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  "In addition, he suffered from a temporary psychotic reaction brought about by prolonged stress."

  "Can you describe that for us?"

  "It's a short period of time during which a person behaves in a way that is clearly strange and clearly different from his usual lifestyle. It often includes memory loss, periods of amnesia, and distortions of reality. In other words, a person might not be aware of what is happening, even if he's the one making it happen."

  "In your professional opinion, Doctor, is Jamie aware of the difference between right and wrong today?"

  "Yes."

  "And at the time of his wife's death?" "No."

  "Why not?"

  Harding crossed his legs. "Jamie was suffering from tremendous amounts of pressure, which impaired his ability to think clearly and to objectively weigh a statement made to him by his wife. People who live with a deteriorating spouse are often struck by prolonged grief that can lead to a more severe depression and a blurring of judgment. In layman's terms, Jamie went over the edge. In my opinion, he was consciously aware of the scope of his actions on the night of his wife's death."

  Graham thanked Dr. Harding and turned the witness over to Audra Campbell. She stood up, put her finger to her lips, and then peered at him a little more closely. Then a smile broke across her face. "Dr. Harding!" she cried, as if she were seeing an old friend. "Haven't I seen your name before? In Time magazine? The Kevorkian case?"

  Harding puffed up visibly, his shoulders becoming three inches taller and his chest expanding with a deep, indrawn breath. "That's right," he said. "November 1995."

  Audra nodded at him like she was clearly impressed. "Isn't it true, Dr. Harding, that you've testified at numerous cases advocating the right to die?"

  "Yes, I have."

  "Isn't it possible that your interpretation of the defendant's understanding of right and wrong is actually your own personal justification for his act?"

  Graham watched the wind sink out of Harding's sails. "No, of course not."

  "Nothing further."

  Audra sat down and shot Graham a smug glance. He stood up wearily, his hand on Jamie's shoulder, unsure if he was giving or asking for support. "The defense rests," he said.

  Cam brought Allie a cup of coffee. She was speaking to his mother with her back to him, so there was no possible way she could see that he was coming, but when he placed his hand on her arm, she stiffened.

  Ellen glanced up at her son, finished her sentence, and said she was going to the ladies' room.

  "I missed you this morning," Cam said. He felt ridiculous, nervous. His hands were shaking.

  Allie nodded. She took a sip of the coffee, mentally noting that Cam had added sugar, and she never took sugar.

  "So," he said, cutting with his eyes to the door of the courtroom. "Almost over."

  "It may be some time. Graham says the State will put up a rebuttal witness. Their own psychologist."

  Cam nodded. He felt bad for Jamie, but he didn't want to talk about him right now. He lowered his voice. "Any regrets?" he asked.

  Allie looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and clear, the color of oak. "I love you, Cam," she said frankly. "But I still don't like you very much."

  The State called Roanoke Martin to the stand Graham watched him mount the stairs and place his palm over the Bible. It was clear from the set of his head and the slouch in his walk that he wanted to be somewhere else.

  Audra walked the psychologist through his credentials. Then, all business, she stood squarely in front of him, blocking him from Graham's view. "When did you meet with the defendant?" "On December nineteenth, last year." "And can you give us your evaluation?"

  "The defendant clearly understood right from wrong, and suffered no break from reality."

  Audra nodded shortly. "Doctor, on the night of the killing, in your expert opinion, did the defendant know that holding a pillow to someone's face would lead to asphyxiation?"

  "Yes."

  "Did he know that asphyxiation would lead to death?" "Yes."

  Audra glanced at the jury. "Based on your conversation with the defendant, on the night of the killing, do you feel that he was insane?"

  "No," Martin said firmly. "I do not."

  "Your witness." Audra marched back to the prosecution table and began to close folders and files as if she had the case all wrapped up.

  Graham stood slowly. "Do you recall what time Jamie arrived at your office?"

  Martin furrowed his brow, exhibiting enormous concentration. "I'm not sure. I can look it up in my notes." "Please."

  Graham paced while Dr. Martin flipped through a black leatherbound book he had pulled from his breast pocket. "12:05 p.m.," he said.

  "Can you tell me without looking at your notes how long the meeting lasted?"

  The psychologist blinked owlishly at Graham. "I can't recall," he said.

  "Would it help you to check your notes?" Graham said, indulgent.

  Martin scanned several pages. "It concluded at 12:23 p.m." "You had eighteen minutes with Jamie." "Yes, apparently."

  "Did you discuss the night in question?" "Yes."

  "Did you discuss his wife's illness?" "Briefly."

  "Did you cover the prospects for her recovery?" "I can't recall."

  By this point, Graham had advanced on the witness so that he was bent back under the force of the attorney's questions. "Did you explore their relationship?"

  "Possibly," the doctor said, somewhat faintly.

  Graham let out a long whistle through his front teeth. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets. "You mean to tell me you did all this in eighteen minutes? And based on this no doubt thorough conversation with Jamie, you feel qualified to judge his mental state?"

  Roanoke Martin tipped his chin up. "Yes," he said.

  "Isn't it true that you listened to Jamie that day, and took into consideration his answers and his affect on that day, and reached a conclusion about his mental state based on what was right before your eyes?"

  "Well," Martin said, "of course that entered into it--"

  "Nothing further."

  Graham went back to his seat.

  It was Friday, and everyone in the legal community knew Juno Roarke liked to get out as early as he could Friday and go to the dog track, so it was no surprise when the judge dismissed the jury and announced that summations would begin on Monday morning. No surprise, but simply a disappointment.

  Graham loaded his file into his briefcase. Jamie was still sitting beside him. "That's the end of the show?" he asked.

  "That's it," Graham said. Summations didn't count. The prosecution had the last word then, anyway. "I just wish he hadn't broken off today. It means another weekend of waiting for you."

  Jamie shrugged. He didn't say anything, but Graham knew what he was thinking. Another weekend you're still free. "You've got a ride?" Graham asked.

  Jamie nodded. He told Graham to have a nice weekend. Then he turned around. Most of the spectators had filed out the door a few minutes before. Allie and Cam were gone. Ellen was sitting by herself on the bench behind him.

  "I didn't know you were still here," he said, smiling at her.

  "I'm trying to get a feel for the courtroom without the noise. You know, is it a positive place or a negative one."

  Jamie swung one leg over the separating railing. "I guess that depends on if you're the prosecutor or the defendant."

  "So," Ellen said, laying a hand on his knee. "What are you going to do when this is all over?"

  She looked up at him with such fierce expectation that Jamie almost laughed. "I'm going to Disney World!" he crowed, spinning over the railing to land beside Ellen. Then he sank into the seat next to her and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know," he said. "I really don't know."

  "Well, what would you like to do?"

  He considered this. He didn't want to work; he didn't think he'd be able to program computers very well when he couldn't even master his own mind. He didn't much feel like going back to Cu