Ben went over his opening statement a last time before heading for court. Jamie had given him feedback, and he was as satisfied as he could be with his efforts. He looked up at a knock, and saw Jack standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No, not really," Ben said. "I'm just giving it a once over before I head to court."

"May I?"

Ben nodded. Jack was barred from the courtroom until after his testimony, but there was no harm in letting him read Ben's opening. He knew it all, anyway, hell, he'd lived it. Jack took the statement and backed onto Ben's couch. He read carefully but not slowly, Ben watched his face for reactions. Finished, he looked up with damp eyes.

"That's great, Ben."

"Thank you. I just hope it comes across that we feel two people died without crossing the line with Judge Pongracic."

Jack nodded. "My stomach's in knots just anticipating facing Diana on cross. I'm afraid I'll lose it and go for her throat." He got up and gave the statement back to Ben. "Go kick ass." He left, his eyes still damp, but he was erect and controlled.

Ben watched the empty doorway for a few seconds, remembering the things Danielle and the ladies told him, they were certainly effective at excavating dirt. And then he felt for Jack, who heard it all, lived it all over again in his mind. Please let me bring him some peace, he thought, not knowing if he was talking to Claire or to some abstract God. He never thought the day would come when he'd have a bond with Jack McCoy, let alone that the bond would be Claire Kincaid. It had eaten at him, learning they were involved, he wandered the Paris streets he'd wanted to show her, thinking of the two of them, the jealousy almost more than he could stand.

"Ben?" Jamie stood in the doorway. "It's time."

He nodded and got his jacket and briefcase. He slipped into his suit coat before going out the door, then held the briefcase and walked with Jamie down the corridor to the elevator.

The courthouse steps were busy, and they picked their way through the people and press. This case caught a lot of attention from the press, they were playing it as a love triangle gone wrong, and the fact that Claire was an ADA merely spiced the story. Ruthie and Danielle waited at the top of the steps, then Sally came up from the left. Ben knew Shelly was around somewhere.

"We'll be right behind you, Ben," Ruthie said.

He nodded, focusing his thoughts on his opening statement and the damage he must inflict with one shot. He and Jamie walked into the courtroom before it opened to the public and took their seats at the prosecutor's table. Ben glanced over at Diana and her shadow counsel. Diana was reading her own statement, on a legal pad, and he knew she would make notes to counter his opening arguments. Then the doors opened for the gallery, but Ben didn't turn around. He focused on Claire, on her smile when he made some gentle witticism, her frown when he corrected her. He kept her face firmly in mind as the words of his opening ran through his mind.

They were called to stand, and Lisa Pongracic came in. She took her seat on the bench, ordered seats, and then addressed the attorneys. "I know there are some sensitive issues involved, but I will not have these proceedings turned into a circus. I will not hesitate to issue contempt citations. Do you understand?" Both attorneys nodded. "Mr. Stone, you may proceed with your opening statement as soon as the jury is seated." She nodded to the bailiff guarding the jury room, and he opened the door. The jury filed in and took their seats. Once they settled, Judge Pongracic said "Proceed, Mr. Stone."

Ben rose, buttoned his suit coat, and approached the jury, a gentle smile on his face. Then he cleared his throat. "This is a case that could, in simpler circumstances, be reduced to a love triangle gone horribly wrong. Yet this is anything but simple. The core of the case is a conspiracy by Diana Hawthorne and John Baumgarten to murder Assistant District Attorney Claire Kincaid and make it look like a drunk driving accident. And they almost succeeded. Why did they want Ms. Kincaid to die? That's simple enough, she was the prosecuting attorney in the trial that deprived Diana Hawthorne of her freedom and her license to practice law. Diana Hawthorne was the driving force in this conspiracy, Mr. Baumgarten merely did as she told him, for he owed her his freedom, and for that, he'd trade twelve months in jail as opposed to twelve years."

He drew a breath and turned to look at Diana, who looked back. "Let's backtrack a little, talk about that case Ms. Kincaid prosecuted so effectively. Six years ago, Ms. Hawthorne broke the law by concealing evidence and suborning perjury in the trial of a man accused of the serial killings of young black males. Yes, Ms. Hawthorne was, at that time, an ADA, the assistant of Jack McCoy, now the Executive Assistant District Attorney for major felonies. They'd had an affair, and it was beginning to go sour. In an effort to impress Mr. McCoy, to hold on to him, she tampered with that trial, and shortly afterward, he was appointed to his current position. She felt she was owed gratitude, among other things, but still, it ended, and ended badly. But, being adults, they moved on. A few years later, Ms. Kincaid became Mr. McCoy's assistant. She was beautiful and brilliant, with a wonderful future ahead of her. How do I know these things? She was my assistant before I resigned from the DA's office. She went to Mr. McCoy with my highest recommendation."

