Turning to the reporter, Terri nodded.
The man raised his right hand, inviting Fleet to emulate him. The breadth of Fleet's smile diminished to a play of lips.
"Do you solemnly swear," the reporter intoned, "to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Please state your name for the record," Terri said.
"Eddie Fleet."
"What is your occupation?"
The twitch of a smile reappeared. "Handyman."
At once, Terri decided to bypass further background questions. In the same businesslike tone, she inquired, "Do you know a woman named Betty Sims?"
The smile vanished abruptly. Though Fleet did not move, a tensile alertness seemed to seize his body. "Knew her," he corrected.
"In what way did you know Betty Sims?"
Fleet glanced toward his lawyer. "She was my girlfriend."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"Long time ago," Fleet answered with a shrug. "Don't remember exactly."
"Maybe I can jog your memory," Terri said. "Did Betty Sims have a daughter?"
Fleet's eyes narrowed. "Yeah."
"What was the daughter's name?"
"Can't remember."
"Was it Lacy?"
As Fleet hesitated, Terri watched him try to calculate how she knew this. "Yeah," he allowed. "Guess that's right. Been a long time since I seen her, too."
"How long?"
Hall placed a cautionary hand on Fleet's wrist. "What's the relevance of this?" he interjected.
Terri kept staring at Fleet. "Bear with me for another couple of questions. Unless you think Mr. Fleet's knowledge of Lacy Sims is somehow incriminating."
"No," Hall snapped. "Just irrelevant."
"Not your call. When you last saw Lacy Sims, Mr. Fleet, how old was she?"
Down the table, two heads—Pell's and Terrell's—leaned forward for a better view. Slowly, Hall pulled back his hand. With a shrug of calculated boredom, Fleet answered, "Maybe twelve."
"Thank you," Terri said amiably. "Ever put your penis in Lacy's mouth?"
Almost imperceptibly, Fleet's shoulders twitched. His eyes on Terri's were like burn holes. "What the hell is this?" Hall demanded.
"A question." Barely pausing, Terri asked of Fleet, "Do you need it read back to you, or do you still have it in mind?"
Fleet glared at her. Once again, Terri imagined him wondering if she had found Betty or her daughter—or both. Without looking at the reporter, Terri requested, "Please read back the pending question."
At the corner of her vision, the reporter held up his steno tape to read it, repeating in a monotone, " 'Ever put your penis in Lacy's mouth?' "
Larry Pell put down his pen. Briefly, Fleet looked in Pell's direction, a decision forming in his eyes. "Why'd I do that?" he demanded.
"So if Betty and Lacy say you forced Lacy to give you oral sex, they'd be lying?"
It was a bluff. But—instead of answering—Fleet began turning toward Hall, then stopped himself. Beneath his hesitance, Terri was suddenly sure, lay a poisonous fear. "That would be two witnesses against one," she prodded. "Care to ask your lawyer about perjury?"
"You can skip the commentary," Hall instructed Terri, and he took Fleet by the arm, turning him away from the conference table and Terri. In profile, Hall's lips moved, and then Fleet murmured an answer.
"Let the record reflect," Terri directed the reporter, "that the witness is consulting with counsel."
Fleet spun on Terri. "Anything that bitch says," he hissed across the table, "is gettin' back at me."
"Which 'bitch'?" Terri inquired softly. "Lacy, or her mother?"
A look of entrapment stole into Fleet's eyes; in that moment, Terri felt a flash of guilt, the visceral sense that she had placed another woman and her daughter at risk. "Betty," Fleet answered. "Who you think I meant?"
"Because you beat her?"
Fleet paused again. "Just cuffed her now and then, for mouthin' off. Weren't nothin' . . ."
"Ever hit her on the face?"
Fleet leaned back in his chair. Terri watched him consider his choices and then decide, quite visibly, that domestic violence was both a distraction and a defense. "Sometimes," he allowed. "Maybe a black eye or two."
"Thank you for your candor. Did you ever force Lacy Sims to give you oral sex?"
"Asked and answered," Hall snapped.
"Actually, he never answered that question. You both just hoped I hadn't noticed." Terri kept her voice quiet and even. "So let me ask the question one more time: Did you force Betty Sims's daughter Lacy to put your penis in her mouth?"
Hall clasped Fleet's wrist. "This is not relevant," he insisted.
Terri looked at Hall directly. "Your client's a pedophile. To say that's 'relevant' is an understatement. He's got two choices, and not answering isn't one of them."
Hall seemed to bristle and then, more slowly, to gauge the dilemma of a client he barely knew. "I'm going to discuss this with Mr. Fleet," he said brusquely. "Outside."
Fleet remained frozen, staring at Terri with naked hatred. "Come on," Hall told him.
Fleet slowly rose, gazing down at Terri. Yeah, she thought, with a loathing all her own, that's how you like it—standing up. And then she realized the molten force which lay beneath her lawyer's coldness—for her, Eddie Fleet was her husband Richie, except that she would destroy him this time before he wounded another child. But all she let Fleet see was the smile on her lips.
Hall led Fleet outside. Through the glass windows of the conference room, Terri watched them: Hall's mouth, moving quickly, seemed to speak with increasing vehemence. A head taller than his lawyer, Fleet bent to hear him. Inside the conference room, no one spoke.
At last, Hall stopped speaking. Scowling, Fleet gazed down at him, then nodded. Ignoring the expectant gazes of those waiting, Fleet, then his lawyer, reclaimed their seats across from Terri.
"Mr. Fleet," Hall announced, "objects to this irrelevant harping on domestic disputes and other ancillary matters. Therefore, he's forced to invoke his Fifth Amendment right not to answer the pending question."
"The purpose of the Fifth Amendment," Terri answered calmly, "is not to avoid questions simply because a witness doesn't like them." Turning to Fleet, she said, "I asked if you ever forced Lacy Sims to take your penis in her mouth. Are you invoking the Fifth Amendment because your answer might tend to incriminate you?"
Fleet folded his arms. "I invoke the Fifth Amendment."
Terri tilted her head in a pose of curiosity. "Have you ever forced a minor child to take your penis in her mouth?"
At the end of the table, Larry Pell shifted in his chair, fully appreciating, Terri felt sure, the nature of her trap for Eddie Fleet, and for him. Fleet's lip, curling to expose his upper teeth, lent a feral aspect to his eyes.
"I invoke the Fifth Amendment," he repeated.
"Have you ever put your penis in the mouth of a minor Asian female?"
Fleet's voice rose. "I invoke the Fifth Amendment."
Eyes still fixed on Fleet, Terri drew a photograph from the manila folder between them. Calmly, she slid it down the table to the court reporter. "I ask that this photograph be marked as Fleet exhibit number one."
Pale, the reporter gazed down at the exhibit, then made a notation in its margin.
He slid it back to Terri. Silent, she handed the photograph to Carlo. Turning to Janice Terrell, he placed it in her hands, eyes locking hers until she looked down at what he had given her. "Thank you," Carlo said politely. "Please pass it on."
Pell took the exhibit from Terrell's hands. After a perfunctory glance, he passed it back to Carlo.