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“Nothing.”
“Why would she lie if she doesn’t have something to hide?”
Feeling cavalier and ornery, Hammond said, “Maybe she had a secret rendezvous that night, and she’s lying to protect the man she was with.”
“Maybe. In any event she’s lied, and Smilow is right on top of it. I know you don’t like him, but you’ve got to admit that he’s an excellent detective.”
“I can’t argue that.”
“He’s got a law degree, you know.”
Hammond recognized that as one of those statements that his father threw out like a quick jab to the face. It was intended to distract you from the right uppercut that was coming.
“I hope he never decides to move from the police department over to the solicitor’s office. You might find yourself out of a job, son.”
Hammond ground his teeth to keep from saying the two words that flashed through his mind.
“I told your mother—”
“You discussed the case with Mom?”
“Why not?”
“Because… because it’s unfair.”
“To whom?”
“To everybody concerned. The police, my office, the suspect. What if this woman is innocent, Dad? Her reputation will have been trampled for nothing.”
“Why are you so upset, Hammond?”
“I hope Mom doesn’t regale her bridge club with all the juicy details of the case.”
“You’re overreacting.”
Maybe he was, but the longer this telephone conversation got, the more it was pissing him off. Mostly because he didn’t want his father monitoring him through every step of this case. A murder trial of this magnitude consumed a lawyer’s life. Hours stretched into days, and days into weeks, sometimes months. He could handle it. He would relish handling it. But he wouldn’t welcome being critiqued at the end of each day. That could become demoralizing and cause him to start second-guessing every strategy.
“Dad, I know what I’m doing.”
“No one ever questioned—”
“Bullshit. You bring my ability into question every time you consult with Mason and ask him for a report. If he weren’t pleased with the work I’ve done, he wouldn’t have assigned me to this case. He certainly wouldn’t be touting me as his successor.”
“Everything you’ve said is true,” Preston said with maddening control. “All the more reason for me to be worried that you’ll blow it.”
“Why would you think I might blow it?”
“I understand the suspect is a beautiful woman.”
Hammond hadn’t seen that one coming. If it had been an actual uppercut, it would have been a knockout and he would be on the mat. He reeled from the impact. One hundred percent of the time, his father seemed to know where to strike him where he would feel it the most.
“That’s the most insulting thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Listen, Hammond, I’m—”
“No, you listen. I will do my job. If this case warrants the death penalty, that’s what I’ll ask for.”
“Will you?”
