The room looked the same, though the flowers in the heavy glass vase had started to wilt. Andrew was at the fireplace end of the conference table. A thick file folder was closed in front of him. Light blue, not the sort that they used at the firm. Reggie Paltz was two chairs away. The set-up was familiar from their previous meeting. Reggie was working on his laptop. Andrew was frowning at his phone. Neither was masked.
When Leigh closed the door, Andrew was the first to look up. She caught his expression mid-transformation. Irritated one moment, completely soulless the next.
“My apologies for being late.” Leigh walked stiffly. Her body felt suspended in the same perpetual fight-or-flight mode as before. Her senses were heightened. Her muscles felt tensed. The urge to flee coursed through every molecule.
She bought herself some time as she found a pen in the cup on the credenza. She sat down in the same spot she’d taken two nights ago. Her two phones went flat to the table. She knew the only way to get through the next hour was to stick to business. “Reggie, what do you have for me?”
Andrew answered. “I remembered something Tammy told me at the bar.”
Leigh felt a sharp prickle of a warning trace up her spine. “What’s that?”
He let the question linger as he picked at the corner of the light blue file folder. The tick-tick-tick drew out the silence. Leigh estimated there were around one hundred pages inside. She knew instinctively that she didn’t want to know what they contained. And she also knew that Andrew wanted her to ask about them.
She heard Callie’s admonishment. You can’t play a game with somebody if they’re not willing to suit up.
Leigh did the opposite of suiting up. She raised an eyebrow, asking, “Andrew, what did Tammy tell you in the bar?”
He let another moment slip by, then said, “She was raped and had an abortion when she was sixteen years old.”
Leigh felt her nostrils flare as she worked to keep the shock off of her face.
He said, “It happened over the summer of 2006. The boy was on her debate team. They were at a camp in Hiawassee. She said that there was no way she could keep the baby, because she knew she would never love it.”
Leigh pressed together her lips. She had watched every frame of the ninety-eight-minute video. There was no point at which Tammy Karlsen was engaging in anything but light banter and flirting.
“You see the value of this information, I assume?” Andrew was watching her closely. The tick kept its steady rhythm. “Tammy Karlsen has falsely accused a man of rape before. She murdered her unborn child. Can the jury really believe a word she says?”
Leigh tried to look at him, but the open menace in his eyes broke her nerve. She didn’t know what to do but play along. She asked, “Reggie, what do you have to support this?”
The ticking stopped. Andrew was waiting.
“Yeah, uhm—” Reggie was a study in dishonesty, which told Leigh that he had obtained the information by dishonest means. “So, Andrew told me about—about how he remembered. So, I tracked down some of Karlsen’s high school friends. They confirmed the abortion. And that she told everybody she was raped.”
“Did the friends go on the record?” Leigh tested. “Are they willing to testify?”
Reggie shook his head, looking somewhere over Leigh’s shoulder. “They prefer to remain anonymous.”
Leigh nodded as if she accepted the explanation. “That’s too bad.”
“Well,” Reggie glanced at Andrew. “Still, you can legitimately ask Karlsen about it when she testifies. Like, has she ever had an abortion? Has she ever thought that she’s been raped before?”
Leigh pushed back on his armchair lawyering. “You have to lay down a foundation for asking the questions. Since none of Tammy’s friends will go under oath, I’ll need to put you on the stand, Reggie.”
Reggie scratched his goatee. He gave Andrew a nervous glance. “You could get it in otherwise. I mean—”
“No, you’ll do great,” Leigh said. “Walk me through your investigation. How many of Tammy’s friends did you speak with? How did you locate them? Did you talk to any counselors from the camp? Did Tammy file a complaint with the director? Was there a police report? What was the boy’s name? How far along was she? What clinic did she use? Who took her? Do her parents know?”
Reggie wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. “That’s, uh—those are—”
“He’ll be ready to go when you need him.” Andrew had not looked away from Leigh since she had entered the room, and he didn’t break off contact now. “Won’t you, Reg?”