Page 349 of Wicked Brutal

“Yes.”

“While screaming that you wanted him dead.”

“Yes.”

He pauses, like he thinks he’s finally cornered her. “Would you agree that you were hysterical?”

Ally looks at him for a long, level second. The whole room waits. “My father had just thrown my mother headfirst onto marble stairs.” Silence. “I think I was allowed to be upset.”

Dad coughs into his fist. Mom shoots him a look. Even Arthur has to drop his eyes to his notes for a second.

Roman’s attorney does not find it funny at all. “Your emotional state could have affected what you remember.”

“No.”

“You were screaming. Crying. You’d been injured. You were afraid for your brother. And pregnant.” He ticks them off like he’s building a wall. “Yet you’re asking this court to believe your memory of those few seconds is perfect.”

Ally straightens in the chair. “No.”

The attorney stops, because it wasn’t the answer he’d built the wall for.

“I don’t remember every second perfectly.” Her voice is quiet and completely steady. “I don’t remember exactly where everyone was standing. I don’t remember who said what first, or how long it took the agents to reach us. Those parts are a blur. I’ll tell you that honestly.”

She looks past him. At Roman. “But I remember my father grabbing my mother.” Roman’s face changes. “I remember her telling him no. I remember him putting both hands on her shoulders.” Her chin lifts, and her voice doesn’t shake, not anymore. “And I remember watching him throw her down those stairs.”

The attorney opens his mouth.

She isn’t finished. “I remember the sound her head made when it hit the marble.” God. “And I remember crawling through her blood to get to her.”

Nobody in the room moves. Nobody breathes.

“So no. I don’t remember every second perfectly.” Her eyes stay on her father, and she says the last of it like a verdict. “But I remember exactly who killed my mother.”

Roman looks away.

His attorney does not ask another question. “No further questions.”

Arthur stands for redirect. He doesn’t drag her back through any of it. He just cleans it up in four quiet strokes. “Alison. Did Ryan Harrington tell you what to say here today?”

“No.”

“Did Walter Harrington?”

“No.”

“Did I?”

“No.”

“Did anyone, anywhere, ask you to lie about your father?”

“No.”

Arthur nods. “Nothing further, Your Honor.”

The judge looks at Ally, and something in his face has gone gentle. “You may step down, Ms. O’Toole.”

Her legs shake when she stands. I’m moving before I’ve decided to.