"Really?" Casey said skeptically. "You don't attribute your violent behavior to your mental condition?"

"No," he said, spitting the word at her.

"But PTSD is something that can recur at any time," Casey said. "In fact, that's one of the characteristics of the disorder, isn't it? In fact, don't people who suffer from PTSD often lapse into fits of inexplicable violence?"

"Objection," Hopewood said. "Mr. Sales is not qualified as an expert in that area."

"Sustained. You will limit the scope of your questions to those the witness is qualified to answer, Ms. Jordan."

Casey paid no outward attention to the judge. She simply stared right back at Sales without blinking, then abruptly switched tracks. "You didn't like for your daughter to have boyfriends, did you, Mr. Sales?"

"Objection," Hopewood said. "Marcia Sales's boyfriends are irrelevant. The presumption that Professor Lipton fit that description is just that, a presumption."

"I'm allowing it," Rawlins said.

"He wasn't her boyfriend, you…" Sales muttered a rancid word under his breath. Casey looked pointedly at Rawlins. The judge's pride in having total control of the courtroom superseded even his animosity toward her.

"You will answer the questions, Mr. Sales," he said firmly. "And I've already told you that I will not allow another outburst from you in my courtroom."

"You didn't want her to have boyfriends, did you?" Casey repeated.

"I didn't care," Sales muttered sullenly.

"Oh no?" Casey said, raising one eyebrow. "But you didn't like Professor Lipton, did you?"

"No."

"In fact, you hated him, didn't you?"

"Of course," Sales sneered.

"And isn't it true that you hated your daughter's last boyfriend as well?"

"No."

"No? I'm referring to Frank Castle. Isn't it true that you attacked Mr. Castle one night when you found him alone with your daughter in her apartment?"

"I didn't attack him. We got into it a little, but I didn't attack him," Sales said.

"Because isn't it true that you used to sneak around your daughter's apartment looking through her windows at night?"

"I never did that, not like that, no."

"No? But you're familiar with Mr. Castle's deposition to the contrary, aren't you?"

"I saw what he said," Sales said contemptuously. "He was mad when Marcia dumped him. You can't believe what he says. Maybe he was scared because I kept an eye on him."

"Yes, you did," Casey said triumphantly. "You kept an eye on him and he was afraid. And the same was true with your daughter, wasn't it? You kept an eye on her, too, and she was afraid, wasn't she?"

"No. She was not. She was never afraid of me."

Casey looked at him with disbelief, then said, "Isn't it true that on the night you attacked Mr. Castle at your daughter's apartment that you threatened her as well?"

"That's a lie!"

"You were mad, isn't that true?" Casey spoke swiftly now, increasing the pace of the examination, hurrying him along.

"Yes, I was mad."

"In fact, you were enraged because you didn't want her to have a boyfriend, isn't that right?"

"That's not true. It was him I didn't like. He was a little, lying, conniving smart-ass."

"Because he tried to take her away from you, isn't that true?"

"No. He, he was a bad kid, too smart for his own good."

"You don't like smart people do you, Mr. Sales? People like Frank Castle and Professor Lipton, they threaten you, isn't that right?"

"No. They don't threaten me."

"But you don't like them."

"Them, those two I don't like, no."

"So you found your daughter and Mr. Castle alone in her apartment at school," Casey said, pulling up short with her pace, getting him off balance before the final push. "There they were, on the couch. They were kissing and fondling each other, and you burst in on them uninvited. You were enraged at him, and you were enraged at her, too, weren't you, Mr. Sales?"

"No."

"Didn't you say, in your rage"-here Casey paused dramatically, returned to her table, and picked up Castle's deposition, flipping the pages and reading to give it even more credibility with the jury-"after you shoved Frank Castle to the floor, didn't you in your rage tell her that if she didn't stop seeing him that you would kill her?"

Casey glanced at the jury and watched her arrow hit home.

"I never would have hurt my daughter," Sales growled. "Never."

"But you said you would kill her, didn't you? Didn't you?" she said quickly.

Sales hesitated too long before answering, "No."

Casey let the silence reign. She could feel the jury's eyes boring into Sales.

"Mr. Sales, let me remind you that you are under oath," Casey said venomously.

"Objection, Your Honor!" Hopewood barked. "Counsel is badgering the witness. The question has been asked and answered."

"Sustained. Move on, Ms. Jordan," Rawlins told her.

Casey paused, again using the silence and allowing the intensity to build before she said clearly, "Mr. Sales, did you ever have sex with your daughter?"

Sales's face went crimson with rage and he sprang from his seat, cursing Casey in every way he knew how. His own cries were nearly lost in the din of Hopewood screaming his objections and Rawlins bawling for order. The entire courtroom, right down to the jury, had erupted.

Lipton's quiet little chuckle spilled into the sterile room and Casey jerked around in her seat. She was momentarily gripped with panic, so strange was the sound. She was alone with Lipton after having sent Patti for her car while she debriefed the professor before the weekend.

"It was a masterpiece, my dear," Lipton chortled as he strode into the tiny room. "A masterpiece."

Casey only looked back down at her notes and nodded. Whereas before she had felt pride in Lipton's praise, she now felt strangely ashamed. She was a good lawyer, but there was no lasting pleasure in tearing someone apart on the witness stand.

Lipton sat down across from her and folded his long hands neatly on the battered table. He was beaming.

"I saw it in their faces," he said, referring to the jury. "They believe in you. You turned them. It was a brilliant stroke, asking if he'd ever had sex with her. It was even better when Rawlins instructed them to strike it from their minds, a perfect punctuation. I thought he was going to boil over…"

"Well, he did boil over," she told him.

"But you go for the jugular," Lipton said excitedly. "Really. It was brilliant, and you know I'm not one for flattery. It's your gift. I said so from the start. I daresay you could win a pardon for even the deadliest criminal…"

Casey looked up at him. His delight in her skills seemed inappropriate.

"A pardon suggests a level of guilt that requires forgiveness," she said solemnly.

Lipton smiled at her in a funny way before saying, "I think your skills go beyond guilt and innocence. I think your skills supersede justice…"

Casey frowned.

"It's true. If I were guilty of killing the girl," he continued, still smiling enigmatically, "I would still be set free, therefore pardoned by the judicial system. I see that look on your face. But have no fear. I am as innocent as a… as a lamb…"

His words brought little comfort, but maybe it was her own nagging sense of guilt that was weighing Casey down. Not that she had to feel guilty. She knew dozens of defense lawyers who didn't feel a thing when they ripped someone apart on the stand. She had had an arguable right to pose her final question to Sales. Based on the theory of their defense, Sales was jealous of anyone who enjoyed his daughter's attentions. The possibility of his having a relationship that went beyond the normal paternal affections was a logical conclusion. That was how she had argued her position to Rawlins when he sternly ordered her to approach the bench for a conference. To ask such a question for the sole purpose of fostering the jury's prejudice toward the witness was unethical. But, based on her theory, Casey had a legitimate reason to ask it; therefore it was ethical.