maybe he was trying to rob Angus?” Harlan guessed, dropping perfect circles of batter into the pan. “You said his parents had cut him off.”

“Could be motive,” Dallas said, scribbling down some notes.

“But why wouldn’t the cops assume Larry was involved in some way? Who has that much information about a murder and doesn’t get added to the list of suspects?” Harlan furrowed her brows.

“Open cases are a drag on the system. Closing a murder is a top priority. Doing it quickly keeps it out of the papers as an unsolved crime. People worry, they press the cops, and it goes up the chain. They’re highly motivated to arrest someone. Tim couldn’t account for his time.”

“Innocent until proven guilty goes out the window huh?” Harlan skillfully flipped the pancakes with some flare that made Dallas laugh.

“It was a perfect storm. His lawyer’s problems left him vulnerable. Right down to jury selection. He didn’t root out the right people. That’s the most important part of a trial. He had basically no defense and a biased jury handpicked by the prosecution.”

“And you’re certain?” Harlan asked, scrutinizing his face. “There isn’t even a shadow of a doubt in your mind about Tim? You said you think he’s hiding something, but not about the murder.”

“I’d swear on my mother’s grave that Tim is innocent. There is no motive for him, even needing money wouldn’t drive him to murder. If it came to it, and Tim was in a life-or-death situation, I’m not even sure he could pull the trigger. Hurting people is his worst nightmare.”

“Where do we go next on this?” Harlan asked, filling his plate with pancakes and sliding the syrup his way.

“I’ve got feelers out to people in the community. I want to know what group might be responsible for the protection ring. It’s not to say they are involved, but maybe Larry was mixed up with them in some way. Working as a bagman or something.”

“Which is?”

“The guy who collects the money and brings it back. It’s pretty low level, but Tim said he always wanted to get in with people like that.”

Dallas’s phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket. “This might be something.” He hopped to his feet and started pacing the room.

“I’ll keep these warm.”