'Did Andrew and Harry know each other?'
'No,' Paige answered quickly. She thought for a minute and then said, 'Not that I was aware. I mean, neither had any reason to know about each other, so I had no way of thinking they were acquaintances. Why does it matter?'
'Because everything that went on matters, whether you think so or not. I need to know as much as Andrew's lawyer knows. I need to know every detail that he can provide to Robelon, because Robelon will use them to blow your ass-and mine-out of the courtroom. That's the only way I can protect you. If you had been raped by a stranger who climbed through your window, attacked you, and walked away, then he wouldn't know a thing about you to tell his lawyer.'
She nodded her head in understanding.
'But this man spent three evenings with you, talking to you for hours each time. And you talked to him. You said things to him that I would never expect you to remember-little things, personal things that would have seemed of no import before the rape occurred. Yet I can't possibly reconstruct what they were, and I can't ever know what Andrew has told Peter Robelon. Worst-case scenario, want to play that out?' I asked.
Paige was puzzled. She didn't answer me.
'I'll help you. The night of March sixth, you go out with Andrew. Was Harry waiting back at your apartment that night?'
'No. By then-'
'Because all Mr. Robelon has to do is plant that seed with the jury. All he needs is a motive for you to lie.'
'But I'm not-'
'Listen to me, Paige. All he has to do is convince them that Andrew seduced you, convinced you to spend the night with him at his place. You wake up early in the morning, realize you have to explain why you didn't come home to an angry boyfriend-'
'Harry wasn't my boyfriend by then. I'd ended it weeks earlier. I just couldn't get rid of him. He wouldn't leave me alone,' she said, pleading with me to understand.
'That's all Robelon needs to work with. Harry's pissed off because you spent the night with another man. So you tell Harry it wasn't your choice. He doesn't believe you so you beef up the story a bit. Make it sound like Andrew forced you. He held you against your will and raped you.'
'Whose side are you on, anyway?' she asked me. It was not the first time a victim had been pushed to that question. 'Andrew
'To save her own neck. To get back at someone who hurt her in another way. I don't have time to give you all the reasons.'
Maxine knocked again and stuck her head in. 'The judge is ready.'
'Last chance, Paige.' I was face-to-face with her now, as close as I could get. 'Screw around with me and I'll see that you're indicted for perjury. For filing a false report. Am I missing anything else?'
'No, I promise you, Alex. Harry Strait used to scare me to death, he was so jealous, so demanding. I didn't want his name brought into this. I had no idea that he had any contact with Andrew Tripping. I still don't know how or when they met, or why he's here today.'
'Will you tell me about Harry this weekend? Either come in to my office on Sunday afternoon for a few hours or give me some time on the phone.'
Paige nodded.
I went on. 'I need you to think back about everything you remember, some way we can connect Strait and Tripping. Who is Harry Strait and what do you know about him? Why he scared you and what you mean by 'demanding'?' I was still hoping that my four o'clock interview with Tripping's son would take place, but I wanted to know why Paige was so fearful of Strait.
Reluctantly, Paige Vallis whispered, 'Yes. Yes, I will tell you.'
'And if he's back in the courtroom now, you're just going to have to suck it up and carry on. Trials are public. Judge Moffett hasn't got a basis to exclude him.'
I opened the door, leading the way back inside. There were no spectators in the gallery. Moffett let the witness resume her seat before bringing in the jurors.
The smooth flow of the narrative that I had counted on was hopeless. On top of that, I worried that the jurors would now view Paige Vallis as hysterical and flighty. The tears, the trembling, and the freaked-out reaction to the reserved-looking man who had walked into court would be all three or four of them would need to discount her reliability.
'You may continue, Ms. Cooper.'
'Thank you, Your Honor,' I said, rising once again to stand at the podium. 'I'm going to direct your attention to March sixth. Do you recall what day of the week that was?'
'It was a Wednesday. I had just come out of our regular staff luncheon meeting when Andrew telephoned.'
'What was the purpose of his call?'
'He asked to see me again, for dinner.'
'Had you heard from him since the last time you saw him, the night of your dinner at the Odeon?'
She shook her head back and forth.
'Words,' Judge Moffett said to her. 'You gotta answer in words. The court reporter can't take down your head movements.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Yes, you heard from him?' the judge asked.
'No, I meant no to that.' Now she sounded confused as well as slightly hysterical.
'Did you have dinner with the defendant?'
'Yes, I met him at seven-thirty, at a restaurant he suggested, near Grand Central Station.' Paige Vallis described the meal, the bottle of red wine they split, and the conversation, which was mostly about the boy, Dulles Tripping.
'How was the dinner paid for this time?'
'Andrew took the check,' she said.
Robelon called out, 'What'd she say, Judge? I couldn't hear it.'
It was hard for him to hear the answers that were helpful to his arguments, and those he would ask Paige Vallis to repeat. I could tell how he would work this fact. Now that Andrew Tripping had paid for the food and wine, of course his date was willing to put out for him. Robelon wanted to underscore that for the jury.
Paige had accounted for most of their time together in the restaurant. Then Andrew asked her if she wanted to come to his apartment to meet his son, Dulles.
'Yes, I said that I did. Andrew hadn't told me until that moment that he had left the boy alone for the evening. I was surprised, considering how young he was. So I agreed to go with him.'
There was no touching, no hand-holding, no suggestion of intimacy as they walked to the building on East Thirty-sixth Street.
'Andrew opened the apartment door with a key. It was completely dark inside, so I thought perhaps-'
'Objection.'
'Sustained.'
'What happened when you entered the apartment?' I asked.
'Andrew turned on the light. Dulles wasn't asleep-I figured he might have been, because it was almost ten o'clock, and because it was so strange that he would be waiting in total darkness,' Vallis said, slipping in her 'thought' by the back door. 'He was sitting on a chair, a straight-backed wooden chair, in a corner of the living room.'
'Who spoke first?'
'Andrew did. He told the boy my name and asked him to introduce himself.'
'And did he?'
'No. He didn't say a word. He didn't move a muscle. Andrew spoke again, and like a military commander, ordered Dulles to stand up and come shake my hand.'
'What did you observe as the boy approached you?'
