Dead Even

Chapter 18

AT SIX-THIRTY IN THE MORNING ON THE DAY OF THE trial, Sara and Jared sat at their kitchen table, staring silently at each other. Although Sara had made herself her favorite breakfast, a giant bowl of Apple Jacks and a tall glass of orange juice, she’d barely touched it. No matter how well prepared she was for this day, no matter how much thought she’d put into it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to be done. As Conrad had warned her the night before, there was nothing like the anxiety of opening day. No amount of experience could appease it; no amount of preparation could allay it.

Sitting across the table from his wife, Jared was consumed by the same fears. Ten minutes ago, he had toasted two slices of rye toast without the crust. He still hadn’t taken more than a bite. Since the day he’d arrived at Wayne & Portnoy, he’d been involved in at least twenty different trials. He’d personally been first chair on seven of them. And while he had already expertly faced dozens of doubting jurors, opening day was always the same: no appetite, upset stomach, striking pain in the base of his neck. That was the way every trial started, and that was what he felt as he stared across at his wife.

After shoving aside her cereal and orange juice, Sara pulled out a pen and scribbled a quick note on the corner of Jared’s newspaper: “Good luck, my love. See you in court.” Then, as silently as she could, she gave him a tender kiss on his forehead. A minute later, she was gone.

As Jared stood up to throw out his toast, the phone rang. “Hello,” he said.

“She looks good today,” Rafferty said. “Sharp coat, nice shoes, no jewelry. Clearly, she’s dressed to impress.”

“Stay the hell away from her,” Jared warned.

“Don’t make threats – they piss me off.”

“Where are you?” Jared asked.

“In my car. Right outside your front door. I’m here to give you a ride to the courthouse.”

“I don’t need-”

“It’s not an offer, Jared. Come downstairs. Now.”

Jared quickly put on his overcoat and grabbed his briefcase. He’d expected Rafferty to offer a final bit of advice before the trial, but he hadn’t thought it’d be this early.

Outside, the morning was typical for a New York winter: bitter cold, no sun, gray skies. When Jared opened the door to Rafferty’s car, he saw both Kozlow and Rafferty waiting.

“Big day, boss,” Kozlow said. “How do I look?”

“It’ll do,” Jared said, eyeing the suit they’d bought for the grand jury. “Make sure to wear the glasses.”

“I got them right here,” Kozlow said, patting his breast pocket. “Safe and sound.”

As Jared took a seat in the back of the car, he could feel Rafferty staring coldly at him. Attempting to ignore the nausea that was dancing in his stomach, Jared asked, “Everything okay?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I hit pay dirt last night. I saw her questions for Doniger and Officer McCabe, I read her opening statement, and I got a look at her evidence list. We’re in good shape – we’re now prepared for everything she’s bringing up.”

“What about jury selection?”

“Do I look like a complete novice to you? I know exactly who I’m after: female, white, college educated – hopefully liberal. They take it easy on defendants. And they hate female attorneys.”

“What about Sara? Who’s she after?”

“Don’t worry about Sara. She’s never even done her own jury selection. I’m sure Conrad will have coached her, but she’ll still be up there alone.”

“So you think you’ve got it under control?” Kozlow asked. “You think the odds are you’ll pull out a victory?”

“There are no odds in criminal-defense work,” Jared said. “Either the jury buys your bullshit, or they see what you’re selling and send you on your way.”

“Well then, they better buy your bullshit,” Rafferty warned.

“Listen, I don’t need your-”

“No, you listen,” Rafferty shot back. “I don’t want to hear that you can’t give us odds. And I don’t want to hear that you’re not sure of the outcome. The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth is that you’re going to win this waste-of-my-time case. In fact, that’s what I want you to do. In your own words, I want you to tell me, ‘Rafferty, we’re going to win this case.’”

Jared was silent.

“Say it. Repeat after me,” Rafferty said. “‘Rafferty, we’re going to win this case. Without a doubt, I’m going to win this case for you.’”

Still, Jared didn’t say a word.

“What’re you, deaf?” Kozlow asked, digging his thumb into the cut on Jared’s chin. “Say the damn sentence.”

