The Murder Rule(20)

We’re coming from behind here.”

Parekh stood up. “Here’s what I have to say about that. I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone’s motivation but ours. And here’s our motivation. It’s pretty simple, as mission statements go—we’re in it to win it. We are not going to lose this case. Does everyone understand that? I don’t care if they’ve got us on the back foot. I don’t care that we have no resources, no investigators, and no money. We’re stil ahead in this game. Would you like to know why?” He held up a hand, started to count down on his fingers. “Because they’re ful of shit. They hid evidence. They beat our client up to get a confession.

There’s one eyewitness statement from a child who was too young to know better. That’s it. That’s what they have. I know with the talent in this room, we are more than good enough to tear this case apart.

So let’s get to it.”





LAURA

DIARY ENTRY #3

Saturday, July 30, 1994, 8:30 a.m.

When I started high school, I was kind of young for my age. I wasn’t real y ready for dating. Guys asked me out and I said yes because I didn’t want to seem like a loser, but I honestly hated making out.

Everything always got hot and heavy way too fast. Like, dating = a burger and a milkshake + awkward conversation + sloppy making out + a sweaty hand burrowing under my bra. Excuse me for not swooning. I say that now, but at the time I was convinced I was frigid and I was TERRIFIED that anyone would find out so I always acted like I was into it. Which was surprisingly easy to pul off. Why is it that guys always believe you when you act like you’re into them, and never believe you when you say you aren’t?

Whatever. Al that was history when I made out with Vinny Thomas in my junior year. Vinny was unbelievably hot (Luke Perry in 90210 except with darker eyes) and he was way out of my league, but we made out at a party once. That’s when I figured out that I wasn’t frigid at al . But I’ve never real y had a serious boyfriend. Life got pretty messed up after mom died. I didn’t think about dating or anything like that for a long time. And now that I’m not in school it’s harder to meet someone. When I’m in Boston I feel like I’m the odd one out, like al Jenna’s friends are going somewhere and I’m just this loser girl she’s kind to. Mostly, these days, I don’t date at al and I’m cool with that. I mean, I’m real y lonely sometimes, but I don’t think dating’s any solution to that. With Tom, it’s been pretty clear from the beginning that he wants a friend, not a girlfriend. I get zero romantic vibes from him. He just seems to like me, like spending time with me. Honestly? I think maybe he has a girlfriend in Virginia, or something. Or maybe (shock of al shocks) I’m just not his type.

The second time we hung out we went for a swim and afterward we went for dinner in Seal Harbor. I say dinner—we bought a pizza and a couple of beers and sat by the water and talked. I asked him about Mike, where he was, what he was up to.

“Stil sailing,” Tom said. He picked chorizo off the last slice of pizza and ate it.

“Again?”

“He’s gone for a few days. Taken the boat three hours north to a place cal ed Blacks Harbour, over the border in Canada. He has some friends there.”

“You don’t mind?” I was thinking about how much the yacht was worth—probably a lot. “It’s safe for him to go by himself?”

Tom made a face and said something about the boat being state of the art, and safe to take out alone for a few hours. And then he said that it was probably a good thing for them to have a break from each other. So I asked if they weren’t getting along, but he shrugged it off.

I couldn’t tel if he real y thought everything was fine between them or if he didn’t want to talk about it with me. I kind of wanted to bring up the cocaine and the gun—I stil do—but I’m afraid he’l think I’ve been snooping. I’ve probably waited too long. Anyway, Tom changed the subject pretty quickly after that. We stayed late at Seal Harbor, drinking beer and watching the sun go down and talking. I told him a lot about myself. More than I’ve told anyone but Jenna. I don’t usual y talk about that stuff, but he was so honest with me about his own family that I felt guilty holding back. And I miss Jenna a lot. So I told him a little, then a bit more, and before I knew it I had told him almost everything. And he was great about it al .

Understanding without being too sympathetic. He’s a good listener.

He’s a good friend.

Mike was gone for almost a week and Tom and I have fal en into a routine. Every day after I finish work he picks me up, we swim or hike or just hang out. And it’s been real y nice. Mike’s back now, of course. At first he was actual y okay to be around—smiling and joking al the time—but it didn’t last. He started dropping hints about how they should head back to Virginia early, get ready for school, and when Tom didn’t jump at the idea right away, nice Mike disappeared. For the last couple of days he’s been smiling on the surface but tense and angry underneath. I’ve tried to bring it up with Tom, but he thinks I’m reading too much into things. We’ve stopped hanging out at the house as much though. We just go hiking instead.

I think we’ve done every trail in Acadia at least once. Anyway, tonight I complained about my sore legs and Tom said we should go sailing tomorrow instead. !! I’m kind of excited. I’ve swapped my shift with Liza. We’re going to pick up some food and go out on the boat for the whole day. Slightly nervous . . . am I going to get seasick?? That would be embarrassing.