A Good Mother

Anything to protect her.”
“And I wouldn’t?” Abby nearly rear-ends the car in front of them and slams on the brakes. For a second time, Will feels the press of his seat belt as he is thrown forward.
“How dare you judge me?”
“Because what you’re doing is wrong. You are so selfish. Luz thinks so, too.” In fact, Luz has never said anything of the sort, but as soon as he says the words Will believes in their powerful toxicity, almost as if they had appeared like graffiti on his garage door.
Abby turns pale but says nothing.
“For crissakes,” Will continues, “you should have exited stage left as soon as you found out who the trial judge was. What do you think is going to happen in that courtroom after everything that went down in Rayshon Marbury’s case between you two? It is going to be a bloodbath and it’s going to be at her expense.”
“To the contrary,” she says coldly. “Dars said on the record that he would be fair. You told me so yourself.”
Will laughs bitterly. “You’re always betting, aren’t you? Betting Dars will fear the optics too much to work us over. Betting you won’t get caught for your reckless behavior, like that little hit-and-run back in the parking garage, or whatever unholy thing you did to win Rayshon Marbury’s case. Maybe you’ll get lucky again, maybe not. I don’t really care one way or the other. But I’m no fool, so don’t think for a second about pulling any of that with me. Or dragging me down with you.”
A silence falls, lasting for several slowly driven miles.
“And what is it,” she says icily, “that you think you can do to reach Luz?”
The question catches Will up short because he hasn’t thought it through fully. His focus was on getting Abby away from Luz, not what he would do if he succeeded. “I would—” he stops to gather his thoughts “—develop a relationship with her based on sympathy and trust. I’ve already started to do that, in our earlier meetings. We have a strong connection.” As he says these words he almost believes them. “I can help her tell the story of the worst night of her life in a way that will make the women on the jury feel an instant connection to her and will make the men on the jury feel outrage on her behalf.”
“How will you do that?” Abby’s tone is still cold but she also sounds genuinely curious.
“I am going to keep working with her, every day, to break down the barriers that are preventing her from talking to us—to overcome the fear and anxiety and the sense that no one understands her. I think,” he says, and pauses, “I think I do understand her.” The time in Dr. Cartwright’s office was not a waste. She has given Will a window. A way in.
“Okay.”
Will looks over at Abby but her face is expressionless. “Okay, what?”
Abby signals, shifts two lanes to the right, and takes the downtown exit. She pulls over to the side of the road next to a no parking sign, turns on her hazard lights, and shuts off the engine. The expression on her face is the same as when she was staring out the window in Dr. Cartwright’s office—she’s gone somewhere else, isn’t seeing Will at all.
“I’m thinking about Luz on the witness stand,” she says finally. “We can dirty up Travis. We can hammer away at the government’s witnesses. But Luz is our case. At the end of the day, nothing else matters if the jury doesn’t believe her. If the jury can see what she was up against—if you can embody that because you’re a man and I can’t because I’m not, or because Luz has contempt for me, for my choices—” She breaks off.
Will waits, understanding that he might actually get what he wants.
Abby is nodding now, more to herself than him. “We have to get this right. This decision, more than all the others, is the one we have to get right.” Will watches as Abby reaches for her locket, moving it back and forth on the gold chain. He waits, and just when he has gotten impatient, is about to say something to prod her, she looks directly at him. “Okay. Go for it.”
Will nods back, doing his best not to look triumphant, and settles back in his seat, able to relax at last. But almost immediately, Abby jerks him toward her, cupping his chin and turning his face forcibly toward her own. Her fingers are cold, her grip unexpectedly strong.
“You need to understand something, though.” Their faces are inches apart, her eyes fixed on his. The sudden intensity of her gaze takes him aback and he has to fight the urge to pull away.
“Listen to me,” she says quietly. “Luz is a liar.”
He looks at her in disbelief.
“Luz is a liar,” Abby repeats. “And if you don’t remember that, it’ll be her that takes you down.”

2006


Wednesday, January 18, 2006
1:13 p.m.
Willowick, Ohio
From: sexxygirljax@yahoo.com
To: travman@hotmail.com
Wassup cutie im starting to show. wearing a big T shirt for now but pretty soon everyone iz gonna know. Lance thinks its his and gonna take responsibility even tho i dumped his ass. don’t worry my lips are sealed as long as you treat me right. dont prove me wrong or u will be fucking sorry.
Friday, January 20, 2006
10:31 p.m.
Ramstein Air Base
Ramstein-Miesenbach, Germany
From: travman@hotmail.com
To: sexxygirljax@yahoo.com
How do I know its mine???


2007


Wednesday, February 14, 2007
2:00 p.m.
TOT
Little Toyko
Antoine Jones’s legs extend in opposite directions far beyond the confines of the table, which, like most tables at restaurants in Little Tokyo, seems child-sized. Will wonders if this is a Japanese thing or just a calculated decision to cram as many people as possible into an already cramped space. TOT isn’t crowded today; they’ve missed the lunch rush hour, luckily for the patrons who would have to navigate around Antoine. The guy is nearly seven feet tall and