He turned back to the jury. "And Ms. Kincaid and Mr. McCoy fell in love. No doubt Ms. Hawthorne heard about it, she was in and out of court and no doubt heard the gossip, saw them together, and somewhere inside of her, it burned, but she was able to deal with it. Moving on and all that, right? And then the police uncovered evidence that led to the trial and conviction of Ms. Hawthorne for criminal facilitation, prosecuted by Ms. Kincaid, Mr. McCoy's current lover. Ms. Kincaid laid a brilliant trap for Ms. Hawthorne, but in the end, she cut a generous deal with her rather than see her convicted and sentenced to a harsher, longer term. Ms. Hawthorne went off to prison, and Ms. Kincaid went on with life, indeed, she created life with Mr. McCoy, becoming pregnant. Perhaps that was the proverbial straw that broke this camel's back, because suddenly John Baumgarten became a frequent visitor to Bedford. We will produce witnesses who overheard their conversations, heard Ms. Hawthorne instruct Mr. Baumgarten to stalk Ms. Kincaid, and, when opportunity presented itself, to arrange an accident, assuring him he'd do no more than a year, and she'd be there for him when he got out."

Ben paused and got a drink of water. "I'm sure many of you have heard of the Mickey Scott case, of the man who was executed for raping and beating a young woman to death. Mr. McCoy and Ms. Kincaid prosecuted him, and he was sentenced to death. The detectives who caught him and the prosecutors who sought justice were present for his execution. It affected each of them differently, and Ms. Kincaid, who was not feeling well as it was from her early pregnancy, went her own way to deal with her emotions at watching a man die. We know John Baumgarten caught up with her briefly in Central Park. We know that Mr. McCoy went to a bar, and eventually he called Ms. Kincaid to come get him. She took longer than expected, and Mr. McCoy took a cab home. When Ms. Kincaid arrived, she found one of the detectives, Mr. Briscoe, there instead. Finding him somewhat intoxicated, she offered him a ride home. We have witnesses who put Mr. Baumgarten in that bar, leaving just before Ms. Kincaid.

"It was a rainy night, ladies and gentlemen, so Ms. Kincaid drove carefully, after all, she had a child to consider. And then, out of the darkness, came the headlights of a speeding Dodge Ram truck, which crashed into the driver's door of Ms. Kincaid's small car. Her injuries were terrible, as the medical examiner will testify. Mr. Baumgarten walked away without a scratch. Detective Briscoe suffered minor injuries. Ms. Kincaid did not die at once, her young body fought for her life, for the life of her baby, but in the end, she couldn't win this one. And we all thought it was a tragic accident caused by a drunk behind the wheel.

"And then new evidence came to light. A casual conversation led to an investigation, and that investigation proved without doubt that Diana Hawthorne planned and executed a murder, destroying more than one life, devastating those who loved her, and they were many." He made a casual gesture to the packed gallery. "We will prove the conspiracy to murder an officer of the court, a law enforcement agent in the eyes of the law, which carries the severest of penalties. You know that we seek the death penalty in this case, as the law demands for such a crime. Don't let the idea of some twisted love triangle influence your thinking, for there was no triangle. Mr. McCoy and Ms. Kincaid were in love, committed to each other, to the child they were bringing into the world. Diana Hawthorne was nothing but a bad memory for Mr. McCoy, and I'd be surprised if Ms. Kincaid ever gave her a second thought. You will hear from those who knew her, from those who investigated the allegations of conspiracy, from Mr. McCoy, from the witnesses who overheard her planning sessions. There isn't a doubt in the world that she's guilty of the most terrible crime, an assassination if you will, of the woman who put her in jail and took away her livelihood, a cold blooded execution of the woman who replaced her in Mr. McCoy's affections as well as in her old job. You will hear, as New York law allows, the impact statement of Mr. McCoy. And you will do the right thing, convinced and convicted by the evidence alone, that Diana Hawthorne is a cold blooded killer who deserves not a drop of sympathy from you. Thank you." He took his seat.

