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children?” Cavanaugh completed.
    Mary Ann nodded. “Y-Yes.”
    “And you subsequently were forced to undergo an emergency double mastectomy. Correct?”
    Mary Ann covered her chest. “Yes.”
    “Do you recall anything else Mr. Moroconi did or said?”
    “Yes. He was the one who suggested they tie me to the back of my car and drag me.”
    “Why would he want to do that?”
    “He said, ‘Just to teach the dumb bitch a lesson.’ ”
    “Subsequent testimony will show you were dragged for over a mile,” Cavanaugh said quietly. Counsel was testifying, but Travis wasn’t about to protest. “What happened after that?”
    “They tossed me back in the trunk, drove around for several hours, then threw me out on the side of a dirt road. Like I was … just a piece of garbage.” Her voice was beyond tears; it took on an empty, despairing tone. “I hurt so bad. I felt so … ruined. I just wanted to die. That was the only thing I kept thinking. I just wanted to die.”

14
10:45 A.M.
    W HEN MARY ANN FINISHED, the courtroom was deadly silent. Several of the jurors were crying.
    Travis knew he would have to break this spell. He would have to play the villain and ask Mary Ann the tough questions. He also knew that even if the jurors ultimately agreed with him, they would hate him. Who wouldn’t?
    “Psst.”
    It was Moroconi, hissing into Travis’s ear.
    “Yeah?”
    “Ask how often she gets laid.”
    “ What ?”
    “Ask her about her sex life. I bet she’s had a good fuck or two in her time.”
    “Brilliant suggestion,” Travis said. “You’re a real sweetheart.”
    “Listen to me, Mr. Big-Shot Attorney. I’ve seen this routine played before. The jury might be a little pissed off at first, but once they hear about all the other times she’s had sex, all the different positions she’s tried, and all the different guys she’s screwed, they’ll change their minds. They’ll wonder if she wasn’t looking for some action in that bar that night, if she didn’t maybe ask for what she got.”
    “Get a grip, Moroconi,” Travis said emphatically. “No way.”
    “What do you mean? You got to do this.”
    “I don’t got to do anything. Especially not for—” He stopped himself just in time.
    “For what? For a guy too dirty for you to touch with your lily-white hands? I tell you, this is a sure winner!” Moroconi’s face tightened. “Who’s the client here?”
    “You are. And I’m the attorney. An officer of the court. And I’m not doing it.”
    “You self-righteous son of a bitch. What the hell are you plannin’?”
    “Just wait and see.”
    “You prick. You’ll be sorry you screwed with me.”
    Hagedorn pounded his gavel on the bench. “Mr. Byrne! I hate to interrupt what is undoubtedly a fascinating conversation, but may I inquire if you would like to cross-examine this witness?”
    Travis rose to his feet. “Yes, your honor. I would. But may I request a brief recess before we begin?”
    Hagedorn glanced at his watch. “Well, we could probably all use a break. Court will resume in five minutes.”
    Travis didn’t have a nice-nice voice, but he was going to have to fake it as best he could. If the jury thought he was being mean to Mary Ann McKenzie—prematurely—they’d never listen to another word he uttered.
    “Miss McKenzie, my name is Travis Byrne, and as you probably know, I represent the defendant. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right.”
    “Certainly,” she said, barely audibly.
    “I know this is very hard for you, ma’am. If you need to stop at any time, just tell me.”
    “All right.”
    “Do you feel able to proceed?”
    She nodded.
    “Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation.” Surely that was a sufficient show of sympathy. Now to get on with it. “Ma’am, when you were first questioned by the police, you didn’t identify Mr. Moroconi by name, did you?”
    “Of course not. I didn’t know his name. I’d never seen him before that