Edgerton inclined his head. “Could be.”

“In any of those alternative scenarios, is the mother of the infant causing it harm?”

“No, she is not.”

Ellie crossed to the jury box. “You mentioned that the cultures were contaminated?”

“Yes. The lapse of time between the birth and the recovery of the placental tissue made it a culture plate, picking up bacteria.”

“The fetal tissue was also contaminated?”

“That’s correct,” Dr. Edgerton said. “By diphtheroids.”

“On what did you base your identification of these . . . diphtheroids?” Ellie asked.

“Colony and Gram’s stain morphology of the placental and fetal cultures.”

“Did you do any biochemical studies to make sure they were diphtheroids?”

“No need to.” The doctor shrugged. “Do you reread your textbooks before every case, Ms. Hathaway? I’ve been doing this for fifteen years. Believe me, I know what diphtheroids look like.”

“You’re a hundred percent sure these were diphtheroids?” Ellie pressed.

“Yes, I am.”

Ellie smiled slightly. “You also mentioned that the placenta showed signs of acute chorioamnionitis. Isn’t it true that chorioamnionitis can lead a fetus to aspirate infected amniotic fluid, and thus develop intra-uterine pneumonia-which in turn leads to septicemia and death?”

“Very, very rarely.”

“But it does happen?”

The medical examiner sighed. “Yes, but it’s a real stretch. It’s far more realistic to point to the chorioamnionitis for premature delivery, rather than cause of death.”

“Yet by your own admission,” Ellie said, “the autopsy revealed evidence of early pneumonia.”

“That’s true, but not severe enough to lead to mortality.”

“According to the autopsy report, meconium was found in the air spaces in the lungs. Isn’t that a sign of fetal distress?”

“Yes, in that the fetal stool-the meconium-was passed into the amniotic fluid and breathed into the lungs. It’s very irritating and can compromise respiration.”

Ellie crossed toward the witness. “You’ve just given us two additional reasons that this infant might have suffered from respiratory distress: early pneumonia, as well as aspirating fetal stool.”

“Yes.”

“By your own testimony, asphyxia was the cause of death for this infant.”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t it true that pneumonia and meconium aspiration-both of which are due to natural causes-would have led to asphyxia?”

Dr. Edgerton seemed amused, as if he knew exactly what Ellie was trying to do. “Maybe, Ms. Hathaway. If the smothering didn’t do the job all by itself.”

Ellie had always found the concept of a vending machine that sold hot soup and coffee a little upsetting-how long did all that liquid sit around in its insides? How did it know to give you decaf, instead of chicken broth? She stood before one in the basement of the court, hands on hips, waiting for the small Styrofoam cup to shoot out, for the steam to curl and rise.

Nothing.

“Come on,” she muttered, kicking the bottom of the vending machine. She raised a fist and thumped it on the Plexiglas for good measure. “That was fifty cents,” she said, more loudly.

A voice behind her stopped her in mid-tirade. “Remind me to never owe you money,” Coop said, his hands cupping her shoulders, his lips falling on the violin curve of her neck.

“You’d think someone would keep these maintained,” Ellie huffed, turning her back on the machine. As if that was all it took, it began to splash out hot coffee without a cup, spraying her shoes and her ankles.

“Goddamn!” she yelped, jumping out of the way, then surveying the brown stains on her light hose. “Oh, great.”

Coop sat down on a metal bridge chair. “When I was a kid my grandma used to try to make accidents happen. Knock over bottles of milk on purpose, trip over her own feet, splash her blouse with water.”

Blotting at her ankles, Ellie said, “No wonder you went into mental health.”

“Makes perfect sense, actually, provided you’re superstitious. If she had something important to do, she wanted to get the mishap out of the way. Then she’d be free and clear for the rest of the day.”

“You do know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Are you so sure?” Coop crossed his legs. “Wouldn’t it be nice to know that now since this has happened, you can walk into that courtroom and do no wrong?”

Ellie sank down beside him and sighed. “Do you know that she’s shaking?” Folding the soiled napkin in half and then in half again, she set it down on the floor beside her chair. “I can feel her trembling next to me, like she’s a tuning fork.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie said. “I’m afraid that bringing it up might terrify her more.”

“Psychologically speaking-”

“But we’re not, Coop. We’re speaking legally. And the most important thing is to get her through this trial without her coming apart at the seams.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

“I haven’t done anything at all!”

“Ah, now I get it. If Katie’s this nervous just listening to testimony, what’s she going to be like when you get her up as a witness?” He rubbed Ellie’s back gently. “You must have faced skittish clients before.”

“Sure.”

“You-” Coop broke off as another attorney entered the room, nodded, and stuffed a set of quarters into the coffee vending machine. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s not toilet trained.”

Beside him, Ellie swallowed the bubble of a laugh. The attorney kicked the defective machine, cursed beneath his breath, and walked upstairs again. Ellie smiled up at Coop. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“How about this?” Coop asked, leaning forward to kiss her.

“You don’t want to kiss me.” Ellie held him at arm’s length. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

His eyes drifted shut. “I’m in a gambling mood.”

“Oh, there you are.”

At Leda’s voice, Ellie and Coop jerked away from each other. Standing on the staircase was Ellie’s aunt, with Katie in tow. “I told her you were coming right back,” Leda said, “but she wasn’t having any of it.”

Katie walked down the last few steps to stand in front of Ellie. “I need to go home now.”

“Soon, Katie. Just hang on a little longer.”

“We need to be back for the afternoon milking, and if we leave now, we’ll be able to do it. My Dat can’t manage with Levi alone.”

“We’re required to stay in court until it’s adjourned,” Ellie explained.

“Hey, Katie,” Coop interjected, “why don’t you and I go somewhere and talk for a few minutes?” He cast Ellie a sidelong glance, urging her to be compassionate.

Even at a distance, it was possible to see the tremors that ran through Katie. She ignored Coop, staring directly at Ellie instead. “Can’t you make court adjourn?”

“That’s up to the judge.” Ellie set her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I know this is hard for you, and I-where are you going?”

“To talk to the judge. To ask her to adjourn,” Katie said stubbornly. “I can’t miss my chores.”

“You can’t just go talk to the judge. It’s not done.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it.”

“Get the judge angry,” Ellie warned, “and you’ll be missing your chores forever.”

Katie rounded on her. “Then you ask.”

“This is a new one for me, counselor,” Judge Ledbetter said. She leaned over her desk, frowning. “You’re requesting that we wrap up early today so that your client can do her chores?”

Ellie straightened her spine, her expression impassive. “Actually, Your Honor, I’m requesting that we adjourn at three P.M. every day this trial goes on.” Gritting her teeth, she added, “Believe me, Judge. If this were not germane to my client’s way of life, I wouldn’t be suggesting it.”

“Court adjourns at four-thirty, Ms. Hathaway.”

“I’m aware of that. I explained as much to my client.”

“I’m just dying to know what she had to say.”

“That the cows wouldn’t wait till then.” Ellie risked a glance toward George, who was grinning like the cat who’d eaten the canary. And why shouldn’t he be? Ellie was doing a splendid job digging her own grave without a single syllable’s contribution from him. “At issue, Your Honor, is the fact that in addition to my client, one of the sequestered witnesses is also a hired hand on the Fisher farm. For both of them to miss the afternoon milking would put undue strain on the economic affairs of the family.”