Diana got up, slowly, dressed in a new suit, with a new haircut. She almost resembled her old self, the self-assured professional woman. She smiled at the jury. "That's quite a tale Mr. Stone weaves," she began, "but that's just what it is, a tale, with nothing to support it but gossip from inmates convicted of felonies who cut deals with the prosecution. Yes, I represented John Baumgarten at one time, and we formed a bond of sorts. Of course he came to visit, bringing small gifts as one does when visiting a prisoner unjustly imprisoned on a questionable charge. You will hear of my cellmate, the wife of a New Jersey mobster, who made the mistake of laundering mob money in New York State, and who, with the typical mob mentality, encouraged me to seek the ultimate payback. I listened to her, what choice did I have, but that was all. I discarded her devious plans as nothing more than the workings of a mob wife's mind. Claire Kincaid's death was indeed nothing more than a tragic accident. The prosecution will try to play upon your sympathy, emphasizing Ms. Kincaid's pregnancy – without benefit of wedlock I might add, which, given her position as a public servant, was inappropriate in itself, but you must remember that the State of New York does not recognize a fetus as a person, so the pregnancy is not relevant. You will find them tugging at your heartstrings to camouflage their weak case, presenting that unfortunate young woman as Saint Claire, and I assure you, no, I will establish beyond doubt, that she was no saint. You will hear what their so-called prison witnesses really heard, and you will realize this sham prosecution is nothing more than an attempt by a bereaved lover to take his pain and loss out on the closest target, me. This is a persecution, ladies and gentlemen, not a prosecution. And you will, being sensible people, realize that acquittal is your only option, leaving me to rebuild my life. I can only hope Mr. McCoy finds a way to rebuild his. Thank you." She retired to her table and waited.

"Mr. Stone, call your first witness."

Ben stood and said "The People call Doctor Elizabeth Rodgers."

Jamie glanced at the jury. She had discouraged Ben from opening with the carnage, but he said he wanted that first and foremost in their minds, and he wanted to spare Jack having to listen to it. Foundational, he told Jamie, show exactly how she died and leave that in their minds.

Dr. Rodgers came in, dressed in a suit, confident and cool. She was sworn in, and Ben asked her to state her name and position

"Elizabeth Rodgers, Chief Medical Examiner for New York County."

"And in that capacity, you perform autopsies?"

"I do."

"You're familiar with violent death."

"I am."

"Could you tell us, did you perform the autopsy on Claire Kincaid?"

"Yes."

"Would you describe the proceedings for the jury?"

"Yes. If my photographs could be brought in?"

A bailiff went for the easel covered with a cloth and set it up next to Rodgers. "Ms. Kincaid died at Hudson Medical Center and her body was brought to the medical examiner's office an hour later. I personally performed the autopsy." She got up and pulled the cloth. A black and white photograph of Claire's mangled body faced the jury, and gasps went up. "She suffered massive blunt force trauma from the impact, the brain swelling was enough to kill her, but her ribs were crushed, her pelvis broken, as were her knees. You can see from the photograph that her head took a major blow." She pointed to the wound on Claire's forehead. The bailiff then covered the photograph and removed the easel.

"Did you find anything else when you performed the autopsy?"

"She was a very healthy twenty-nine year old woman, eight weeks pregnant, in great shape."

"Thank you, Dr. Rodgers." He walked back to his table.

Diana got up, circling toward Diana. "Dr. Rodgers. I'm sure you did a thorough job, but tell me, wasn't there a conflict of interest? Shouldn't someone else have performed that task?"

"I am the chief medical examiner, there's no one more qualified than I am."

Diana smiled. "But didn't you have a personal relationship with Ms. Kincaid?"

Liz frowned. "We didn't socialize, if that's what you mean. Of course I met with her often in the course of professional duties."

"Did you have an opinion of her?"

"I liked her."

"And that didn't affect your judgment?"

"Certainly not. She was a body, and I had to get the answers to the cause of her death."

"And how did her pregnancy contribute to the cause of her death?"

Liz frowned. "It didn't. It did help explain her good health, she clearly took care of herself. And I was asked if I found anything else when I did the autopsy. I found a perfectly formed male fetus."

"A fetus is not a person in the eyes of the laws of this state, correct?"

"Yes, that's true," Liz said, shifting on the hard chair.

