The sun had already cast its warm golden rays across the bed when Jack finally emerged from her restless slumber. Despite the events of the previous day, Jack had slept halfway through the morning, exhausted from the reckless run to the Bookers' and the rescue inside the burning house. Her eyelids fluttered open and for a moment, everything was alright. Donovan wasn't in jail. Titus wasn't dead. She wasn't hopeless.

It was just another Thursday, but then her memories of the previous day returned with the force of a freight train. Donovan had been arrested and was awaiting trial; if she did not find a way to stop them, the mayor and Max Slate would make sure he was executed for his alleged crimes. I have to stop them.

Jack jerked up out of the bed but was paralyzed by the pain coursing through her back, her arms, her legs, her head. She froze, gripping the edge of the bed with her fingers, and closed her eyes. It took a few long minutes to ease herself from the bed in the room she had shared with Hannah the night before. Hannah was already up and gone, and Jack had the small bedroom to herself. She rose from the bed, her body stiff and her skin aching and dry. Corrie had left her a plain linen dress and Jack slipped it on.

I finally feel as old as my years, she thought as the dress restly snugly on her waist and shoulders, too tight on her more robust frame. Jack tied her shoes and tried to clear her frantic, wandering thoughts. Today, she needed to talk with her sister and Christina. Perhaps Oliver was hiding something, or maybe they had overheard a conversation between him and Max Slate. Maybe they could uncover something--anything--that would give them the chance to vindicate Donovan.

Jack slipped down the hallway, her boots clattering on the hardwood floor, and she eased herself down the spiraling staircase to the first floor of the practice where Dr. Benjamin and Corrie tended to the wounded soldiers sent home to recover. The men on their cots littered the floor and a few smiled up at Jack as she descended. One man even opened his mouth to greet her, but something in her expression stopped him. Jack was grateful for the absence of a mirror as she stepped through the men.

"The doctor, is he here?"

One of the men, a boy scarcely out of adolescence with a mop of sandy hair and a cleft chin, nodded. "He's in the back with Mrs. Benjamin."

"And Christina? I mean, Miss Walker? Is she here?"

The boy gave a longing sigh. "No, ma'am. She hasn't come by yet."

Jack suppressed a grin. Leave it to Christina to have every man in the practice fall in love with her. Jack picked her way through the men and wandered into the back where the surgery rooms and supplies resided.

"Dr. B? Corrie?"

Jack could hear their anxious murmuring, and she knew that they were talking about her. They were probably concerned for her sanity after she ran into a burning building. Jack snorted at the thought, and opened the door to the supply closet that enclosed them.

"There you are," she cried, interrupting Corrie and her husband's earnest conversation. The two parted and looked to Jack with guilty expressions on their face.

"Good morning, Jack," Corrie said, brushing a strand of copper hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling? Are you hungry?"

The girl touched Jack's shoulder, but she brushed it away. She didn't need any more coddling; she needed help in saving Donovan's life. "Oh, I'm fine. Were you talking about Donovan? Do you have a plan?"

Corrie and Dr. Benjamin exchanged a glance, and Jack almost rolled her eyes. Though she was ten years their senior, they still treated her like a child at times. Jack rolled forward onto the balls of her feet; she wished they would stop feeling sorry for her and help her.

"Corrie and I still aren't sure what we can do," the doctor said with an apologetic shrug. "I thought we would all go to the Walkers' home, and I'll meet with the mayor and endeavor to convince him to keep the deed and postpone the...punishment for Donovan's crimes."

"You can say it," Jack said, steeling her expression. "His execution. I know what they want to do with him."

Dr. Benjamin nodded curtly, running a hand through his messy hair. "I thought that you and Corrie could come as well and use the time in which Oliver is occupied to talk to them and see if they can help."

Jack nodded, grateful her niece would be along to calm rising tensions. Jack wanted to strangle her brother-in-law, and given the chance, she would.

"Have you seen him? And tended to his wounds?" Jack asked, wishing she could see Donovan in the jail though she was sure Oliver's lackeys would prohibit her from visiting in case she would pass him a weapon or something.

"I went this morning," the doctor said. "His spirits were good, considering the circumstances. He told me to remind you not to do anything stupid."

Jack released a low, humorless laugh. "He knows me well."

A few minutes later, the doctor had finished tending to the wounded and Jack, Corrie, and Dr. Benjamin set off through town to the mayor's mansion. The sky was bleary and overcast as winter spread its tentacles through eastern Virginia, and Jack shivered, wishing she'd remembered to bring her coat. With the incoming cold weather, most of the town's inhabitants remained indoors, but Jack saw parted curtains and peeps through upstairs windows as they passed.

With Margaret's hasty warning, everyone in the town must have heard about the burnt house and Donovan's subsequent arrest. Did they think he had started the fire? Surely they had more common sense than that. He had been staying with the Bookers, so why would he burn down their house? Jack hoped the town's confusion over the events and fear at Titus's death and the fire would prompt them into action. Perhaps she could use their worry to gain the town's disapproval of Oliver. Surely if the town stood against him, he wouldn't proceed with the execution.

The mayor's house appeared before them and Jack's hands formed into fists. Max Slate may have killed Titus, but Oliver Walker was to blame for Donovan's arrest. Her own brother-in-law was a spineless sycophant, promoting injustice for his own selfish gain. But what had he earned from his collusion with Max Slate? Was it inspired by fear? Jack had to find out.

