The Sign of the Book by John Dunning Page A

him.”
    She nodded warily. “What else is there?”
    â€œWas there something remotely like a reason? How’d your dress get torn?”
    â€œIt was a private matter between us.”
    Parley rolled his eyes back and closed them.
    â€œThat won’t make any difference anyway,” she said. “What happened is what’s important, not why it happened.”
    â€œIs that what you think? Well, missy, where’s your law degree?”
    I saw two things in her face: a flash of anger and an immediate look of regret. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I’m making it harder for you.”
    â€œIt can’t get too much harder than impossible. You’d better come to realize a few things, and right now’s not a minute too soon. You’re in a bad spot.”
    â€œI know that. I know it. What would happen if I just plead guilty and throw myself on the mercy of the court?”
    â€œYou could do that. Without any mitigating circumstances, and based on what I know of this judge here, you might get out in time to see your great-grandchildren graduate from college. That’s if you get out at all, and if he doesn’t fit you for a hot seat at Cañon City.”
    â€œThey won’t execute me.”
    â€œProbably not. This state doesn’t have any stomach for its own death penalty statute. The point is, they could; that old man downstairs could put you on death row, where you might sit for years before some other old man commuted it to life. Or he could give you life without possibility of parole right out of the gate. Do you know how difficult it can be to even get something like that reconsidered, let alone overturned? Whatever your reason is for not talking about it now, that’ll look pale as the years pass. You can trust me on this, Laura, if you don’t believe anything else I tell you: the day will come when you’ll wish to God you had listened to good advice when you heard it. Then it’ll be too late. The very best you can expect to do is twenty years of damned hard time. That’s what I want you to think about.”
    â€œWhat do you think I’ve been doing? If there was anything I could tell you…”
    â€œYou can start by telling me why you shot him. And don’t keep saying it’s a private matter. When you shoot somebody dead, there’s nothing private about it anymore.”
    â€œWhat difference does it make if you can’t use it anyway?”
    â€œIs that what you’re saying? There may be mitigating circumstances but you won’t let me use them even if I know what they are. Is that what you’re telling me?”
    â€œI didn’t say there were mitigating circumstances, you did. That’s different from the reason why, isn’t it?”
    â€œDon’t do this to yourself, Laura. Don’t play games with your lawyer.”
    â€œI just can’t get into it,” she said, and the room passed into a long, deadly silence.
    â€œLet’s try it once more,” Parley said. “Look in my face here, not at the floor. I’m your lawyer. That means you can talk to me and nothing you say will ever get out of this room without your permission. If you’ve got second thoughts about having another party present, Mr. Janeway will leave us in private. This will stay between us. But you’ve got to tell me what happened.”
    â€œI just can’t get into it. How many times have I got to say that?”
    â€œGoddammit, you are into it, you’re up to your pretty neck into it. Don’t look down, look at me and tell me who you’re protecting.”
    â€œNo one. No one! Why would you even ask that? I told you I did it.”
    â€œI don’t believe you. I think you’re protecting somebody. Who could that be, Laura? Was it one of the kids?”
    Her eyes opened wide. “Don’t say that! Don’t even think that!”
    She looked at me and