"Did Ms. Kincaid show any signs of previous disease, or recent sexual contact?"

Liz frowned, her eyes flashing. "Absolutely no signs of previous disease, but yes, there was evidence she'd had intercourse in the last forty-eight hours of her life."

"Did you test the semen for DNA?"

"No, there was no reason to do so. She was in a committed relationship."

"With a man twice her age. Isn't it possible she sought the companionship of someone closer to her age?"

Liz sighed. "It's highly unlikely. I can't say impossible, but knowing Claire Kincaid, it's inconceivable."

Ben stood. "Your Honor, I object to this line of questioning. Ms. Kincaid is not on trial, and her sexual history is irrelevant."

Diana shot back with "Her personal history is important. The prosecution wishes to paint her as a saint, innocence personified, and myself as the Wicked Witch of the West."

Lisa Pongracic sighed. This was not going to get out of hand. "Overruled, but wind it up, Ms. Hawthorne, now."

Diana nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Rodgers." She turned and walked back to her table. Liz left the stand and took a seat in the gallery in the front row with the women attorneys.

One of the uniformed officers who first responded to the accident scene was called and sworn. Ben approached him. "Sir, you were the first on the scene. Can you tell us what you found?"

"The smaller car, the victim's car, had been pushed several feet away from the impact with the truck. A young woman was inside, severely injured. I called for an ambulance and fire response, since they carry the jaws of life. And I found the passenger pounding the driver of the other car. I promptly restrained him, and put the driver of the truck in handcuffs, in my car. He smelled of alcohol, and made no effort to resist. Then I aided in freeing Ms. Kincaid from her car, once I had Detective Briscoe seated on a curb. One paramedic did a quick examination of him, then all attention turned to the young woman in the car."

"How long have you been on the force, sir?"

"Six years."

"And you've seen many accidents in that time, several of them fatal?

"I have."

"And what was your opinion regarding Ms. Kincaid?"

"That if she wasn't dead then, she would be soon. She weighed maybe one twenty, that truck weighed a ton."

"Can you estimate how fast the truck was traveling when it struck Ms. Kincaid?"

"In excess of forty-five miles an hour."

"Did you see skid marks, any indication that the driver tried to avoid a collision?"

"No sir, I did not."

"Thank you, sir. I have no more questions."

Diana rose. "Just a few questions, Officer." Her smile was warm, disarming. "It was raining that night, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"So seeing skid marks would be extremely difficult, would it not?"

"Difficult but not impossible, especially to a trained eye."

"And you determined on the spot that the driver was drunk?"

"He reeked of alcohol, and he later blew a point zero eight, over the legal limit."

"So your conclusions, as the investigating traffic officer, was that this was nothing more than a drunken driving accident."

"Yes ma'am."

"Thank you, officer. I have no more questions."

He left the stand and the courtroom. Ben then called Lennie Briscoe, who was sworn and stated his name and occupation. Ben stood before him, relaxed.

"Detective Briscoe, you were in the car with Ms. Kincaid?"

"I was."

"Why was that?"

"She was giving me a ride home."

"And can you describe what happened?"

"We were talking, and suddenly these headlights came out of an intersection at high speed and slammed into her little car. My head hit the window on my side of the car, cutting my forehead, but otherwise I was OK. I got out of the car to check on Claire. I've seen a lot of dead bodies in my career, I knew she was either gone or would be soon." He kept his tone dry, dispassionate. "And then I went for the driver of the truck, I'm ashamed to say."

"Why did you do that?"

"I cared about that young woman, she was like a daughter to me. She didn't deserve what happened."

"Move to strike," Diana called.

The judge nodded. "The jury will disregard the witness's last remark."

Ben moved on. "She was bringing you home from a bar, correct?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I'd run into McCoy in the same bar, he was waiting for her, but then he got tired of waiting and left. Something, I still can't say exactly what, made me order a drink, a double, and in the time it took for Ms. Kincaid to arrive, I'd had several."

"Did you notice any patron come in after Ms. Kincaid and leave before you did?"

"No. I was engaged in conversation with her, we were joking that it wouldn't be so bad if she was my kid." A fond smile broke on his face. "I do remember that she looked up and at the onrushing headlights in the seconds before it hit."

"So she knew what was coming."

"Yes."

"Did she say anything?"

"No. No time."

"Thank you, Detective." Ben walked back to his table.

