“I’m keeping an open mind.”

“No, you’re disregarding facts that inculpate Jeffcoat, that is, bad facts that point the finger of blame at him, and you’re emphasizing facts that exculpate him, in other words, good facts that get him off the hook.”

“No I’m not,” Christine said, though she wondered if he was right.

“You believe he’s innocent.”

“Yes, I do,” Christine answered, meaning it. “I’m not absolutely sure, but I do think he’s innocent.”

Griff lifted a furry white eyebrow. “I would fire you if you weren’t working for free.”

“Why?” Christine asked, surprised. “We’re his legal team, we’re supposed to believe in his innocence.”

“No, that’s only in movies and TV. Unrealistic ones, at that.” Griff leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “Jeffcoat does not need our subjective belief, one way or the other, yea or nay. Our job is to get him acquitted. The only way to do that is to be completely objective about the facts as we learn them. That’s how we put ourselves in the shoes of the jury, and before that, the district attorney, the FBI, and the prosecutors in Virginia and Maryland.”

Christine didn’t interrupt Griff because he was on a roll, his gray eyes flashing with a conviction that she sensed had been dormant for a long time.

“If you understand the persuasive weight of the facts against your client, then you can think of an effective argument to meet them. If you don’t give the bad facts the weight they truly deserve, then you will never be able to convince the person who does.”

“Okay.” Christine felt as if she’d just heard why Griff could be good in front of a jury. She rose, coming around the desk to see his notes, which were a mess. “You know, it wouldn’t take me very long to read these and organize them. Then we could share the information.”

“My old paralegal used to say the same thing.”

“Where is she now?” Christine started gathering up the pads.

“She died.”

“Sorry.” Christine let it go, pointing at the stack of accordions that weren’t there earlier. “What are those?”

“Legal research. Relevant cases I pulled out from my files in the back.”

“What back?”

“There.” Griff gestured vaguely to a side door. “That’s where I keep my case files. In the old days I had this whole floor, but since I scaled back, I don’t need it.”

“Let me see.”

“Don’t go snooping back there.”

“It’ll just take a minute.” Christine went to the side door, opening it onto a dark corridor, which ended in a back door. She flipped on the light, illuminating a wall of boxes on the left-hand side of the hallway, and on the right, she spotted something that gladdened her heart. “Is that a bulletin board?”

“What did you say?” Griff called from his desk, but Christine was already tugging the bulletin board from behind some old foamcore trial exhibits. She dragged it out of the hallway and into the office. Nobody could set up a bulletin board like a teacher, and she was getting a second wind.

Griff groaned. “What are you doing?”

“Organizing us.” Christine rested the bulletin board on the side wall, which was bare. “What did you use this for?”

“My secretary liked to keep track of me. My calendar was up there, and a calendar from my associate, back in the day.”

“You had an associate?”

“Yes. His name was Tom, I forget his last name. He was short. I called him Tom Thumb.”

Christine let it go. “Do you have any paper towels?”

“No, why?”

Christine blew dust off the top of the bulletin board. “That’s why. Please hand me some napkins.”

“Why are you doing this?” Griff handed over the napkins.

“We need a bulletin board for the case. One place where all the facts can be collected, maybe a map so we can plot where the three murders occurred, as well as the date and time.” Christine wiped dust from the bulletin board. “We need a list of the facts, like you said, the good facts and the bad facts, so that we can analyze them objectively. We need a chronology of the case, so we can fill in the facts.”

Griff rolled his eyes. “You want a war room. Maps with little flags, like on TV.”

“Yes, but they exist in real life, don’t they? Didn’t you used to have a war room?”

“War rooms are for lawyers who have an army. I only had me.”

“What about Tom Thumb?”

“He lasted six months.”

“He quit?”

“He died.”

Christine wondered if it was suicide. “You don’t play well with others, Griff.”

“Don’t try and change me. Women always try to change men. It never works.”

“I’m not trying to change you. I’m trying to work with you.” Christine tossed the dirty napkins into the trash can. “I still don’t have most of the important facts of the case.”

“But I do.”

“Where?”

“In my head.” Griff pointed to his fluffy gray temple.

“But I need to know things, too. We need to communicate.” Christine shot him a look. “Can you get me another napkin? We’re a team.”

“I’ll know more after tomorrow.” Griff leaned over the desk, got a napkin, and handed it over. “I’m meeting with the detectives from Maryland and Virginia.”

“When did that happen?” Christine wiped down the sides of the bulletin board.

“I set it up on the phone, while you were out. Must I account to you?”

“You have to inform me, not account to me.”

“A distinction without a difference.” Griff sniffed. “They’ll be here tomorrow. Maybe the FBI, too, but I’ll know better tomorrow morning.”

“Should I meet them with you? It sounds interesting, but I’m not sure it’s the best use of my time.”

“It isn’t. No sense in our duplicating effort. You should continue factual investigation. I can’t get around as easy as you, with my bunions.”

“Okay.” Christine felt pleased that he seemed to be thinking about their working together. “I was thinking I’d go back to Zachary and talk to him about when he first met Robinbrecht, see why he lied. What do you think about that?”