Glaring at Rafferty, Jared growled, “Rafferty, we’re going to win this case. Without a doubt, I’m going to win this case for you.”

“That’s great news, Mr. Lynch,” Rafferty said. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Standing outside the courtroom, Sara nervously searched the hallway for Conrad. Although it was still twenty minutes before they were supposed to meet, she’d long become accustomed to Conrad being early. And if he wasn’t early, in Sara’s mind, he was late. Too anxious to wait around, she went to the women’s rest room and ran the water until it was warm. She stuck her hands under the faucet, leaving them there for almost a minute. It was a trick Pop had taught her for her first law firm interview: the only known cure for sweaty hands.

As Sara held her hands under the water, she thought she heard a noise from one of the four stalls on the opposite wall. Shutting off the water, she looked in the mirror. No one was behind her. She bent over and took a quick glance under the stalls. No one in sight. Not again, she thought. Cautiously, Sara approached the first stall. She held her breath as she pushed open the door. Empty. Slowly, she pushed open the second door. Empty. As she moved to the third door, her heart was pounding. She carefully nudged it open. Again, empty. Finally, she reached the last door. She knew this was it. Over her shoulder, she thought she saw something behind her. Spinning around, she realized it was nothing. Just her imagination. Once again, she faced the door. With a quick thrust of her leg, she kicked it wide open. Empty. Shaking her head, Sara tried her best to pull it together. Don’t let him do this to you, she told herself. But no matter how hard she tried to ignore him, she couldn’t help but notice that her hands were once again covered in sweat.

After another regime of warm water on her hands, Sara returned to the waiting area outside the courtroom. Conrad still wasn’t there. Finally, at ten to nine, she saw him turn the corner of the hallway. With his usual confident, determined pace, he brusquely marched toward the courtroom. “Ready?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Am I supposed to feel like I’m about to lose consciousness?”

“It’s your first case – and it’s a hell of a case at that. It’s okay to be jittery.”

“Jittery’s one thing. Vomitous is another.”

“They’re both normal. Now put it out of your head and move on,” Conrad said. “Believe me, the moment the judge bangs his gavel, you’ll get in your zone. Every great litigator has the same reaction. A trial makes you more decisive than usual; the emotion hits later.”

“I hope you’re right,” Sara said as she opened the door and stepped into the courtroom. “Because if you’re not, you’re going to be carrying me back to the office.” As she walked down the middle aisle, toward the front of the room, Sara looked around. Doniger wasn’t there. Neither was Officer McCabe. The only people in the courtroom were the court clerk, the stenographer, and two court officers.

Approaching the prosecutor’s table on the left-hand side of the room, Sara put down her briefcase and turned toward Conrad. “You don’t think…” She stopped when she saw Jared and Kozlow enter the courtroom.

Shooting a cold stare at his wife, Jared made his way to the defense table and set down his briefcase. He then turned his back to Sara and Conrad.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Kozlow asked.

“Shut up,” Jared said, opening up his briefcase.

For the next ten minutes, both parties sat silently at their respective tables, waiting for Judge Bogdanos to arrive. Periodically, Sara looked over her shoulder, scanning the crowd. “This is bad,” she said to Conrad. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Before Conrad could reply, the clerk of the court announced, “All rise! The Honorable Samuel T. Bogdanos presiding.”

Rubbing his well-trimmed beard, Bogdanos took the bench and motioned for everyone to return to their seats. After checking to see that both parties were present, he asked if there were any final motions or anything else to discuss before jury selection took place.

“No,” Sara said.

“No, Your Honor,” Jared said.

“Then let’s begin. Mitchell, please bring in the jurors.”

The taller of the two court officers walked to the back of the room and stepped out to the hallway. He returned with twenty prospective jurors. As the prospects filed into the jury box, Guff came running into the room with a panicked expression on his face. He rushed to the front row of the spectator section and got Sara’s attention. “I need to speak to you,” he said.

“Why?” she said. “I thought you were going to-”

“Forget about that,” Guff said, his voice deathly serious. “We’ve got problems.”

Seeing that the jurors still weren’t seated, Sara got out of her seat and approached her assistant. “This better be good. We’re trying to make an impression on-”

“Claire Doniger is dead,” Guff interrupted.

