Chapter 19: Who Stood Outside the Tower

The man from Phoenix was sixty and thin.

He sat on the edge of an airport hotel bed with his hands between his knees.

He had not had a drink in nine days, and I could see what it was costing him.

"Ms. Rowe," he said. "I kept the valves in your father's building for eleven years."

"I know. I used to bring you coffee at Christmas."

His eyes filled.

"That night a ticket came down from the chairman's office," he said. "Close the riser on three for an inspection."

"At nine at night?"

"I said that. The young man said the building was nearly empty and the inspector was on a deadline."

He took a folded paper from his shirt pocket and laid it on the quilt.

It was a carbon copy, creased and soft from two years of carrying.

At the bottom was a signature I had seen on every Carrow contract: A. Carrow.

"I closed it," he said. "I went home. An hour later I heard the sirens, and I knew."

"You didn't call anyone."

"I was afraid." He looked up. "I've been afraid for two years. I'll say it. I'll say it to anyone who'll listen."

"Say it to the board on Friday."

"I will. But they know my face, ma'am. Mr. Carrow's people have been at my sister's door."

I looked at Rhys, who stood against the wall with his arms crossed.

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