So she was forcing the words out, but her body language betrayed no weakness. She sat at the room's one long table, an elbow resting on it, her legs crossed in a relaxed posture. Her confession concerned her technical failure, but there was very little mea culpa. "So we took a hit, Stuart. My fault more than yours, but there it is. But I didn't screw this up all by myself. I didn't let Kymberly talk to Bethany, and if you had bothered to tell me that you were going to let her, I would have pointed out what a truly terrible idea that was. I didn't run from the police. And as for the gun, you seem to forget the reason they found it on you is that you refused to give it to me."
"All right, fine," Stuart said. "I'll accept all that. But why should I have to keep paying the price for it now?"
"Well, the easy answer is you don't have to, Stuart. You say the word, and I'm gone and that's the end of it." Her bulldog expression dared him to call her on it if that was his decision. She wasn't going to show any sign of wanting or needing this job. She could take whatever he could dish out. But when his eyes fell away from her gaze, it seemed to her to be a small retreat. She still had some control over her fate here; for some reason, perhaps only inertia, maybe a fear of the devil he didn't know, he was reluctant to pull the trigger and tell her he was going to go with another lawyer.
"The thing is, Stuart," she said, "I don't know if you can tell or if you care, but I'm pretty angry right now. At Juhle mostly, but also at Gerry Abrams and even Clarence Jackman. They didn't have to play your arrest the way they did. I was being cooperative. We were coming in the next morning, and they knew it. So it was all macho bullshit."
"Pretty effective macho bullshit, though."
"Sure. Sometimes it is. But now I know where they're coming from. I know how they intend to play it. I've been doing this- defending people in Superior Court-for twenty-some years. I'm on great terms with the judges and bailiffs and clerks, and don't let yourself believe that doesn't matter. We get into court and Mr. Abrams and Inspector Juhle will, I hope, suddenly discover that I'm a bit of an old pro myself. And now I'm an old pro with a grudge and a score to settle, and I don't intend to make it pretty." She paused. "If you'd like me to stay on."
"Given that, are you sure you'd want to?"
"Yes, of course. I thought I'd made that clear. But while we're talking and before you make up your mind for good, there's one other thing we've got to get straight."
Stuart sighed and scratched at the stubble on his neck. "What's that?"
"Well, with all respect," she mustered her calmest voice, "I understand how you feel about the arrest and then me telling Juhle you weren't and never had been armed. That was a mistake too. If I hadn't told him you'd never taken the gun, okay, we're arguably in a much better position right now. So that's strike two on me.
"But the problems haven't been all on me. I didn't take the gun in the first place. You took the gun, and that's why you had it with you. That's not anything to do with me. If you remember, I wanted to take it home with me that night, get it out of your hands. I pleaded with you to let me have it. That was my advice. But you overruled me."
"I thought I might need it."
"Right. That's what you said. Your ecoterrorist friend might have followed you somehow. But the point is: why you're in all this trouble right now, it isn't all me. It isn't even mostly me. I wish it were. But I need you to see that so much of this is what _you did. Talking to Juhle that first day. Deciding to take your gun with you. Sneaking out through your back door. Stealing license plates. Using a phony name. Asking Kymberly to talk to Bethany…"
"She did that on her own."
"Maybe. But that's not what Bethany said she told her."
"She got it wrong, then." Stuart put both of his hands up to his forehead. "God, God, God." He looked across about four feet of space to where Gina sat. "So remind me. What are we arguing about?"
"About whether I keep my job or not. You've lost a lot of confidence in me, and I understand that. I wouldn't blame you, Stuart. But I'd like you to be sure that it's me, after all. Not just these shitty circumstances. And don't get me wrong, they're plenty shitty. I didn't predict any of this happening, and maybe I should have."
He nodded, then grew quiet for nearly a full minute, until he finally took a deep breath. "Help me out here, Gina. Kym's all over letting you go. So's Debra."
Gina shrugged. "It's not their call, Stuart."
"But then who do I go with? Jedd Conley? I don't know any other lawyers."
"I do," Gina said. "I could recommend any number of them. Though probably not Jedd," she added with a trace of humor. Then, in all seriousness, "Either one of my partners would take you on, and they're both excellent."
"But," he said. "I hear a 'but.' "
"No you don't. They're good guys and good lawyers with lots of experience. And they almost certainly wouldn't suffer from the incredible handicap of believing you're innocent. Wes-one of my partners-even told me, 'Whatever you do, don't start believing he's innocent. He'll just break your heart.' "
"Sounds like a sweetheart."
"He is." She met his eyes. "He's just another pro who's seen it all before. He often says he doesn't believe anybody except his dog. He loves his dog, though."
Stuart cocked his head. "What about your David?"
The question quickened her somehow. "What about him?"
"I mean, with his clients. Didn't he ever believe they were innocent?"
She took a moment before shaking her head. "His rule was he'd never ask and never let them tell him. It was one of the first things he always told his clients. 'I don't want to know. All I want to know is what evidence they've got and if I can make the jury doubt some or most of it. That's the job. Whether you did it or not doesn't matter to me.' "
"He didn't really feel that?"
"Oh, yes he did. Really for truly. With his whole heart." "And what about you?"
"Well"-she felt herself break a rueful smile, and it surprised her-"you're watching me break new ground. If I had come to this from a different angle, I don't know what I'd be thinking. Probably that, like everybody else, you don't get all the way to arrested if you're not guilty. As I say, that's the professional approach."
"This time I really do hear a 'but.' "
"Yep," she said. "You do." She raised her eyes and stared him full in the face. "But in this case, I don't believe you killed Caryn." Lowering her voice, she went on. "Wes may be right, I'll get my heart broken over it, but I don't think so."
"I won't break your heart," Stuart said.
"See? There I go believing you again." She met his eyes, all business. "But look, this is full-disclosure time. You know this is still my first murder case. You know that so far, to say it hasn't gone well is an understatement. There's some chance that even though I'm watching a lot more closely, and I'm a lot more pissed off, I might get sandbagged again. You might be better served with one of my partners or any number of other pretty good lawyers in town."
"Guys who'll believe I did it."
"Probably. But most wouldn't care to know, one way or another."
Stuart met her eyes again, but briefly, then abruptly he got up and walked over to the glass block wall that ran along one side of the room. He stood there for a few seconds before nodding to himself and turning around. "I didn't kill Caryn, Gina. I didn't love her anymore, but I didn't kill her."
"I know that. I believe that."
He closed his eyes for a second with obvious relief, then opened them and met her gaze straight on. "I think that's the most important thing."
"I think so too," Gina said, "though we're in the minority."
"I'm comfortable in the minority," Stuart said. "That's where I spend most of my time, anyway." Crossing back over to his chair, he pulled it around, up closer to Gina, and straddled it backward. "So this hearing tomorrow?" he said. "How bad is it going to be?"