“What?” Sara asked, her mouth agape. “That can’t be.”

“I’m telling you, she’s dead. They found her body early this morning. She’s a real mess – throat slashed, knife jammed in her skull – she was completely mutilated.”

“Ms. Tate, may I remind you that we have a jury to select?” Bogdanos said, losing his patience.

Sara turned around and saw that Conrad, Jared, Kozlow, the judge, the court staff, and all the jurors were staring at her. “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” she asked.

“No, Ms. Tate, you may not approach the bench. I already asked if there were-”

“We have an emergency,” Sara said.

Scrutinizing Sara with a penetrating gaze, Bogdanos said, “Approach.”

Jared and Conrad followed Sara to the bench.

Sara leaned in toward the judge. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Honor, but my assistant just told me that one of our key witnesses was found dead this morning.”

“What?” Jared blurted.

“Who is it?” Conrad asked. “Harrison?”

“Don’t say another word,” Bogdanos warned. He looked over at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to do this to you, but we need a few more minutes before we begin. So we’re going to ask that you continue to wait in the hallway until we’re ready. Mitchell, if you don’t mind…”

When the court officer was finished escorting the jurors out of the courtroom, Jared asked, “Who is it? What happened?”

“It’s Claire Doniger,” Sara said. “They found her murdered early this morning.”

“What?” Kozlow asked, sounding shocked.

“Don’t give us that innocent nonsense,” Conrad warned Kozlow.

“Don’t you dare make an accusation,” Jared said, pointing a finger at Conrad.

“Enough,” Bogdanos said. “Ms. Tate, what would you like me to do?”

Sara looked at Conrad.

“We’d like to ask for a continuance until we can get some more information,” Conrad said. “Although we know the trial will have to go forward, we’ll require at least a day or two to reorganize our case. Claire Doniger was a vital witness for us.”

“Your Honor, there’s no reason for a continuance,” Jared jumped in. “This death may be a surprise, but her testimony was duplicative. I ask that the motion be-”

“A witness just died, Mr. Lynch,” Bogdanos warned. “Even you should acknowledge that. Motion granted. We’ll continue Monday morning.”

“What’d he say?” Kozlow asked as Jared hung up the pay phone on the first floor of 100 Centre Street.

“I’ve never heard Rafferty like that. He was devastated. His voice was shaking. He kept asking me questions, but it was like he was lost.” Jared picked up his briefcase and headed for the front door of the courthouse. “I have to be honest, though, I thought you guys-”

“Jesus, man, are you nuts? This isn’t some crusty old neighbor – this is Claire we’re talking about. Rafferty was crazy for her. If I even looked in her direction, he’d smack me in the back of the head.”

“Maybe they had a falling-out or something.”

“Not a chance. Man, did they really find her with a knife in her skull?”

“It sounds like she was really brutalized. Do you have any idea who might’ve done it?”

“Just one,” Kozlow said. “And if it’s him, I pity the poor bastard. Rafferty’s going to rip him apart.”

As he walked up the three flights of stairs to Elliott’s apartment, Conrad tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t think Elliott was home, but he wasn’t taking any chances. That’s why he had insisted on coming alone. With everything that had happened, it was the only way to make sure nothing got out. Secrecy guaranteed privacy. And once Conrad had privacy, the rest of his role was easy: Get inside and wait until Elliott shows up. Catching him unprepared would put him on the defensive. Then, as soon as he walked in, explain the situation – the fingerprints on the knife that killed Claire were traced back to Elliott, and everyone now knew he murdered her.

Of course, Elliott would deny it, but that wasn’t the point. All that really mattered was that Elliott heard Sara’s deal: If Elliott gave them a statement on Kozlow and Rafferty, they’d reduce Claire’s murder to manslaughter. And if Conrad could get that, they were halfway home.

Reaching Elliott’s front door, Conrad put his finger over the peephole and tapped lightly on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the six skeleton keys that a colleague in Crime Scene had given him. Although most of the keys didn’t work on new, more advanced locks, they still had a high success rate on old locks in run-down buildings. Like Elliott’s. One by one, Conrad tried each key. The first three didn’t work. But on his fourth try, Conrad heard the quiet click of access. Smiling to himself, he turned the knob and opened the door. He couldn’t wait to surprise Elliott. He couldn’t wait to pin him in a corner. And he couldn’t wait to watch him squirm.

