'I'm sorry. I forgot we were going out.'
Greene could not hide his disappointment. She felt terrible.
'I'm not feeling well,' she said, only half lying. She felt drained and knew that she'd never have the energy to make it through their date. Greene's shoulders sagged. The hand holding the bouquet dropped to his side.
'What's going on, Amanda?'
She lowered her gaze, unable to look Mike in the eye.
'I know I should have called.'
'I thought you forgot about our date.'
'Don't cross-examine me,' Amanda snapped, angry at being caught in a lie. 'We're not in court.'
'No, we're not,' Mike said evenly. 'There are rules in court. People have to follow them. You seem to be playing by your own rules when it comes to the two of us, and I have no idea what they are.'
Amanda looked down at the rug. 'I'm going through some . . . things. I just . . .'
She broke off and walked half way to the window. A river of headlights was flowing across the Freemont Bridge. She fixed on the lights.
'Look, Amanda, I know what you've been through, so I've tried to be understanding. I . . . I like you. I want to help.'
'I know, Mike. I just can't . . . .'
She shook her head, her back still to him. She waited for him to say something, but he didn't speak and she did not hear him move. When she turned, she saw that Mike had laid the flowers on the coffee table.
'If I can help, call me. I'll be there for you.'
Mike left, taking care to close the door quietly. Amanda sat on the couch. She felt terrible. Mike was so nice, and Amanda felt safe with him. She wondered if that wasn't what attracted her to him.
An image of Toby Brooks flashed into her head. If Mike made Amanda think of a teddy bear, Toby made her think of a cat. He made her think of someone else, too. She started to feel the way she had at the office. Fear began to overwhelm her again, and she struggled to hang on. All of a sudden, she was sorry that she had sent Mike away. She needed someone with her. She did not want to be alone.
Chapter Six.
A little after three on Thursday afternoon, Tim Kerrigan met with the detectives who were working a case involving a child pornography ring. Then he brainstormed with another DA about the best way to handle a tricky suppression motion. When the deputy left, Kerrigan checked his watch. It was after five, and Jack Stamm, the Multnomah County district attorney, would be by in forty-five minutes to take him over to the dinner that would kick off the National Association of Trial Lawyers convention.
There were so many other things Tim would rather be doing than attending that dinner. He put his feet up on his desk and closed his eyes. He rubbed his lids and drifted for a moment. His thoughts turned to the crumpled scrap of paper in his wallet, on which he had scrawled Ally Bennett's phone number. Stan Gregaros said Bennett's working name was Jasmine. He said the name to himself, drawing it out. He felt a nervous buzz in his belly and heat below his waist.
Jasmine would not be the first prostitute he'd been with but, somehow, Kerrigan knew that Ally Bennett would be different from the others--different from any woman he'd ever been with. Her breasts would be perfect, her buttocks would be exquisite, and her mouth would perform miracles. 'Tell me what you want,' she would say, and he would tell her what he needed, he would tell her the things that he could never tell Cindy.
Someone knocked on his doorjamb. Tim's eyes opened. Maria Lopez was standing in the doorway, looking like she'd lost her best friend. Kerrigan dropped his feet to the floor. He was suddenly aware of the ringing of a phone and the murmur of conversations outside his office.
'Do you have a moment?'
Tim managed a nod. Maria crossed the room and sat down.
'What's up?' Kerrigan asked the young DA.
'A hiker found Lori Andrews in Washington Park.'
'Ah shit.'
'It's Dupre. He killed her.'
'You know that for a fact?'
Lopez shook her head. 'But I know he did it.' She rubbed her forehead. 'I saw the pictures, Tim. She was naked. She'd been beaten so badly. Then that bastard dumped her like a sack of garbage.' Maria paused. She looked devastated. 'Her little girl will probably go into foster care.'
'Don't beat yourself up like this. We all make mistakes,' Kerrigan said unconvincingly, thinking of his own.
Silvio Barbera, a senior partner in a major Wall Street law firm and the current president of the National Association of Trial Lawyers, looked out over the crowd in the Hilton ballroom from behind the podium that had been set up for the keynote speaker.
'I have been a football fan my whole life,' he confessed. 'I remember Doug Flutie throwing the Hail Mary pass that beat Miami and Franco Harris's Immaculate Reception, but my greatest football moment came eight years ago when Michigan played Oregon in the Rose Bowl. Remember the game? Both teams were unbeaten, and the national championship was on the line. When the fourth quarter started, Michigan led by twenty points and the announcers had written off the Ducks. That's when one of the greatest comebacks in college football history started.
