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smelled like gasoline, and—” he consulted the report—“I see you forgot to mention that bit to police.  They didn’t even speak to Caroline until a few days after the fire, when any remaining scent would have dissipated.”  He returned his attention to the sheaves of paper in his lap. 
    “What—what kind of evidence do they have against her?”
    “I’m not sure.  Still waiting on it.  All I have are a few statements and the incident report.  The police haven’t subpoenaed cell phone records, so I’ll be putting in a request of my own from AT&T.”  He consulted his watch.  Probably about to feign a meeting he had to attend to get the hell out of this madhouse.  “Should paint a better picture of what happened that afternoon.”
    “So you don’t know what her defense is going to be?”
    “I thought I’d go with not guilty .”
    “That goes without saying.  You’re dodging all my questions but demanding honesty from me.  Hardly seems fair.”
    He latched his briefcase shut and stood.  “I’m not entirely sure at the moment, but I have a few ideas.”
    I waited for a longer explanation.  None came, only an infuriating smile.  “Well, what ?  What are your ideas?  This isn’t a joke to me.  Stop smiling.”
    He didn’t.  “Victim-blaming, for starters.  Brian’s got a long criminal history.” 
    “Caroline said you didn’t even speak to her at the facility.”
    “The loony bin?”
    “She’s not crazy.”
    “Oh, I know that.”  He gave me a thumbs-up and an over-exaggerated wink.  “Good thing nobody else does.”
    “Why didn’t you want to talk to her?  She could give you information I can’t.  I’m just the idiot little sister.  I’m nobody.”
    “You’re not nobody to me.  It’s not often attorneys make house calls.  I like working from the outside in.  I’ll talk to her eventually.”  He headed backward for the front door.  “You look like her, though.  More so from a distance.  Up close you can see your softer edges.” 
    I didn’t look like her.  Caroline was the kind of woman people stopped to stare at, amazed she went to the supermarket and stopped for coffee like everyone else, startled she wasn’t up in the sky, hanging out on some cloud in Olympus.  I wasn’t a siren like her.  Nobody had to chain themselves to the mast around me. 
    He grabbed the doorknob, calling over his shoulder.  “I’ll be back to see you, Katya.”
    “Well,” I huffed, getting to my feet.  “Well, can you at least call first?”
    “Sure.”  The stupid self-impressed smile returned.  “Give me your number.”
    I rattled off the digits, kind of hating him, kind of not.  Should I snarl or smile?  He seemed capable, but I’d never met anyone so exasperating. 
    And when he left, I slouched on the sofa and reached for the tarot deck.  King of Swords . Represents intellectual authority and clarity of vision and mind.  Typically his appearance would caution one to leave emotions and unnecessary tidbits out of the equation; focus on facts only.  Or the reader could go the obvious route and claim it depicts a strong-hearted man, decisive and smart.  But the sword he holds is double-edged, and he could be ruthless, manipulative and judgmental if he wishes. 
     
    ***
     
    In retrospect, I must have been an idiot not to know what Caroline had done.  From the fire on, she’d stopped all mentions of Brian, become remarkably blasé about anything to do with him and Hailey Whatsherface, and I’d been ecstatic.  If I’d never heard his name again, it’d be too soon.  She’d awakened from a long sleep after biting that poisoned apple, resumed planning grand ideas for weekends, trying inventive recipes, preaching about my first year of college and all its importance.  A constant stream of advice punctuated every thought she’d voiced.  Wanna watch Dr. Phil?  Better not get used too used it to it, once you start classes you’ll have to say sayonara