Product Description New York Times bestselling author Christine McGuire, a real-life criminal prosecutor, packs her legal thrillers with authentic details and "human characters who...leap right off the pages" (The Pilot, Southern Pines, NC). Now, in Until The Bough Breaks, McGuire's tenacious heroine, Assistant D.A. Kathryn Mackay, confronts a scorching controversy in the courtroom -- and a shattering revelation in her private life. The Fourth of July is winding down, but in Santa Rita County the fireworks have just begun. A house in the well-to-do Mission Heights district has gone up in flames. Inside are the charred remains of Lawrence Lancaster, with a .22 caliber slug in his brain -- courtesy of his wife. Kathryn's convinced it's premeditated murder, but she's pitted against a high-profile, media-savvy attorney who's vowing to turn the trial into a referendum on Battered Women's Syndrome. Kathryn's greatest challenge will be focusing on the defendant's love life...and not on her own. Her colleague and lover, David Granz, has also been accused of a crime -- the brutal rape of a former girlfriend -- and the evidence seems airtight. With her personal and professional worlds on a collision course, Kathryn races to uncover the truth -- and becomes the next target in a spiral of rage, recrimination, and explosive violence. About the Author Christine McGuire prosecutes murder cases in a California district attorney's office. She has taught at the academy of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Quantico, Virginia. Her first book, Perfect Victim, a nonfiction account of a sexual enslavement case, was a #1 New York Times bestseller. She is also the author of the acclaimed Kathryn Mackay series. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter OneThe Fourth of July crowd lining Village Road was noisy, boisterous, and happy. The Stars and Stripes flew proudly on bicycles, baby carriages, street signs, and building facades. Some stood, some sat on folding chairs or the grass strip separating the sidewalk walk from the pavement, while the more adventurous perched on the roofs of their cars or tailgates of pickup trucks whose rear ends faced the street. Small children were hoisted onto their dads' shoulders, legs wrapped tightly around their necks. Older kids crouched in front of the adults, waving their little flags."Here they come," Emma shouted excitedly to no one in particular. "Here they come." A true patriot at age nine, she waved the Stars and Stripes for emphasis.Faintly audible John Philip Sousa marching music preceded the first float as it crested the small hill near the shopping center. It carried the Laguna del Mar High School Marching Band, which on this occasion was definitely not marching.The ancient blue Dodge truck towing the float was decked out in red, white, and blue balloons and bunting. The all-girl wind section sat in front. Boys clad in identical red, white, and blue T-shirts immediately behind blared away on an array of trumpets, trombones, and tubas, while at the back of the float rode identically dressed students pounding away on drums and cymbals.If it wasn't perfectly performed, the march was at least played loudly and enthusiastically, and the spectators lining the early parade route expressed their appreciation by cheering, stamping their feet, and clapping their hands in time with the march.Not to be outdone, the drum majors and majorettes of the Española Middle School strutted in their maroon-and-yellow uniforms immediately behind the band in more-or-less perfect unison. No one noticed or cared about the occasional dropped baton as the procession approached the railroad underpass.Immediately after the drum corps an antique tractor wheezed and chugged along pulling an equally old rubber-tired wagon stacked with gaily decorated apple crates on which sat pretty high-school girls dressed as Uncle Sam throwing kisses to their appreciative audiences.Two elderly me