“That’s not the point,” he says.
“No, here’s the point.” Allison walks over to the mantel andtakes a photograph of Jessica. “She is the point, Mat. Jessica.”
Mat looks again at the mantel, past the photo of Jessica.Their wedding candle, their unity candle, used to sit here. It is now in a boxin the basement. The pictures of Mat are gone, as well, which surely has notescaped his notice. The mantel is now little more than a shrine to theirdaughter.
“If they start looking at you,” Allison says, “they mightstart looking at Jess, too.”
He turns his head to the side, not facing her butacknowledging her. There is no answer to that comment. If they have nothingelse, they have the love of their daughter in common.
Mat looks at his watch. “You’re going to be late for yourlittle ‘meeting.’ ”
He’s talking about her weekly visit with Larry Evans at thegrocery store. “Larry’s been a help,” Allison says. “He believes in me.”
“He’s really going to write the book?”
Mat is being shut out from her writing career, is the pointof all this. He’s playing the jealous ex-husband.
“He’s a good writer,” she says. “He’s shown me some stuff.And he has sources. It’s been very helpful.”
Mat shakes his head. “Fine.”
“I need someone on my side,” she says. “I need someone I cancount on.”
Mat shoots her a look.
“You can go now, Mat. Thanks for breakfast.” Allison walksinto the kitchen and places a hand, for balance, on the sink, before she runsthe water and splashes it on her face.
I killed Sam. I won’t point at you because it would point atJessica.
Okay.
Allison looks at her watch. Time to meet Larry.
THREE DAYS EARLIER…
Paul Riley sits with Allison in a conference room at Paul’soffice. It’s just the two of them, yet an assistant has brought in pastry andpots of coffee. It has been standard fare at the law firm of Shaker, Riley amp; Flemming. They make an impressive show for clientele. An oak-finishedcourtroom stands to the side of the reception on the main floor, for mocktrials and training for associates, lest anyone doubt that this is a preeminenttrial law firm. And Paul, himself, is very good at what he does.
“I think I know why you want to talk,” Allison says.
Paul smiles. He has an incredible ease about him. She cansee how he comforts people. No matter how much they may want to deny it,defense attorneys have to play some kind of psychiatric role. Allison, in thefew years she worked as a public defender, did not have the same polish.
“I can’t try this case, Allison. I can’t represent you. Iwant you to understand.” Paul places a hand down on the table, a smooth greenmarble. “I don’t suggest-I understand what you’re doing. But I’m an attorney. Ican’t be a part of it.”
He could be a part of it, Allison thinks. He doesn’t want tobe. And that is understandable.
“I want you to think about this, Paul. I can’t do thiswithout you.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself, Allison.” Paulstruggles with this a bit. “Look. I realize there is more than one way to lookat this. But frankly, I look at this as a fraud on the court. And I don’t wantto be a part of it. It’s that simple.”
A fraud on the court. Well, sure, in a general sense. Surely,Paul has represented people who have lied to him. A lot of defenses are lies,themselves, although the difference is that the defense attorney doesn’tactually know it, not for certain.
Yes, that is the difference. In this case, Paul Riley knowsit’s a lie. For certain.
“Any new lawyer I get is going to have the same problem,”she notes.
Paul stares at her, traces of amusement supplying hisanswer.
“Unless I don’t tell him,” Allison concludes.
Paul shrugs. He is not going to give an answer. He can’t adviseher to do something unethical, though the ethics, in this instance, are a bitmuddy.
“Any new lawyer I get,” Allison says, “is going to ask youwhy you quit.”
“Is that what I did?” Paul’s look is something between cockyand happy.
Oh. Okay. Allison chuckles. “Paul?” she says. “You’refired.”
Paul snaps his fingers. “Darn the luck.”
“Then do this for me,” she says. “I’d like you to representmy daughter, Jessica. She, obviously, is a witness. She’s going to needguidance.”
“There could be the issue of a conflict,” he sayscautiously.
“I waive it, Paul. She will, too.”
The waiver of any conflict of interest does not appear tomollify Paul. “Allison, I know things that you don’t want Jessica to know. IfI’m her lawyer, I’m going to be withholding information from my own client.”
“Not relevant information, Paul. You know that. You knowthat.”
“But that doesn’t-”
“Listen, just talk to Jessica. Tell her that you’re keepinginformation from her. If she demands that you tell her things, then she can getanother lawyer. Just talk to her. I’m only talking about her testimony in mytrial. All that matters is that she sticks to what she told the police. I justdon’t want her falling into a perjury trap.”
Paul thinks it over. He shoots a cuff, works on his tie.
“Double your fee,” Allison says. “I’ll pay anything.”
“It’s not that, obviously-”
“Just talk to her, Paul. If the arrangement doesn’t work toyour satisfaction, I won’t say another word.”
Paul sighs, finally nods. “I’ll meet with her,” he agrees.
“Thank you. Thank you, Paul. I’ll tell her to call you.” Shegets up and offers a hand. “I understand your position, by the way. I might dothe same thing, if I were you.”
Paul takes her hand and looks into her eyes. “Allison,promise me one thing,” he asks. “Promise me you will be very careful.”
THREE DAYS EARLIER…
This isn’t going to work out, Sam said, sitting behind hisdesk at the capital, a hand on his forehead, looking into Allison’s eyes.
Mat-Mat’s a friend. You know this is crazy. It always was.
Allison stops her run a half-mile from her house. She can’tshake Sam from her thoughts. When she goes blank during the runs, he visitsher. When she tries to sleep, he comes to her in dreams, leaving her breathlesswith hope before she awakens and crashes even harder.
She ran nine miles today, give or take. She doesn’t timeherself or measure the mileage specifically. She doesn’t want to be caught inthe trap of wanting to run faster or farther. She wants the freedom of justrunning for its own sake, releasing the nervous energy that threatens toconsume her.
She grabs a large water and Sunday paper and sits outside ata small cafe. She reads quickly through a story on the front page aboutFlanagan-Maxx. The Watch has been trickling information about it for around aweek now. House Bill 1551, the controversial Divalpro legislation, whichgarnered plenty of attention and criticism when it was
