Page 74 of Fifty-Fifty

The examiner had something in his hand now. It was in a plastic evidence bag.

He dropped it beside Sofia and said, ‘Did you put this knife though your father’s eyes?’

Tears formed and quickly ran down Sofia’s cheeks as she said, in a whisper, ‘No.’

‘Goddamn it,’ I said, ‘That’s low. Stop this test right now.’

Before Dreyer could interject, Sofia said, ‘No, it’s okay. I’m okay. Just keep going.’

I shook my head.

‘This is an ambush, Sofia. The results for this test are skewed. Your reaction to the murder weapon is natural and it’s going to be recorded as a blip in the data by Doctor Dickface here, who will say you lied in that answer,’ I said, gesturing at the examiner.

He turned around and said, ‘Just doing my job.’

‘If your job is to intimidate and frighten my client then you’re doing it just fine. Come on, this is a freak show.’

‘No, it’s okay. I’m telling them the truth,’ said Sofia.

Save for going over there and removing the pads and sensors from her skin, there was not much else I could do. I thought about it for a second. It was the right thing. I looked at the middle of the three screens in front of the examiner.

Displayed was a wave of crazy lines and then more rhythmic, smooth curls after

the wild scrawls. Those scrawls were the sensors going ape shit from Sofia’s reaction to the murder weapon.

This was not going well.

‘Ask her the last question again,’ I said.

‘Fair enough,’ said the examiner. ‘Did you put that knife in your father’s skull?’

‘No,’ said Sofia.

I looked at the screen. Smooth lines.

The truth.

A bucketful of relief hit me. It was like a warm wave, washing me clean. I had called this one correctly. Sofia was innocent. But the comfort of that knowledge didn’t last. As fast as that feeling had arrived, it quickly dissipated under an anvil of responsibility.

If I failed, this innocent, messed-up young woman would go to jail. And she’d tie a rope blanket around her neck first chance she got.

A murder trial with an innocent client is like saving someone who’s fallen over a cliff edge. You’ve got their hand. You’ve got to hang on. You’ve got to

haul them to safety. Their life is in your grasp. Your strength is all that separates them from a chasm.

Just a few more weeks. Then the trial.

While I was sure, Dreyer was the opposite. I’d bet he was expecting to put a little daylight between the defendants with his lie detector test. That had backfired for him. He chewed his nails, ignoring me. Watching the examiner’s screen. He sighed, got up and said, ‘Be ready for trial. I’m pulling no punches, Eddie.’

‘Bring it on,’ I said.

The inspection of the murder scene that night had been pointless. I got nothing other than a better understanding of the layout of the mansion. In the car, on the way back to my office, Harper and Harry confirmed they’d also got very little from the inspection. Nothing the cops overlooked. We’d taken photos, but there

didn’t seem to be much point. The DA would use their official photographer with the body in situ to show the jury. Our photos didn’t have any evidential value.

Still, I might go over them again. See if it shook something loose, but I doubted it.

Two hours after I got back to the office, Harper and Harry having already left, I got the email with the DA’s videos of our inspection. I checked Kate’s video, and didn’t seem to think they had had any eureka revelations from their inspection either – or if they did, they’d hidden their reactions well.