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  George considered this. "And yet, you seem to think that's highly improbable."

  "If you knew Katie, you would, too."

  "By your own testimony, the foremost thought in Katie's mind was acceptance by her community."

  "Yes."

  "A murderer would be shunned by the Amish community-- maybe even forever?"

  "That's my assumption."

  "Well, then, if the defendant killed her baby, wouldn't it make sense for her to hide the evidence of the murder so that she wouldn't be excommunicated forever?"

  "Gosh, I used to do this in seventh-grade math. If x, then y. If not x, then not y."

  "Dr. Cooper," George pressed.

  "Well, I only brought it up because if the if part of that statement is false, the then part doesn't work either. Which is just a roundabout way of saying that Katie really couldn't have murdered her baby. That's a conscious act, with conscious reactive actions--and she was in a dissociative state at that point."

  "According to your theory, she dissociated when she gave birth--and was dissociating when she hid the body--but managed to be conscious and mentally present enough to understand that the baby had died of natural causes in the few minutes in between?"

  Coop's face froze. "Well," he said, recovering, "not quite. There's a distinction between knowing what's happening, and understanding it. It's possible that she was dissociating during the entire sequence."

  "If she was dissociating when she realized the baby had died in her arms, as you suggest, then she was not really aware of what was happening?"

  Coop nodded. "That's right."

  "Then why would she have felt such overwhelming grief and shame?"

  He had Coop up against a tree, and we all knew it. "Katie employed a variety of defense mechanisms to get through the birth. Any of these might have been at work at the moment she realized the infant had died."

  "How convenient," George commented.

  "Objection!" I called out.

  "Sustained."

  "Doctor, you said that the first thing Katie recalled about the birth was that she didn't want to get blood on the sheets, so she headed to the barn to give birth?"

  "Yes."

  "She didn't recall the baby itself."

  "The baby came after the labor, Mr. Callahan."

  The prosecutor smiled. "So my dad told me forty years ago. What I meant was that the defendant did not recall holding the baby, or bonding with it, isn't that right?"

  "All that would happen after the birth. After the dissociation," Coop said.

  "Well, then, it seems awfully callous to be worrying about your sheets when you're apparently enraptured with the idea of having a child."

  "She wasn't enraptured at the time. She was terrified, and dissociating."

  "So she wasn't acting like herself?" George prodded.

  "Exactly."

  "One might even say, then, that it was like the defendant's body was there, giving birth, feeling pain, although her mind was elsewhere?"

  "Correct. You can function mechanically, even in a dissociative state."

  George nodded. "Isn't it possible that the part of Katie Fisher that was physically present and mechanically able to give birth and cut the cord might also have been physically present and mechanically able to kill the baby?"

  Coop was silent for a moment. "There are a number of possibilities."

  "I'm gonna take that as a yes." George started to walk back to the prosecution's table. "Oh, one final question. How long have you known Ms. Hathaway?"

  I was on my feet before I even realized I had been rising. "Objection!" I yelled. "Relevance? Foundation?"

  Surely everyone could see how red my face had become. A hush had fallen over the courtroom. On the stand, Coop looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

  Judge Ledbetter squinted at me. "Approach," she said. "What does this have to do with anything, Mr. Callahan?"

  "I'd like to show that Ms. Hathaway has had a working relationship with this witness for many years."

  Flattened on the polished surface of the judge's bench, my palms were sweating. "We've never worked together in court before," I said. "Mr. Callahan is trying to prejudice the jury simply by showing that Dr. Cooper and I know each other personally as well as professionally."

  "Mr. Callahan?" the judge asked.

  "Your Honor, I believe there's a conflict of interest here, and I want the jury to know it."

  While the judge weighed our statements, I suddenly remembered the first time Katie had admitted to knowing the father of her baby. The moon had been full and white, pressed up against the window to eavesdrop; Katie's voice had smoothed at the edges when she said Adam's name out loud. And just ten minutes ago: This memory was the only thing I had left, and you gave it away.

  If George Callahan did this, he'd be robbing me.

  "All right," the judge said. "I'll allow you to proceed with your questioning."

  I crossed back to the defense table and took my seat beside Katie. Almost immediately, her hand reached for my own and squeezed. "How long have you known the defense counsel?" George asked.

  "Twenty years," Coop said.

  "Isn't it true that you two have more than a professional relationship?"

  "We've been friends for a long time. I respect her immensely."

  George's gaze raked me from head to toe, and at that moment I had the profound urge to kick him in the teeth. "Friends?" he pushed. "Nothing more?"

  "It's none of your business," Coop said.

  The prosecutor shrugged. "That's what Katie thought, too, and look where it got her."

  "Objection!" I said, standing so quickly that I almost pulled Katie up too.

  "Sustained."

  George smiled at me. "Withdrawn."

  "Come on," Coop said to me a little later, when he was released as a witness and the judge called for a coffee break. "You need a walk."

  "I need to stay with Katie."

  "Jacob will baby-sit, won't you, Jacob?" Coop asked, clapping Katie's brother on the shoulder.

  "Sure," Jacob said, straightening a little in his seat.

  "All right." I followed Coop out of the courtroom, through a volley of quiet murmurs from the press reps who were still sitting in the gallery.

  As soon as we reached the lobby, a camera flash exploded in my face. "Is it true," the accompanying reporter said, her face only inches from mine, "that--"

  "Can I just say something here?" Coop interrupted pleasantly. "Do you know how tall I am?"

  The reporter frowned. "Six-two, six-three?"

  "Just about. Do you know what I weigh?"

  "One ninety."

  "Excellent guess. Do you know that I'm thinking really hard about taking that camera and throwing it on the ground?"

  The reporter smirked. "Guess you're a bodyguard in every sense of the word."

  I squeezed Coop's arm and pulled him off into a hallway, where I found an empty conference room. Coop stared at the closed door, as if contemplating going back after the reporter. "It's not worth the publicity," I said.

  "But think about the psychological satisfaction."

  I sank into a chair. "I can't believe that no one's tried to take a picture of Katie, but they came after me."

  Coop smiled. "If they go after Katie, it makes them look bad--violating religious freedom and all that. But they still need something to run as a graphic with their stories. That leaves you and Callahan, and believe me, a camera's gonna love you more than it loves him." He hesitated. "You were fantastic in there."

  Shrugging, I curled my toes out of my pumps. "You were awfully good yourself. The best witness we've had yet, I think--"

  "Well, thanks--"

  "--until George completely undermined your credibility."

  Coop came to stand behind me. "Shit. He didn't nullify the whole testimony with that crap, did he?"

  "Depends on how self-righteous the jury is, and how much they think we were taking them for a ride. Juries do not like