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you. Not for a second."
"You're imagining things."
"How many cases we worked together?"
"Twenty-six. At least that's the number you brought up at our last
shareholder's meeting."
"How many times you kicked me to the curb?"
"None, but "
"My point's made." Fran leaned back in her chair and clasped
her hands behind her head.
"This case is different."
"This case is different."
"How so?"
"I told you. The client requested it."
Fran shot forward and almost fell onto her desk. "Look me in the
eye, straight on. Left eye, not the wandering one. There you go.
Now tell me what you feel for this Alex Madigen."
I didn't hesitate. "Sympathy."
"Nothing more?"
"Of course not. Did it ever occur to you that I might be playing
her?"
"Destiny know about this?"
"This is business!" I said between clenched teeth. "I've seen
Destiny turn it on to get a donation."
"Betcha she never played footsie with a brain-injured woman to
win her over."
"Alex doesn't trust anyone and probably never has. To earn her
trust, I'm letting her be herself, whoever that self is. Maybe you
should have tried the same."
Fran shrugged. "Not my fault she didn't like what I had to say."
"It was your delivery!"
"Too technical?"
I let out a grunt. "When you started covering the time-distance
studies, you lost me."
"A woman crosses her legs, aims the big toe at someone, dead
giveaway of interest. Her gam was locked on you like a rifle.
Don't try to deny it."
"What were you thinking with those vector sum analyses?"
"Miss Memory Loss had no trouble mirroring the tone and speed
"Miss Memory Loss had no trouble mirroring the tone and speed
of your voice."
"Alex is learning speech patterns. Algorithms of driver-related
risk factors," I said accusingly. "Didn't you see our eyes glazing
over?"
"Couldn't tell with her. Never looked at me. Not once."
"That lecture on advances in reconstruction software and
calculations of momentum? Come on!"
"Thought the air speed of the vehicle after it careened off the pile
was relevant."
"You were so busy praising the first responders, you forgot you
were talking to the victim."
"Did no such thing," Fran said tartly. "When you left to go to the
bathroom, soon as you came back, she squared herself, lifted
her shoulders. That tell you anything?"
"G-forces in occupant kinematics? Who's ever heard of that
word?"
"Might want to step it down a notch from hysterical."
"Please! Trying to impress us with peak loads. 'Force equals
mass times acceleration.' What the hell were you doing?"
Fran shook her head slowly. "You tell me."
I suddenly felt dejected. "You acted like this was research for a
science project. How can you close down like that when the
woman whose body was ravaged is sitting right in front of you?
We didn't need a lesson in calculus and physics."
"Heck you didn't. Neither one of you mules wanted to believe
the expert."
I could barely speak. "Mules}"
I could barely speak. "Mules}"
"Stubborn as. You send me off to interview a Colorado Highway
Patrol investigator. Here's what she tells me. Closed down the
interstate for five hours to conduct the investigation.
Photographed and videotaped the scene. Took measurements of
debris and skid marks. Made sketches and perspective grids
and turned those into scale drawings. Evaluated the roadway and
weather conditions. Factored in night visibility limitations.
Collected statements from three credible witnesses. Analyzed
vehicle dynamics and damage. Know what our expert
concluded?"
"I heard it the first time. In Alex's room, when she was wincing in
pain."
"You want accident reconstruction for dummies? Why didn't you
say so? No evidence of lane change, swerving, braking, steering
avoidance or vehicle malfunction. Need it simpler? Here goes."
Fran clenched her teeth. "On the clear, dry night of August
sixteenth, at approximately eleven o'clock, Alex Madigen drove
her Toyota Camry into a concrete pile at the Quincy overpass on
Interstate Twenty-Five. Estimated speed, ninety-one miles per
hour. Car went airborne. She flew out of it. That simple enough
for you?"
"I got it!"
"No drugs or alcohol in her system. Seems I'm the only one who
wants to accept the truth, the only one in this office not acting
like a lap dog."
"How's the truth going to help Alex's healing process? How does
"How's the truth going to help Alex's healing process? How does
she benefit from you rubbing it in that she tried to kill herself but
didn't succeed?"
"Shame my efforts aren't appreciated."
"You didn't have to sound like a state trooper." I mimicked
Fran's deeper voice. "Proximate cause of accident was driver
error."
Fran's lips tightened. "You object to my style, bench me."
"I just did."
"Fine."
"Fine!" I took a deep breath. "Couldn't you at least have given
Alex hope?"
"Didn't know that's the business we're in."
"Accidents occur in milliseconds of time. Couldn't you have said
that?"
"Says Investigator on my business card, not Nursemaid."
"Someone's life is at stake. Don't you get it?"
She stood, leaned across my desk and snapped her fingers in my
face. "Yours or hers?"
"Where are you going?"
"Interview for my talk show," Fran said, heading toward the
door. "We're through here."
We were not through.
Not even close.
For the next few hours, I relived our argument, replaying
remarks I'd made, replacing them with better barbs, but
eventually I acknowledged that Fran might have been accurate
on a few points. When I couldn't reach her on her cell, I decided
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