The only problem was, Elliott was home the entire time. He’d known Conrad was coming since late the previous night. And as he pulled back the hammer on his gun, he was fully prepared to deal with him. Stepping inside Elliott’s apartment, Conrad didn’t even see the first shot coming.

When the elevator doors opened, Jared and Kozlow stepped out and headed for Jared’s office. “Are we done for the day?” Kozlow asked. “I’m getting tired of wearing this suit.”

“Then take it off. I could care less.”

As Jared approached Kathleen’s desk, Kathleen said, “You better call Rafferty – he’s been calling nonstop for the past…” Kathleen’s phone rang. “There he is again.”

“Put him through,” Jared said as he entered his office. Picking up the phone, he said, “Rafferty, are you-”

“Where the hell have you been?” Rafferty asked, his voice racing. “I need to know what’s happening… what’s going on with the investigation… where they took her so I can-”

“Calm down a second.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Rafferty shouted. “This is my life! Do you understand? It’s my life! Whoever did this, I want you to find that son of a bitch and tell him he’s dead!”

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened, but I need you to relax and control your temper. If they found her early this morning, we’ll have some information by the afternoon. Until then, you should just-”

“Are you going to be able to get that information?”

“I assume so. Sara should have access to-”

“That’s all I needed to hear. I’m coming down there.” With a slam, Rafferty was gone.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sara checked to see if anyone was following her into 80 Centre Street. Seeing no one who looked particularly suspicious, she entered the building. “Hey, Sara,” Darnell said the moment she stepped inside the elevator. “How’s the trial?”

“A mess,” she answered. “One of our witnesses was just found dead.”

“Mob case?” Darnell asked.

“I wish,” Sara said. “That’d be easier.”

When the elevator reached the seventh floor, four people got off. Sara wasn’t one of them.

“Your stop, Kojak. What’cha waiting for?”

“Damn, I forgot something in the courthouse,” Sara said. “I have to get back over there.” When the elevator doors closed, she was alone with Darnell. “Can you take me to the basement without stopping on the other floors? I don’t want anyone to see where I’m going.”

“Pretty sneaky, sis,” Darnell said as he pulled down on the elevator switch. “Bottom floor, coming up.”

When she reached the basement, Sara walked straight down the main hallway until she reached a door marked INTERROGATION ROOM. Passing it, she opened the next door on her right and quietly stepped in and took a seat. On the viewing side of a large two-way mirror, Sara watched as Officer McCabe stared down at his prisoner. All Sara could see was McCabe’s back, but his body language revealed the rest: Things were not going smoothly.

His shoulders were tense and his fists were tightened. Clearly annoyed, McCabe pulled a rusty chair from under the interrogation table and took a seat. And at that moment, Sara got a good look at McCabe’s prisoner.

“Don’t tell me to be patient,” Claire Doniger told McCabe, raising her voice. “I’ve been here since six this morning. You won’t let me make a phone call, I’m not allowed to see anyone – you’d think I was the one under arrest.”

“For the tenth time, Mrs. Doniger, the trial doesn’t start until jury selection is done,” McCabe explained.

“When that happens, you’ll go across the street to testify. Until then, you’re here for your own safety.”

Sara leaned back in her chair. It was all going perfectly.

“No, I understand,” Jared said into the phone. There was a long pause. “If that’s what it says, we’ll deal with it. And if I see him, I’ll let him know. Yeah, I will. I promise.”

“Well?” Rafferty asked before Jared could even hang up the phone. “What’d they say?”

“The good news is they lifted dozens of prints from the knife in Claire’s body,” Jared said to Rafferty. “The bad news is all the prints are yours.”

“Oh, man,” Kozlow said, laughing.

“They’re wrong,” Rafferty said definitively. “It’s not possible. They don’t even have my fingerprints.”

“They do now – they got them from your office,” Jared explained. “Sara has you down as her top suspect, so she sent Crime Scene over to Echo. They pulled perfect fingerprints from your coffee mug, from your desk, even from your doorknobs.” Seeing the instant change in Rafferty’s complexion, Jared asked, “Are you okay?”

