"The child's been through so much-"
"Did you ever insert anything in his anus?"
"No!"
"Did you ever see anyone insert anything in his anus?"
The priest draws in his breath. "Absolutely not."
"Then why do you imagine Nathaniel would say what he did? Can you think of anything that might have made him think it happened, even though it didn't?" Patrick leans forward. "Maybe a time you were alone with him, something occurred between you two that might have put this idea into his head?"
"I was never alone with him. There were fourteen other children around."
Patrick rocks his chair back on its rear legs. "Did you know that I found a pair of Nathaniel's underwear behind the boiler of the custodial closet? The laboratory says there's semen on it."
Father Szyszynski's eyes widen. "Semen? Whose?"
"Was it yours, Father?" Patrick asks quietly.
"No."
A flat denial. Patrick has expected nothing less than this. "Well, I hope for your sake you're right, Father, because we're going to be able to tell from DNA testing on your blood whether that's true."
Szyszynski's face is pale and drawn; his hands are trembling. "I'd like to leave now."
Patrick shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Father," he says. "But I'm placing you under arrest."
Thomas LaCroix has never met Nina Frost, although he's heard about her. He remembers when she got a conviction for a rape that occurred in a bathtub, although all the evidence had been washed away. He has been a district attorney too long to doubt his own abilities-last year, he even locked away a priest in Portland for this same crime-but he also knows that these sorts of cases are extremely difficult to win.
However, he wants to put on a good act. It has nothing to do with Nina Frost or her son- he'd just like York County's prosecutors to know how they do things up in Portland.
She answers the phone on the first ring. "It's about time," she says, when he introduces himself. "I really need to discuss something with you."
"Absolutely. We can talk tomorrow at the courthouse, before the arraignment," Thomas begins. "I just wanted to call before-"
"Why did they pick you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"What makes you the best attorney Wally could find to prosecute?"
Thomas draws in his breath. "I've been in Portland for fifteen years. And I've tried a thousand cases like this."
"So you're just phoning in a performance, now."
"I didn't say that," Thomas insists, but he is thinking: She must be a wonder on cross-examination. "I understand that you're nervous about tomorrow, Nina. But the arraignment, well, you know exactly what it's going to entail. Let's just get through it, and then we can sit down and strategize about your son's case."
"Yes." Then, dryly: "Do you need directions?"
Another dig-this is her territory, her life; he is an outsider on both counts. "Look, I can imagine what you're going through. I have three children of my own."
"I used to think I could imagine it too. I thought that's what made me good at what I did. I was wrong on both counts."
She falls silent, all the fire having burned out of her. "Nina," Thomas vows, "I will do everything in my power to prosecute this case the way you would."
"No," she replies quietly. "Do it better."
"I didn't get a confession," Patrick admits, striding past Nina into her kitchen. He just wants his failure immediately set out there, like a carcass to be picked apart. There's nothing she can say to berate him he hasn't already said to himself.
