The Murder Rule(5)

“You’d be starting at the bottom,” he said. “I appreciate that you have some experience, but there are other students who were with us last year. They know our cases, and we’ve had an opportunity to supervise them directly.”

“I’m happy to do whatever is needed.” It was a start. She was in.

Hannah felt a nauseating lurch of relief.

Parekh stood. “Tomorrow is the first day back. Be here at nine A.M. We’l get you started.” It was clearly a dismissal. Hannah hesitated. Should she offer a handshake? No. That would be awkward. Trying too hard. “Thank you,” she said, as she stood and picked up her bag. “I’m excited to begin.”

Parekh didn’t smile and there was no sign of his earlier amusement when he replied. “It’s a big commitment. Our students are expected to work a minimum of fifteen hours per week, and frankly there are times where the workload is far in excess of that.

When you’re a little more settled, and assuming things work out, you’l be assigned to work with a group of three or four other students on a case. You’l find that most of our best students routinely work much longer hours. It’s difficult to set limits when you’re working to prove someone’s innocence. In some cases, to save a life.”

“Of course.” Hannah nodded energetical y, hoping that she was coming across as enthusiastic and not sycophantic. Parekh was very difficult to read. His tone was so dry. But what he had said was true; the Project did save lives. The debate, of course, was whether al of those lives deserved to be saved.

“Do you have a car?” Parekh asked, walking her to the door. “It can be useful, if you’re independent, for research and interviews.”

“Yes,” Hannah didn’t hesitate to lie. “I have a car.” After everything else, getting a car would be easy.

“Excel ent,” said Parekh. “I’l look forward to seeing you tomorrow then.”

Hannah found her way out through the maze-like layout of the administration building. She walked outside, looked around until she found a quiet place, a bench set in trees to the side of the pretty lawn at the front of the building, then took out her phone and cal ed her mother. Laura answered immediately.

“Are you al right?”

“You got my note?”

“I can’t believe you’re in Virginia. The whole idea is crazy. You should come home—”

Hannah cut across her mother. “Let’s not do this. Please. You have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Hannah sighed. “You know I had no choice, Mom.” Her voice was as gentle as she could make it. “I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

That just . . . it wasn’t an option.”

Stil silence.

“Mom?”

“I wish you’d never found my diary. If I’d known it would lead to this, I would never have written it. Or I’d have burned it before you read it.”

“You would have had to tel me the truth eventual y,” Hannah said.

“Never. I never would have,” Laura said. “Some things are better left in the past.” Her voice was tight with anxiety. But she was sober.

She hadn’t been drinking. Hannah could always tel . Did she know yet that Hannah had found her stash? Maybe. It didn’t necessarily mean anything that she hadn’t mentioned it yet. Sometimes she held things back, let things build.

“I met the lawyer, Mom. I met Robert Parekh.”

“You did?”

“I’m in. At least, I’m not on the case, not yet, but I have a trial with the Project, at least. It’s a start.”

“There isn’t much time.”

“I know.”

There was another silence. Then Laura said, “I’m proud of you. I wish you weren’t there. I think this is a bad idea. But you’re very brave, Hannah. I wish I had your confidence.”

Relief made Hannah babble. “If you need help, don’t forget Jan is going to cal in three times a week. She’l help with shopping, with cooking and cleaning. Whatever you need. And she’l take you to your meetings. And you can cal me, any time you need to talk.

You’re going to be okay. I promise. We’l get through this.”

After the cal Hannah walked back to the apartment. The conversation could have gone much worse. She shifted the weight of her bag on her shoulder, resisting the urge to check again that the diary was safely inside. She knew it was there. She never left it behind. Of course, she should never have read it in the first place, that went without saying. But Hannah had been fourteen years old and in the teary, sorry-for-herself aftermath of a fight with Laura when she’d come across the notebook, and therefore not very inclined to respect boundaries. And, of course, the fact that the diary was Laura’s old journal, written when she wasn’t much older than fourteen-year-old Hannah, had made it al the more fascinating.

Hannah had read that notebook cover to cover and then a second time, then a third. She’d read it at least ten times before she confessed her sin to her mother. Laura had been much more forgiving than she’d expected or deserved.

It was too late now for any regrets, and Hannah felt none. The diary had brought them closer together at a difficult time, bonded them forever in understanding. Because of the diary, Hannah knew exactly what had happened to Laura, and she knew exactly who was to blame.