Lisa Scottoline - Moment Of Truth

'It has to be an abortion,' Mary said, after a minute. As much as she disliked Paige, she couldn't help sympathizing with her predicament. 'Abortions are what they do, mainly. That's why they get picketed all the time.'

Judy nodded. 'I used to get diaphragm cream there, but I'm the only person cheap enough to do that. You're right, Mare. I think she's getting an abortion, too.'

Think she got one right then?' Mary walked to the credenza, where she poured a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee and powdered it with fake sugar and fake milk. She took a sip but it didn't thaw her nose. Italian noses took longer. 'It could be, with the disguise and all.'

'No way,' Judy said. 'She just had sex, remember? Who gets a pelvic after that, much less an abortion?'

Lou didn't want to hear this. Pelvics. Diaphragm cream. Breast exams. If it kept up, he could turn gay. Where was the beer?

Mary sipped her coffee. 'So she's talking to a counselor. That makes sense. She's got no friends, her mother's dead, and her father's in jail. She needs someone to talk to. Since Trevor wasn't with her at the clinic, it sounds like she's not talking to him about it.'

Lou stretched his legs, then crossed them. 'I don't think he knows. I don't think a guy who knows his girl is pregnant does what they were doing in the coatroom, and they weren't talkin' babies at lunch.' He sighed. 'I feel bad for the girl, I do. Pretty girl like that, everything going for her. She's on her own and I think it's a crying shame.'

Mary felt worse for Paige's father. 'If Jack knows his daughter is pregnant, that gives him a stronger reason to protect her. He has to protect her and the baby. In fact, we're missing something here. At her age, doesn't she need parental consent for a abortion?'

Judy frowned. 'Of course, you're right. Seventeen or younger, in this state. But if Newlin knew Paige was pregnant, he wouldn't let her abort at a clinic. If he's such a great father, he'd get her to the best doctor in the city.'

'What if he knows about the pregnancy, but not the abortion?' Mary asked, thinking aloud. 'That could be, especially if she's getting counseling about it. She wouldn't need the consent for that, not yet. If Jack knows only that she's pregnant, he'd take the rap for her.'

Lou was shaking his head. 'You never asked me, but I wouldn't take a murder rap for my kid. I'd want her to accept the consequences of her actions. How's she gonna learn anything otherwise? How's she gonna become an adult?'

Mary was again surprised. It was two to one. 'What if you felt responsible for it? If you had let the mother abuse the kid over time. Not physically, but emotionally.'

Lou puckered his lip. 'Sorry, Mare. If she picks up the knife, she's responsible. She should do the time, even though she's my kid.'

'My father would do it, and I think Jack would, too.'

Judy's expression was tense. 'Mary, isn't it possible that you've got Newlin on a pedestal? You don't know him that well and you're projecting all sorts of qualities onto him. He's not your father.'

'I know that,' Mary snapped, her face suddenly hot. This case was straining their friendship. 'Jack is innocent, and I'm not going to see him convicted for a crime he didn't commit. We're close to something and we have to get to the bottom of it.'

'But Bennie's been calling us.' Judy gestured to a stack of yellow slips. 'She may be out of the country, but they have phones. Do I have to tell you what she'd say about this? Working against our own client's instructions, to prove his innocence? Allegedly?'

'I don't care.' Mary heard her voice waver and knew her emotion came only partly from the injustice of the situation. 'We have momentum now. We're making progress.'

Lou looked doubtful. 'I wouldn't say that. All we're doin' is messin' around in people's private lives.' He looked at Mary. 'I think you should think about withdrawin' from this case, Mare. It's out of control, and Rosato pays the bills around here.'

'We can't file withdrawal papers today anyway. Court closed a long time ago.' Mary checked her watch. Seven o'clock. 'Hey, it's about the time the murder was committed. It's the best time to visit a crime scene.'

The crime scene? You hate crime scenes!' Judy said, but Mary grabbed her coat and bag.

'That was the old me. The new me loves crime scenes.' She slipped back into her coat, which still felt cold, and looked at Judy with hope. Their eyes locked, and Judy surrendered first in their game of emotional chicken.

'Tell you what, Mare,' she said. I'll go with you on

this, but just for tonight. If we find nothing, we're out. We withdraw tomorrow and refer the case.'

Mary considered it, then nodded. 'Deal. Let's go. If I have one night, I'm using it.'

Lou didn't budge. 'Hold on there, ladies. What about Bennie?'

Mary headed for the conference room door. 'You don't have to come, Lou. We'll understand. Won't we, Jude?'

'Of course.' Judy got her puffy white coat from a chair. 'Stay here. Show common sense, unlike me. I could get fired twice by the same person.' Judy looked at Mary. 'One thing. We have to go home and walk Bear. Remember, I'm dog-sitting.'

'Bennie's dog?' Mary headed for the conference room door. 'Okay. She might not fire us if we show the dog a good time.'

Judy snorted. 'Oh she'll fire us, all right. She just won't kill us.'

'Sure she will,' Lou said, and reached for his windbreaker.

It had taken all day for Jack to be transferred and processed into county jail with a busload of other inmates; he'd been showered, shaved, sprayed prophylactically with lice treatment, and issued laundered and steam-pressed blues. By nightfall he found himself in a plastic bucket chair against the back wall of the TV room of Housing Unit C. A caged television blared from its wall mount in the corner and thirty-odd inmates ignored Access Hollywood, clogging a space that was smaller than most living rooms. The room was in constant motion, the noise deafening, and the air rank with body odor.

The inmates were large, muscular, pockmarked, and pierced. They had long hair, dreads, and Willie Nelson braids; one bald inmate had tattooed his skull with bright flames. Another huge inmate, a wiry blond ponytail snaking down his broad back, looked like a deranged Norse god. Jack didn't break eye contact when it was made by the inmates or the guards. He knew he was a novelty here; his photo was splashed across the tabloid on the bolted-down table, and the inmate who had piled mashed potatoes on his dinner plate that night had stopped serving to shake his hand.

'Why?' Jack had asked, astonished.

'I never met no millionaire before,' the inmate had answered.

He had been thwarted in reaching Trevor. There was an 'approved list' for calls from county jail, which contained only the inmate's attorney and one contact in the immediate family. He mulled over calling Mary and coming clean with his doubts about Trevor, but he couldn't sacrifice Paige. A commercial for Listerine came on TV, and in

time Jack realized that his thoughts had stopped with Mary, which both worried and comforted him. At the same time.

THE DEVIL'S INN, read the boxy white sign. It was illuminated from within and lightweight enough to be blown around by the wind, which set its old-fashioned drawing of the devil, wiry and red with a spiked tail and trident, whipping back and forth. The Devil's Inn was like every other run-down tavern that dotted Philadelphia's street corners, concentrated in the working-class residential neighborhoods, and Brinkley had been a cop long enough to disapprove not only of the bars but of the liquor billboards that popped up around them like mushrooms. That he disapproved didn't stop him from hanging in the Devil's Inn, sipping the whiskey they advertised on every block.