Diana strode toward Lennie, trying to hide her animosity. "Were you attracted to Ms. Kincaid, Detective?"

He frowned. "I'm not sure I understand your question. She was a very attractive person, but it wasn't sexual on my part. I was more than twice her age."

"That didn't seem to bother Mr. McCoy."

"Your Honor!" Ben objected.

"Counselor, this is your one warning. Be careful where you tread. The jury will disregard the defense's last remark, it's stricken." She nodded at the court reporter.

"So were you attracted to Ms. Kincaid?"

"As a person. Not as a romantic partner."

"What did you talk about in the car?"

"Asked and answered," Ben called out, and the judge nodded. Diana frowned, then took a different tack.

"How long did you know Ms. Kincaid?"

"Uh, three years, I think. We met when she joined Mr. Stone's staff."

"Did you notice if she seemed attracted to older men?"

"Your Honor," Ben said, standing.

"Foundational to my case, Your Honor. Ms. Kincaid was not a saint, and the jury has a right to know that."

"We are not trying the victim, Ms. Hawthorne. I'll allow the question as it is to stand, but you are not to go where I think you're going."

Lennie looked at the judge, who nodded for him to answer. "No, I did not notice any attraction to older men."

Diana gave up, she wasn't going to be able to push through questions about Claire's sexual history right now. "I have no more questions for this witness," she said, and retired to her table.

Ben stood. "Your Honor, I will be recalling this witness later."

"Very well. You're excused for now, Mr. Briscoe, but you remain under oath and may not discuss your testimony with anyone."

Then Ben called Jack McCoy, working backward through that terrible day. Jack was sworn, and he studiously avoided looking at Diana, looking at Ben or at the row of women just on the other side of the bar. He was breathing slowly and deeply.

"Mr. McCoy," Ben began, "would you tell us about that day, the last day of Claire Kincaid's life?"

He nodded. "It began at midnight, with the execution of Mickey Scott. Then we drove home. Claire was too quiet, and I tried to talk to her, and she broke down in tears. I thought it was probably hormones, but then she began to rage against the death penalty, and we argued until we got home. We went to bed, and I tried to comfort her. I thought everything was going to be OK, but in the morning, she was still upset, and the argument began afresh. Traffic was heavy as usual in Manhattan and I wanted out of the car, wanted to avoid more arguing about a done deal. She said she wasn't feeling well, I was sure it was morning sickness, and offered up the flu as an excuse for the office, then told her to take the day off. I tried calling her several times, but got no answer. By one, I couldn't take it anymore, I kept thinking about her, about the execution, and I took the afternoon off. I wandered around and found this little bar, where I spent the afternoon and early evening hours. At some point, I paged her and she returned my call, promising to come get me. Detective Briscoe showed up about then, and after what seemed an eternity, I asked him what time it was, I couldn't read my watch." He sighed. "He said 'it says she's not coming' which pissed me off, not at him, but at Claire. I thought she was carrying this whole thing too far. So I left, in a taxi. The next thing I remember is the phone ringing and my world changed in a heartbeat."

"Now, sir, I apologize for this question, but the defense has inquired of the medical examiner. Ms. Kincaid has sexual relations in the forty-eight hours before she died."

"We made love the day before the execution, a way of ending the arguments and drawing closer, remembering that we were was what really mattered."

"Ms. Kincaid was faithful to you?"

"Absolutely."

"How can you be sure?"

"We lived together, we worked together. We were rarely apart, and besides, we were totally committed to each other. It was not in Claire's nature to betray anyone. She'd been betrayed and knew how it felt."

"Hearsay, Your Honor," Diana called.

"I'll allow it," was the response.

Ben changed gears, taking Jack right back to that night. "When you arrived at the hospital, was Ms. Kincaid still alive?"

"Yes. Mr. Schiff sent a car for me, and the driver escorted me into a waiting room, where I found her parents, Detectives Briscoe and Curtis, and Lieutenant Van Buren. I was told the prognosis was not good, that she was in surgery, but her injuries were severe. And then the surgeon came out." His voice quivered for a second, then he was back in control. "She died on the table. She and our baby."

"Your Honor," Diana objected, "as Mr. McCoy well knows, a fetus is not a person."

"It was to me," he snapped.