Dr. Benjamin led the way and used the brass knocker. Mr. Bricker appeared a few moments later.

"I would like to speak with the mayor," Dr. Benjamin said.

The butler bowed his head. "Please, come in. He's with someone right now, but you're welcome to wait here."

They slipped inside the door, and Jack traded a look with Corrie. Who could he possibly be meeting with? The question was answered only moments later when the man who haunted Jack's nightmares exited Oliver's mahogany office. Max Slate was dressed in a black suit from head to toe and his hair was carefully combed. Jack wondered if his fingers should evidence of the fire he started.

His eyebrows rose when he saw the three of them waiting outside Oliver's office, but he recovered quickly with an insidious grin. "Well, good morning, Miss Harrison," he said, nodding to all three. "A beautiful day, isn't it? Not too...hot?"

Jack seethed with rage and she pressed forward, ready to hurt him, kill him if she had to, but Corrie held her back, pulling on her arms as Jack struggled.

"You lying son of a--"

"I think you had better be going," Dr. Benjamin said, stepping in front of Jack and Corrie.

Max raised his eyebrows but sauntered to the door, pausing with his hand on the edge of the doorway. "I apologize for disturbing you. I was just here to give Mayor Walker some exciting news."

With one final leering smile, Max departed and left Jack shaking with rage. "The nerve of that man," Jack murmured.

"Come on, Jack," Corrie said, clamping a hand on Jack's wrist. "Let's talk to my mother and Christina and left Alex to the mayor."

Jack let Corrie lead her up the staircase to Christina's room, but the image of Max Slate emerging from Oliver's office stayed with Jack. Good news? What good news could Max possibly have for Oliver?

"Mother?" Jack called. "Are you home?"

Anita emerged from the door of Christina's bedroom, her hair pulled tightly away from her drawn, pale face and the imperious emerald eyes. "Cornelia, Jacqueline! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We need to talk to you," Jack said, pulling her wrist from Corrie's grasp and pushing past Anita into Christina's bedroom.

The sickly girl leaned against the headboard of her four poster bed, her black hair offset by her pale skin. She sat up when her aunt and sister entered. "Jack, how are you? Mother told me the news."

Jack did not know how to reply--how was she? Devastated, terrified, anxious? "I'm...fine," she stuttered. "We need to talk to both of you."

"Me?" Anita asked. "What do I have to do with this?"

Jack pointed at her sister. "You told me the Slates were very influential people, that Oliver wouldn't want to prosecute them. What made you say that? What...what sort of deal has Oliver made with Max Slate in return for killing Donovan?"

The words overwhelmed Anita and she re-entered Christina's room, sitting on a heavy chest with a sigh. Corrie closed the door to the bedroom behind her to give them some privacy and sat beside her sister on the bed, but Jack couldn't sit down. She needed some sort of weapon to combat the injustice Oliver and Max Slate were perpetuating.

"Father knows Max Slate is responsible, but won't do anything?" Christina said with a furrowed brow. "That explains their clandestine meetings in his office. Sometimes I think Father forgets I'm upstairs, and I've heard them talking. Max's voice is dark, memorable."

"Clandestine meetings?" Jack exclaimed. "What sorts of meetings?"

Anita looked towards the door in discomfort, arms over her chest. "It's no secret that Max Slate and my husband have a...working relationship. He is an influential businessman, and Oliver's the mayor. That doesn't mean that something untoward is happening."

Jack shot daggers with her eyes at her sister. "Titus Fletcher is dead, and the Bookers house is burnt to the ground. Donovan has been arrested. I'd say something very untoward is happening."

Anita paled, and Jack turned to Christina. "Have you overheard any of their conversations?"

"Not really," Christina confessed. "But Father has been increasingly edgy recently, and I saw Max stop him in the street yesterday before he went to the Bookers'."

"Is he...is there any possiblity that Max Slate is bribing Father?" Corrie asked, kneading her lower lip between her teeth. "Father has made some indiscretions in the past, but I never would have thought him capable of permitting such blatant lawlessness."

Anita's lips tightened. "You know Max Slate can be very...persuasive."

Christina's green eyes widened. "Do you think he's threatening Father?"

"Undoubtedly," Jack said with a stout nod. "But I think there's more to it than that."

A moment of silence paused between the women and Jack fastened her eyes on Anita. Surely she would know if Max was bribing her husband, wouldn't she?
"Mother, we don't want to hurt Father's reputation, but we need to know if there's a way to stop this," Corrie said, approaching her mother and placing a plaintive hand on her arm.

Jack was half of a mind to expose Oliver to the entire town, but Corrie had a point; Anita would never cooperate if it meant the downfall of the Walker legacy in Irvington.

"What do you know, Anita?" Jack demanded, standing in front of her sister with her hands on her hips. A thought dawned on her. "Max was here just now and told us that he'd given Oliver good news. Do you have any idea what news that could be?"

By the way Anita's eyes flew to hers, Jack knew she was on the right track. The older woman straightened her back and lifted her chin.

"If I tell you, you can't let this get out," Anita said.

Jack refused to make any promises, but Corrie nodded. "Of course not."

Anita heaved a sigh. "I can't prove that this is connected, but the timing can't be coincidental. Oliver has been selected as a candidate for Deputy Attorney General of the state of Virginia."