“Is that a yes?” Reid asked.
“Uh, yes.” The professorial authority had gone from his voice.
“So why do you have Beth’s name at the top of that list?”
“No reason.”
“Those others are the names of the women you were convicted of sexually assaulting, right? Judith Lane, Alissa Fratelli, Gennifer Mornay ...”
“It’s a coincidence,” he said.
“So, you sexually assaulted every woman on that list except Beth Lathrop?”
Harris nodded, looking miserable.
“We’ll come back to that in a minute,” Reid said. “I see that you’ve put these two men’s names at the top, and you’ve written them in bolder ink. Like you must have really pressed down, to make the names nice and strong. Read me the names, will you?”
Harris coughed. He looked away, then back at the postcard. “Martin and Pete,” he said finally.
“Martin and Pete,” Reid said. “Martin ... that’s you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what about Pete? Who’s he?”
“I guess it’s Pete Lathrop.”
“You guess? Or you know? Considering you wrote it.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s Pete Lathrop.”
“But I thought you said you don’t know him,” Reid said, watching for even a blink that might give him away.
“That’s true. I don’t.”
“Never met him?”
Harris shook his head.
“So what is Pete Lathrop’s name doing on this list you made of the women you assaulted?”
“Except Beth,” Harris interjected. “I did not assault her. We need to be clear on that.”
“Well, let’s say we are. Still, what is Pete’s name doing here?”
Martin Harris glanced at his lawyer. A little color had returned to his face, two pink patches on his round cheeks. His eyes were full of anxiety.
“I advise you not to answer,” Lewiston said.
“But otherwise he’ll think ... ,” Harris whispered. “And it will be worse.”
Lewiston shrugged. “I’ve given you my advice.”
Harris seemed to make up his mind. He sat taller, folded his hands on the table in front of him.
“I wanted to help you solve the crime,” he said, staring into Reid’s eyes.
Reid tried not to show his disbelief.
