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believe this is happening to you.”
    â€œIt’s going to be a character-building experience, but I’m sure I can handle it.”
    â€œWhat did she look like?”
    â€œBetter than ever. She’s aged well.”
    â€œAnd her voice?”
    â€œJust like I remembered, especially her laugh.”
    â€œMrs. Willston never laughed,” Perry said.
    â€œThis teacher does.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œIt wasn’t Mrs. Willston,” Scott said. “I had breakfast with Kay Wilson. You’d probably remember her as Kay Laramie.”
    â€œKay Laramie? Didn’t you date her when we were seniors?”
    â€œYes. Now she’s teaching English at the high school.”
    â€œDid she marry someone from around here?”
    â€œNo. A guy she met in California. But they’ve been separated for months, and her husband has filed for divorce. He’s living in Virginia Beach with his girlfriend.”
    â€œWhat’s she like now?” Perry asked. “All I remember is a skinny blond who made good grades.”
    â€œLike I said, she’s aged well.”
    â€œWhich means?”
    â€œShe looks great, but she’s had a rough time over the past year. I didn’t cross-examine her about the details.”
    Scott selected a pair of dumbbells from a rack. Lying on a bench he began working on his triceps.
    â€œHow did you feel being with her?” Perry asked.
    Scott paused after completing the next repetition. “I don’t know. That’s a tougher question than the one I asked you.”

    The first thing Monday morning, Scott stopped by Mr. Humphrey’s office. The older lawyer looked up.
    â€œCome in. Did you talk to Dr. Lassiter at the high school?”
    â€œYes, sir. We ate lunch together, and I’ve also met with the faculty advisor. We have our first meeting with the students tomorrow night.”
    Scott didn’t summarize his past relationship with Kay Laramie Wilson. Mr. Humphrey was too busy to listen to a story about Scott’s high-school dating history.
    â€œYou volunteered in the nick of time,” the senior partner said. “It would have been a shame not to have a lawyer helping from the beginning.”
    Mr. Humphrey picked up a phone message and prepared to dial a number. Scott didn’t move.
    â€œI didn’t come in to talk about the mock trial program,” he said. “I need to ask you about something else.”
    The older lawyer put down the slip of paper. “What is it? I’ve got a full plate of phone duty left over from last week.”
    Scott quickly outlined the Garrison situation and concluded by saying, “I can file a motion to keep it in juvenile court, but if the judge lets the D.A. prosecute Lester as an adult, my time will eat up the $2,500 fee long before it goes to trial.”
    â€œHave you talked to the boy’s father?”
    â€œNot yet. He’s a truckdriver, and it may take a couple of days to track him down. Even then, I’m not sure he can pay any more money.”
    Leland Humphrey ran his thumb down the inside of his right suspender. “What do you want to do?”
    Scott didn’t hesitate. “I want to stay in the case.”
    Mr. Humphrey rocked back and forth in his chair a couple of times then sat up straight. “All right. If the boy’s father won’t pay any more money, the experience will be compensation enough. Keep track of your time and turn it in to me. I’ll explain it to the other partners.”
    â€œAnd my lack of experience?”
    â€œYou’ll learn quickly, but if it becomes a felony charge in superior court, I’ll help you out.”

    During the initial interview at the youth detention center, Lester had resolutely maintained his innocence; however, Scott had no illusions about the truthfulness of his client. In law school he’d heard that few lawyers handled criminal cases, fewer still did a good job, and