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?"

The conference room at Freeman, Farrell, Hardy & Roake was a large oval with floor-to-ceiling windows and a set of glass double-doors looking out on a small, grassy roof garden and similar large windows facing the main lobby. The idea had looked terrific in the architectural plans, and even when the remodel had been completed. But in practice it soon became obvious that the place was a fishbowl. Everybody walking by could clearly see who was inside and often exactly what was going on in there around the huge circular table. In the land of attorney-client privilege and secret negotiations, this did not turn out to be a plus for the business.

To rectify the situation, David Freeman had ordered several large potted trees to be delivered-dieffenbachia, palms, some citrus-to partially block the view, or at least mitigate the lack of privacy. Over the years, more greenery had been added-giant ferns, rubber trees, a California redwood that now scraped the thirty-foot ceiling. Bringing potted flora to the office became an unspoken trophy moment for Freeman and his associates after a win in a big case, and the room came to be known as the Solarium.

And here, today, technically a few minutes after the close of business, Gina had her discovery folders and yellow legal pads spread out on the table in front of her. She turned at the knock on the side panel of the door.

"Hey, Wes. Come on in."

"Don't let me bother you," he said. "Gert and I are just passing through."

She nodded absently as her partner-his T-shirt today read take the message on your bumper-and stick it!-led his Labrador back behind Gina, through the room and out onto the grassy lawn where they'd put in the memorial bench for David. In another minute, the outside door opened again and they were back inside. "Poor girl," Wes said, "I thought she was going to die if she didn't get outside to pee. But there's no way I bring her down here before Phyllis leaves. I don't see her as a dog person, do you?"

Gina straightened up in her chair. Her shoulders rose and fell. "Wes…" She motioned to the many piles of paper surrounding her.

"You're busy, I'm sorry."

"The hearing's tomorrow."

"Gorman?"

"That's the one."

"Is it as bad as the papers make it look?" "Close, but Wes-"

He held up a hand. "Got it. You're working. I'm out of here. Come on, Gert. Gina still likes you. I'm sure she notices that you're not even on a leash. She's just busy."

Gina looked over, shaking her head wearily, but unable to suppress a small smile. "Sorry, Gert," she said. "Good dog. Very impressive."

"What's impressive?" Dismas Hardy suddenly appeared behind Wes and Gert.

Gina finally put her pen down, pushed her legal pad a few inches away. "What's impressive is how anybody gets any work done around here." She turned to face her two partners. "Guys. Hearing tomorrow. I'm a little overwhelmed."

"Gorman," Farrell said to Hardy.

"I guessed," Hardy said, then turned to Gina. "He pay you yet?" Since he'd become managing partner of the firm, he kept a pretty firm eye on the bottom line.

"He's had a little trouble getting to the bank," Gina said. "In fact, he's had a pretty tough couple of weeks in general. Maybe you've read something about it in the papers."

Hardy broke a grin. "That would be no, then?" A little more serious now. "So bring him a blank check in jail."

"I'm not worried about getting paid, Diz. He's good for it."

"Not if he did it," Farrell said. "Gert, sit! Anyway, Gina, you kill your wife, you don't get to collect the insurance on her. It's one of those dumb rules."

"Yeah, well, he didn't kill his wife, so it won't be a problem."

"Uh-oh," Farrell said.

Gina sat back in her chair. "Just because you believed a guilty client who lied to you, Wes. That doesn't make it a general rule of the universe. Innocent people get arrested and go to trial and get acquitted."

"Right," Farrell said. "All the time. When was the last one exactly, though? I forget. Was that Scott Peterson? Oh no, that's right. He was guilty."

"I believe Mr. Hardy here has seen a few innocent clients, if I'm not mistaken."

"Well, he got some of them off, anyway."

"Hey!" Hardy struck as quick as a snake, punching Farrell's shoulder. "They were innocent, that's why."