“It’s not possible,” Rafferty stammered. “I swear to God, it wasn’t me.”

“I believe you,” Jared said. “But as an attorney, I have to warn you that-”

“I haven’t even seen her for a week,” Rafferty insisted.

“Then is there anyone else who might’ve had access to your fingerprints?” Jared asked. “Anyone who has something to gain if you take the fall?”

“You don’t think…” Kozlow began.

“That scheming little toad,” Rafferty growled. “If Elliott-” Cutting himself off, he turned to Jared. “Is there a warrant out for my arrest yet?”

“Not that I know of. But there will be by the end of the day.”

“Good,” Rafferty said. “Let them come for me then.” Getting out of his seat, he stormed out of the room with Kozlow right behind him.

“Who’s Elliott?” Jared called out as they left. Neither of them answered.

When Rafferty and Kozlow were gone, Kathleen came into the office. “So far, so good?” she asked Jared.

“I don’t know,” Jared said. “Ask me in an hour.”

The first bullet hit him in the chest. The second one ripped through his stomach. But the first thing Conrad noticed was the taste of blood in his mouth. It came up almost immediately and reminded him of the bitter taste of black licorice. That’s when the real pain set in. It wasn’t like the pain when he broke his arm playing rugby. That was confined and sharp in focus. This cut to his core. As his body went numb, he felt less – but somehow, it hurt more. His vision started to blur, but he could still see his attacker across the room.

Elliott was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the event as if it were dinner theater. He was waiting for Conrad to fall, but Conrad wasn’t giving in. “You better have more than that,” he shouted at Elliott, barely able to hear his own voice.

Two more shots rang out. One hit Conrad’s arm, the other his chest. His body was in shock now. But even as his thick legs started to buckle, Conrad staggered forward, lumbering toward Elliott with his arms extended. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t.

Elliott fired another shot. It hit Conrad in the shoulder and pushed him backwards. For a second. Then he continued his march toward the table. He knew he was dying, but he was so close.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Elliott shouted. “It’s over.”

Not yet, Conrad thought. Not until he-

A final shot exploded, catching Conrad in the throat. That was it. That was all he had. Grasping his neck, he felt himself losing consciousness. Everything turned white. He hit the floor with a thundering crash. His last thoughts were of his first wife and the day they met.

Still pointing his gun at Conrad, Elliott didn’t move. Slowly, he circled around to the side of Conrad’s body. Refusing to lower his gun, he used his foot to turn him over. Elliott wasn’t taking any chances. With a quick shove, he got his answer. It was over. Conrad was gone.

When she returned to 80 Centre Street, Sara headed straight to her office, where Guff was waiting impatiently. “So?” Guff asked as Sara shut the door. “How’d it go with Rafferty?”

Double-checking to see that her blinds were closed, she answered, “I had to keep it short because I was on the pay phone across the street, but Jared said he went nuts. He and Kozlow tore out of the office before Jared could even pass along our offer.”

“I still can’t believe you told him,” Guff said.

“How can you say that? He has the exact same incentive to catch Rafferty and Kozlow.”

“And what about Victor?”

“Can you please stop? It’s all working out. Jared hasn’t said a word.”

“So they definitely believe Claire is dead?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Sara said proudly. “They pulled her out at six o’clock this morning, locked her in a room, sent Crime Scene to her house, and sent half a dozen people to Echo Enterprises to do fingerprint work. We even started a few office rumors. Except for an actual body, we have all the makings of a gruesome murder.”

“You’re not holding back, are you?”

“After what those bastards put us through? Not for a second,” Sara said. “Why? You getting worried?”

“Just about the repercussions. Was Monaghan mad when you told him?”

Sara was silent.

“You did tell him, didn’t you?”

Again, Sara didn’t respond.

“Oh, man,” Guff said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell him. When he finds out, we’re going to get reamed. Do you know how many resources we’re wasting to pull this off? Not to mention all the potential ethics violations.”

“I know,” Sara said. “I just didn’t want to risk a leak.”

“You told Jared, didn’t you?”