"Mr. McCoy," Judge Pongracic said, gently, "I will allow Mr. McCoy's feelings regarding his impending child to stand. You have not been charged with killing the fetus, Ms. Hawthorne, just its mother."

Diana smiled, boy was that last remark grounds for appeal, she thought. "Very well, Your Honor."

"I have nothing more for this witness," Ben said, and he met Jack's eyes.

Diana stood before him, a tormenting smile on her face. She read the pain and rage in his eyes, and hoped to provoke him into doing something truly stupid. "So," she began, "you spent the day in a bar. Fond of booze, are you, Mr. McCoy?"

"Objection, Your Honor, relevance."

"Goes to character, Your Honor, to the accuracy of his memories."

"Overruled."

Jack looked at Diana with more hatred than he'd ever felt in his life. "I like to drink, as most people do."

"Ever drink too much, like on the day in question?"

He frowned. "Yes, I was intoxicated that day."

"Any days since then?"

"I suppose one or two wouldn't pass muster with AA."

"Do you belong to AA, Mr. McCoy?"

"No."

"Back to the day in question. If you loved Ms. Kincaid, as you now allege, why didn't you wait for her? After all, a pregnant woman wandering into a strange bar? Doesn't sound like the actions of a man who loved his woman."

Jack looked at Ben, waiting for an objection that didn't come. "I was impaired, and as you well know, I have a short fuse sometimes. I was tired, I wanted to go to sleep. And I knew Briscoe was in the bar, he'd certainly look after her if she needed it. Make no mistake about it, Ms. Hawthorne, I loved that woman, more than I've ever loved anyone."

That hit home, but she'd opened the door. "And you're certain the child she carried was yours?"

"I am."

"How can you be so sure?" Diana twisted her knife, wanting to wound this man, provoke him.

"I was there. And I don't recall anyone else sharing our bed."

"Oh, so you planned this, you know when it happened?"

He flushed and again appealed to Ben, who shrugged. "Yes, we knew when it happened."

She switched tacks, like an expert sailor. "You're quite a bit older than Ms. Kincaid, correct?"

"I certainly am now," he replied, "Since she'll never get older."

"But you weren't the first older man she took to her bed, were you?"

This time Ben did object. "Your Honor, you've already ruled on this."

Lisa fixed Diana with a penetrating glare. "I have. You'll be writing a check at the end of the day, Counselor, and your cross-examination ends here." She looked at the jury. "The defense's last question is stricken, and you will disregard it." Then she looked at Jack, and he saw a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. "You're excused, Mr. McCoy." Then she looked at her watch. "And we'll adjourn here for lunch, court is in recess until one o'clock." She tapped her gavel and got up.

--xx—

The Harem, as they jokingly referred to themselves privately, took Jack to lunch. He felt they were guarding him, as if he'd dive into a bottle before he got to make his impact statement. They sat in a large booth near the front of the restaurant and ordered. Jack didn't have much appetite, but he ordered a steak sandwich to keep the commentary to a minimum.

"Opinions," Ruthie said.

"Diana's going after Claire, that's obvious, but I don't think Pongracic is going to let her get away it. Those were some cheap shots, Jack."

He shrugged. "She can take all the cheap shots she wants. That was my baby, I know it and everyone else knows it, she isn't going to plant doubt in my heart."

Danielle reached in her purse and removed an envelope. "Call it prescience, but." She cleared her throat. "Rodgers and I had a long talk a couple of weeks ago. She had some preserved tissue from Claire and from the baby, and I, of course, had that paper coffee cup from our day in the park." She passed the envelope to Jack. "It was most certainly your baby."

He glanced at the DNA report, then gave it back to Danielle. "I know," he said, softly. "But thank you." He stared into space. "I always wondered why she fell in love with me, when there were so many guys her age sniffing around, but I loved those 'lucky bastard' looks I'd get when we were out."

Ruthie shuddered. "God, what if she calls Joel Thayer?"

"For what? He has no standing, nothing to say on her death," Danielle said.

"But he'd certainly make a great character assassination witness."

"Pongracic has ruled on that," Danielle argued. "Claire is not on trial."

"It won't stop Diana from trying," Shelly said. "You were great, Jack. I sort of expected you to go flying across the box and break her neck on the spot."

He smiled, that crooked smile they all knew. "I was tempted."

Lunch arrived, and they talked of other things. Jack took part in the conversation, even laughed at some of Ruthie's antics, and then it was time to return for the afternoon session.