constraints.”
“I could take a personal day off.” She was treading in dangerous territory. If Winston found out… But she was entitled to a day off once in a blue moon, right?
T HE UPCOMING VISIT to Christopher Gables became the focus of the evening. Though the work was somber in nature, Daniel actually enjoyed using his wits and collaborating with someone as bright as Jamie.
She’d brought a transcript with her of Christopher’s original interrogation, which she’d already read and highlighted—she must have stayed up all night doing it. They picked apart various statements he’d made, making lists of follow-up questions and clarifications they wanted.
Sometimes, though, Daniel found his focus drifting to Jamie’s hair, and how it fell across her cheek every time she looked down to read something. She would impatiently shove it behind her ear, only to have it fall again within a few minutes.
He could smell her, too.
In prison, he used to dream about the way women smelled. Whether it was baby powder, expensive perfume or flour and sugar and yeast, women smelled like nothing else in the world, and he’d sorely missed that olfactory stimulation when he’d been locked up.
Then, one day, he couldn’t call it up in his imagination. Couldn’t fantasize about it as he lay in his bunk. And he’d felt a panic all out of proportion. His memories, his imagination, those were all he’d had in prison to comfort him. He’d been afraid of losing his ability to think at all. Afraid of going stark-raving mad.
Was it Jamie’s skin that smelled like vanilla? Her hair? Did he detect a faint scent of lipstick?
Would she taste as good as she smelled?
“So here, he says he noticed the time he got home,” Jamie was saying, and Daniel snapped his attention back to her words. “Yet fifteen minutes later, he says he didn’t look at the clock and didn’t wear a watch. Why the discrepancy?”
“Could be a number of things. He might have turned on the TV and noticed a particular show was starting. He might have noticed the time on his car clock right before coming in. He might have seen the time on a VCR or a coffeemaker or a microwave or even his cell phone. He might have seen how high the moon was—it was a full moon that night.”
Jamie made notes. “I want to ask him.”
“We’ll have limited time. Are you sure it’s relevant?”
“It’s relevant because I can catch him lying.”
They already knew Christopher was apt to make stuff up. Even if they did catch him in a lie, it wouldn’t necessarily speak to his guilt or innocence. But Daniel didn’t argue. He had Jamie on his side—sort of—and he didn’t want to blow it.
“We have a psychologist on call—Claudia Ellison. Have you heard of her?”
“Sure. She testifies as an expert witness all the time.”
“She’s an expert on body language. She has watched video of Christopher Gables and feels certain he’s telling the truth—about the important stuff.”
“I disagree. I remember thinking, when I watched the interrogation, that he was lying.”
“But you had a vested interest in his guilt.”
“Which is why I want to ask him certain questions.”
“With an open mind?”
“Yes, Daniel.”
He sighed. “It’s after seven. Claude will have dinner on the table. Let’s take a break.”
“Okay.” She picked up a stack of papers. “I can read you this part of the transcript—”
He touched her hand and his awareness went off like a firecracker.
“We need to give our minds a break, too. If we come back fresh after dinner, we’ll get more done.”
“But—”
“Trust me on this. I’ve studied the research. Working harder doesn’t necessarily mean working smarter.”
She laughed. He loved the sound of her laughter, so rare and unexpected. “You sound like one of those inspirational speakers they bring in to professional development seminars.”
“Busted. Once upon a time, I attended those types of seminars on a
“I could take a personal day off.” She was treading in dangerous territory. If Winston found out… But she was entitled to a day off once in a blue moon, right?
T HE UPCOMING VISIT to Christopher Gables became the focus of the evening. Though the work was somber in nature, Daniel actually enjoyed using his wits and collaborating with someone as bright as Jamie.
She’d brought a transcript with her of Christopher’s original interrogation, which she’d already read and highlighted—she must have stayed up all night doing it. They picked apart various statements he’d made, making lists of follow-up questions and clarifications they wanted.
Sometimes, though, Daniel found his focus drifting to Jamie’s hair, and how it fell across her cheek every time she looked down to read something. She would impatiently shove it behind her ear, only to have it fall again within a few minutes.
He could smell her, too.
In prison, he used to dream about the way women smelled. Whether it was baby powder, expensive perfume or flour and sugar and yeast, women smelled like nothing else in the world, and he’d sorely missed that olfactory stimulation when he’d been locked up.
Then, one day, he couldn’t call it up in his imagination. Couldn’t fantasize about it as he lay in his bunk. And he’d felt a panic all out of proportion. His memories, his imagination, those were all he’d had in prison to comfort him. He’d been afraid of losing his ability to think at all. Afraid of going stark-raving mad.
Was it Jamie’s skin that smelled like vanilla? Her hair? Did he detect a faint scent of lipstick?
Would she taste as good as she smelled?
“So here, he says he noticed the time he got home,” Jamie was saying, and Daniel snapped his attention back to her words. “Yet fifteen minutes later, he says he didn’t look at the clock and didn’t wear a watch. Why the discrepancy?”
“Could be a number of things. He might have turned on the TV and noticed a particular show was starting. He might have noticed the time on his car clock right before coming in. He might have seen the time on a VCR or a coffeemaker or a microwave or even his cell phone. He might have seen how high the moon was—it was a full moon that night.”
Jamie made notes. “I want to ask him.”
“We’ll have limited time. Are you sure it’s relevant?”
“It’s relevant because I can catch him lying.”
They already knew Christopher was apt to make stuff up. Even if they did catch him in a lie, it wouldn’t necessarily speak to his guilt or innocence. But Daniel didn’t argue. He had Jamie on his side—sort of—and he didn’t want to blow it.
“We have a psychologist on call—Claudia Ellison. Have you heard of her?”
“Sure. She testifies as an expert witness all the time.”
“She’s an expert on body language. She has watched video of Christopher Gables and feels certain he’s telling the truth—about the important stuff.”
“I disagree. I remember thinking, when I watched the interrogation, that he was lying.”
“But you had a vested interest in his guilt.”
“Which is why I want to ask him certain questions.”
“With an open mind?”
“Yes, Daniel.”
He sighed. “It’s after seven. Claude will have dinner on the table. Let’s take a break.”
“Okay.” She picked up a stack of papers. “I can read you this part of the transcript—”
He touched her hand and his awareness went off like a firecracker.
“We need to give our minds a break, too. If we come back fresh after dinner, we’ll get more done.”
“But—”
“Trust me on this. I’ve studied the research. Working harder doesn’t necessarily mean working smarter.”
She laughed. He loved the sound of her laughter, so rare and unexpected. “You sound like one of those inspirational speakers they bring in to professional development seminars.”
“Busted. Once upon a time, I attended those types of seminars on a