“You know that’s different. It was okay to tell him, and it was okay to tell the ambulance drivers who picked up the imaginary body and a few of McCabe’s cop friends, but that’s where I want to draw the line. I figured the fewer people who know, the better.”

“Are you reading my lips here?” Guff asked. Slowly, he whispered the words, “He’s our boss!”

“And if he wants to ream someone, he can ream me,” Sara said. “Otherwise, we’re doing this the way we designed. It’s a perfect prisoners’ dilemma: If Rafferty and Elliott both stay quiet, they’re safe, but if one leaks, the other knows he’s going down. In a few hours, self-preservation’s going to make one of them snap. All we have to do is wait for the fireworks.”

“You really think it’s going to be that easy?”

“Nothing’s easy,” Sara said. “But as long as we’re the only ones who know the truth, it’ll all work out.”

After dragging the body into the living room, Elliott went back to the kitchen and picked up the phone. He dialed Rafferty’s number and waited. Eventually, he heard Rafferty answer, “Hello?”

“How you doing?” Elliott asked. “Having a rough day?”

“You killed her, didn’t you?” Rafferty asked. “I’m going to rip your head off, you gloating little-”

“Now, now, now, don’t overact,” Elliott interrupted. “Why don’t you come down here and we can have a little talk.”

“If you want to talk, I want you up here.”

“Not a chance. We do it here, or not at all. Take some time and think about it – you’ll be happy you came. I have something I think you’ll want to see.”

“What do you-”

Elliott hung up the phone. Turning back to the table, he opened a small box of bullets and reloaded his gun. To his left was a set of plastic hands. At the base of the hands, two words were written in black ink: OSCAR RAFFERTY. This was it, he thought. All he had to do was wait.

“Why hasn’t he called?” Guff asked, leaning his chin on Sara’s desk and staring at the phone.

“It’s only been two hours,” Sara said. “Give him time.”

“Maybe he’s in trouble.”

“He’s fine. I’m sure he’s just trying to make it realistic. You know how Conrad is: Can’t rush perfection.”

“How do you think McCabe is doing with Doniger?”

“When I saw him, she was driving him nuts.”

“Then maybe we should go down there,” Guff suggested. “Just to give her an update.”

“If it’ll make you happy, let’s go,” Sara said, following Guff to the door.

A few minutes later, Sara and Guff reached the basement. Hoping to get a look at how things were going, they entered the viewing room first. But as they stared out through the two-way mirror, all they saw was an empty room.

Before they could even react, Officer McCabe darted into the viewing room, his forehead dripping sweat. “Please tell me she’s with you!” he said.

“What’re you talking about?” Guff asked.

“Where the hell is Doniger?” Sara demanded.

“I don’t know,” McCabe said. “She asked me to get her some coffee, and when I got back, she was gone!”

“Oh, my God!” Guff shouted.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Sara asked, panic filling her voice. “She can’t be gone.”

“How long ago did this happen?” Guff asked.

“Not even ten minutes ago,” McCabe said. “I was checking the bathroom, but when I heard the noise coming from here, I ran back and found you.”

“Guff, watch the elevators,” Sara instructed. “And keep an eye on the stairs. The two of us’ll check every room down here. We’re in a basement – it’s not like she can crawl out a window.”

Sara darted full speed down the hallway, entering every room she came to. The basement was mostly used as a storage area, so room after room was filled with nothing but industrial-sized file cabinets. How could she get out? Sara asked herself. Did she know it was a setup? Did someone tell her? Did McCabe let her out on purpose? At that moment, Sara stopped. What if Victor had something on McCabe? And what if Jared told Victor… No. No, he’d never do that. Get it out of your head. Within ten minutes, every room had been searched. Claire Doniger was nowhere in sight.

“I can’t believe this,” Sara said, trying to catch her breath. Turning to McCabe, she asked, “How could you leave her alone? Were you even thinking?”

“Listen, honey, I did my best to watch her. It’s not my fault.”

“Oh, really? Then whose fault is it? It must be mine, because I’m the moron who thought you were up to the job of baby-sitting!”

“Calm down,” Guff said. He pulled Sara away from McCabe. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t,” Sara insisted. “The moment Rafferty and Elliott find out she’s alive, we’re dead.”