ICHELE COHEN POURED herself a cup of coffee and carried it into the family room where the TV was on. She was alone. She set her cup down, picked up the remote, and changed the channel.

“I preferred the other program, actually.”

She screamed.

Robie sat down in the chair opposite her.

“What the hell are you doing in my house? How did you get in my house?” she demanded.

“You should lock your doors, even while you’re home,” said Robie.

“I don’t know who you think you are. But I’m calling the police. You were very rude to me today at the FBI. And I think you were following me earlier. I don’t have to stand for this. It’s harassment, plain and simple.”

She stopped talking when Robie held the item up.

“Know what this is, Michele?”

She stared at the flat square box.

“Should I?”

“I don’t know, should you?”

“I’m not going to sit here and play stupid mind games with you.”

“It’s a DVD. From a security camera.”

“So?”

“It was pointed right at the spot where the bus exploded.”

“If that was the case, why didn’t the police know about it?”

“Because it was from a webcam a guy had set up in his apartment overlooking the street. I found it because I went door-to-door before the cops did. This guy had had some problems with burglars. Wanted to catch them in the act. It was on a rotation program. Clean sweep of the street. And it has a time and date stamp. Would you like me to tell you what it didn’t see?”

She said nothing.

“It didn’t see you, Michele, or your boyfriend, at the spot you said you were.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would we lie about something like that? And the motel clerk backed up our story.”

“I’m not saying you weren’t at the motel. I’m just saying you’re lying about what you saw. In fact, you saw nothing.”

“You’re wrong!”

“You said you saw the bus explode.”

“I did.”

“And you also said you saw the guy’s gun fly off and land under a car?”

“That’s right.”

“That bus explosion would have blown thousands of pieces of debris all over the air. It would’ve been a shitstorm of stuff. And you, all whacked out from seeing a bus explode and lots of people die, you saw one little gun fly through the air, and you were able to follow its path, with all the other stuff going on, until it landed under a car?” He paused. “That is total and complete bullshit.”

She jumped up and raced to the phone on the table next to the doorway into the kitchen. “I want you out of here. Now. Or I will call the police and have you arrested.”

Robie held the DVD up higher. “And we both know that you didn’t see two black people get off that bus, Michele. And the DVD will confirm that. So you lied to the FBI. That will get you at least five years in a federal prison on about three different felonies. No more working in the financial industry for you. And you’ll be early forties when you get out. And prison is not easy on the body or the psyche. You’ll come out looking closer to fifty. Maybe sixty if they’re rough on you in there. And it’s not just the guys who have the bitches inside, Michele. The ladies get lonely too in there. You’ll be easy fresh meat. You’re small and soft. You won’t stand a chance.”

“You’re just trying to scare me.”

“No, I’m trying to enlighten you on just how serious your situation is.”

Robie set the DVD down on the coffee table. “Two people did get off the bus. But they weren’t black.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I saw it on here, Michele. Now why don’t you sit down and we can talk about this and maybe come up with a way out of it for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m a nice guy, that’s why.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Believe what you want to believe. If I believed for one second that you weren’t just a patsy in this whole thing I would’ve already arrested you. But if I can use you to get to the people I really want, then that’s valuable. That’s something you can negotiate with, Michele. Don’t walk away from this deal, because you won’t get another one.”

He inclined his head to the spot she had occupied on the sofa.

Cohen sat, her gaze downcast.

“Drink your coffee,” said Robie. “It’ll help calm your nerves.”

She took a sip and set the cup back down, her hand shaking.

Robie sat back, studied her. “Who told you to lie?”

“I can’t talk to you about this.”

“You’ll either have to talk to me or the FBI. Which do you prefer?”

“I can’t talk to the FBI.”

“Why?”

She exclaimed, “Because they’ll kill him, that’s why.”

“Kill who?”

“My husband.”

“What’s he got to do with this?”

“Gambling debts. He’s way over his head. But someone approached him and told us there was a way out. All debts forgiven if we did this.”

“Lie to the FBI?”

“Yes.”

“Big risk.”

“Prison over death?” she said incredulously.

“What does your husband do?”

“He’s a partner in a law firm. He’s a good man. A pillar in the community. But he has a little problem with betting. And he used some client trust funds to make up a shortfall. He’ll be ruined if it comes out.”

“Who were the people who got you to do this?”

“I never met them. My husband did. He said he was taken to a room, sat in the dark, and given an ultimatum. They told us everything we needed to do.”

“Why were you chosen to do it instead of your husband?”

“I guess I’m cooler under pressure than he is. We didn’t think he would be able to lie to the FBI.”

Robie thought about this. Respectable couple, believable witness. No motivation to tell an untruth. Made sense.

“Who was the guy you were supposed to be having an affair with?”

“They supplied him. We just sat in the motel bedroom staring at the floor. Then we left at the time we’d been given. I didn’t actually see the bus explode. I was told to say it was a black man and black teenager who got off the bus. And then the rest that you heard today.”

“Where is your husband now?”

“Confirming that his gambling debts have been taken care of.”

“You really think it will be that easy?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a liability to these folks, Michele. Do you think they were going to let you and your husband live?”

Her face flushed. “But we don’t know anything.”

“What you just told me disproves that.”

“You think they’ll try to kill us?”

“What time is your husband supposed to be back?”

She looked at her watch and her face turned whiter. “About twenty minutes ago.”

“Call him.”

She grabbed the phone and punched in the number. She waited, the phone pressed to her ear.

“It went right to voice mail.”

“Text him.”

She did. They waited for five minutes and no text came back.

“Call him again.”

She tried twice more, with the same result.

“Where was he going to confirm that the debts were canceled?”

“At a bar over in Bethesda.”

Robie thought quickly. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To the bar in Bethesda. We might be in time to save his life.”