Croft nodded.

It was nearly 2 A.M. when they went north up Route 93. Newman said to Croft, "What did the lieutenant mean, "If he sticks'?"

The police radio was a soft murmur in the background, so low Newman wondered how Croft could hear it.

Croft shrugged in the dark. "People change their minds sometimes.

Decide they made a mistake. An eyewitness is good at the beginning but a lot better at the end." "I didn't make a mistake," Newman said.

Croft was silent. The radio murmured. The dispatcher's voice rhythmic and without affect. The messages indistinguishable to Newman.

Croft glanced over at Newman, then looked back at the road.

Newman was exhausted. He'd been up since six-thirty. The coffee he'd drunk made him jumpy but no less tired. It felt corrosive in his stomach. He leaned his head back against the headrest and took a deep breath. Forty-six, he thought. I'm forty-six years old.

Croft turned off at Route 128. "Mr. Newman," he said, "I'm going to say something that Lieutenant Vincent would cut off my balls for saying."

Newman opened his eyes and rolled his head over and looked at Croft.

"The reason we're wondering if you'll stick is because we're wondering if someone might squeeze you. You got a right to know what you're getting into, and Adolph Karl is a fucking psychopath."

A thrill of fright flickered in Newman's stomach.

"You mean he might try to stop me from testifying."

"Yeah."

"Would he kill me?"

"I think he'd threaten you first. We can give you protection. It ain't all that bad. But it may be awkward for a while."

"How long would I have to have protection?"

"Hard to say," Croft answered. "We don't have to worry about it now.

Nobody knows who you are."

"But at the hearing?"

"Then they'll know. Then we'll cover you. It'll be all right, but I figure you got the right to know how it'll work. And the sooner you know, the longer you'll have to get used to it."