"Fine. I'm going to let the jury go then. I need an hour to review the evidence, and then I'll make my ruling." With a nod, the judge dismisses the two lawyers, and begins the process of deciding Nina Frost's future.
Adrienne, it turns out, is a godsend. She gets Nathaniel out of my arms by making herself into a jungle gym when Caleb and I are wrung too dry to play. Nathaniel crawls over her back and then down the long slide of her shins. "If he's tiring you out," Caleb says, "just tell him to stop."
"Oh, honey, I've been waiting my whole life for this." She flips Nathaniel upside down, so that he giggles.
I am torn between watching them and joining in. My biggest fear is that if I let myself touch my son again, nothing they will do will be able to drag me away.
When there is a knock at the playroom door, we all turn. Patrick stands uncomfortably at the threshold.
I know what he wants, and I also know that he will not ask for it with my family here.
To my surprise, Caleb takes the decision out of everyone's hands. He nods toward Patrick, and then to me. "Go on," he says.
So Patrick and I find ourselves walking down twisted basement corridors, a foot of space separating us.
We travel so far in silence that I realize I have no idea where we now are. "How could you?" he finally bursts out.
"If you'd gone with another jury trial, at least, you'd have a shot at an acquittal."
"And I would have dragged Nathaniel and Caleb and you and everyone else along through it again.
Patrick, this has to stop. It has to be over. No matter what."
He stops walking, leans against a heating duct. "I never really thought you'd go to jail."
"There are a lot of places," I reply, "that I thought I'd never go." I smile faintly. "Will you bring me Chinese food every now and then?"
"No." Patrick looks down at the floor between his shoes. "I won't be here, Nina."
"You . . . what?"
"I'm moving. There are some job openings out in the Pacific Northwest I might take a look at." He takes a deep breath. "I always wanted to see what it was like out there. I just didn't want to do it without you."
"Patrick-"
With great tenderness, he kisses my forehead. "You will be fine," he murmurs. "You've done it before."
He offers me a crooked smile to slip into my breast pocket. And then he walks down the hall, leaving me to find my own way back.
The bathroom door at the base of the staircase flies open, and suddenly Quentin Brown is no more than four feet away from me. "Mrs. Frost," he sputters.
"After all this, I would think you could call me Nina." It is an ethical violation for him to speak to me without Fisher present, and we both know it. Yet somehow, bending that rule doesn't seem quite so horrific, after all this. When he doesn't respond, I realize he doesn't feel the same way and I try to step around him. "If you'll excuse me, my family's waiting in the playroom."
"I have to admit," Quentin says as I am walking away, "I was surprised by your decision."
I turn. "To let the judge rule?"
"Yes. I don't know if I'd do the same thing, if I were a defendant."
I shake my head. "Somehow, Quentin, I can't picture you as a defendant."
"Could you picture me as a parent?"
It surprises me. "No. I never heard that you had a family."
"A boy. Sixteen." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I know, I know. You've done such a good job imagining me as a ruthless villain that it's hard to give me a vein of compassion."
"Well." I shrug. "Maybe not a ruthless villain."
