Double Jeopardy Read Online Free PDF Page B

from his coat pocket and extended his hands, knuckles up. He swirled his hands around in a confusing blur. “Okay, which hand are the marbles in?”
    “Really, Travis, who cares?” She snapped the Goofy figurine onto her bracelet. “My mom gave me this bracelet,” she said quietly.
    “I know.”
    “Aunt Marnie hid my picture of her. She said it was making me all sad and moody. Maybe she was right.” She wrapped the bracelet around her wrist. “You’re gonna laugh, Travis, but sometimes, late at night, I imagine Mom’s talking to me. Not just a word or two. Whole big long conversations.” She looked down at her sneakers. “She says a lot of nice stuff. In my head, I mean. Acts like she really likes me or something.”
    Travis smiled. “She does, sweetheart.”
    “Yeah, right.” Staci hesitated, as if there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t. “Travis, this is real stupid. I know it’s been four years, but … I still miss her.”
    Travis opened his arms and Staci crawled inside. He felt a cold saltwater sprinkle on his neck. “That’s not stupid, honey,” he said, hugging her tightly. “I still miss her, too.”

TUESDAY
April 16

8
7:05 A.M.
    T RAVIS SAT IN THE holding cell reviewing the Moroconi file while the guards fetched his client. It was a familiar routine. They insisted that the lawyer be in place first. Maybe they wanted to make the lawyer uncomfortable, Travis speculated. To let him experience a few moments of the foreboding the guards lived with on a daily basis.
    The guards made no secret of how much they hated attorney-client conferences, during which they were required by law to afford the defendant and his counselor privacy, if only for a brief period. They seemed convinced lawyers took advantage of the privacy to smuggle weapons or other contraband to their clients. Travis couldn’t blame them. Four years ago he knew he would have harbored the same suspicions.
    He buried himself in the file, trying to pass the time as profitably and painlessly as possible. It didn’t work. He kept staring at the photographs, wondering what kind of monster could do that to another human being.
    The cell door abruptly swung open and two uniformed guards escorted Alberto Moroconi into the cell. Travis was introduced to a medium-sized man with a wispy mustache and a day’s stubble. Travis was surprised, although he wasn’t sure why. What was he expecting, Frankenstein?
    The guards planted Moroconi in his chair and handcuffed him to the table.
    “We don’t need the bracelets,” Travis said. “Please remove them.”
    The guard closest to him shrugged. “Warden says leave ’em on.”
    “There are several documents and photographs I need him to examine.”
    “Ain’t that a shame.” The guard closed the cell door behind him. “Maybe he can hold them with his nose.”
    Thanks bunches. Once the guards were out of earshot, Travis addressed his new client. “My name is Travis Byrne. I’ve been appointed to represent you at the trial today—”
    “You’re a cop,” Moroconi said curtly.
    “I’m a lawyer,” Travis replied. How on earth—“I used to be a cop.”
    “Same diff’rence. I knew it was somethin’ like that. It shows.”
    Travis didn’t know what that meant, and he didn’t plan to kill precious time finding out, either. “I need to ask you a few questions—”
    “You ain’t one of these cops-and-robbers screwballs with a secret game plan, are you? Like playin’ good cop to my face while you’re fixin’ to send me up the river.”
    “I assure you I’ll do everything the law permits to obtain an acquittal.”
    Moroconi scrutinized Travis intently. “A cop doin’ me favors. Go figure.”
    “Mr. Moroconi, our time together is limited. Can we discuss your case?”
    Moroconi folded his arms across his chest. “Shoot.”
    “Did you know the victim, Miss Mary Ann McKenzie?”
    “Oh, yeah. I knew the bitch.”
    Travis bit down on his lower lip. “And … how did