First Degree by David Rosenfelt Page B

before the judge. I doubt Dylan will want that to happen, so I suspect he’ll be generally, and grudgingly, cooperative with Kevin.
    We discuss how we will frame our request for bail, and prepare a motion utilizing what favorable case law there is. Kevin thinks we have a better chance than I think we have, which is encouraging, since he’s a terrific attorney who has worked both sides of the system.
    I tell Kevin about Stynes; my reservations about breaking that privilege have long since disappeared. Since Stynes had to know that they were not his clothes behind the stadium, he was clearly in my office for the purpose of framing Laurie. He played me like an accordion, and paying him back will be a key component of Laurie’s defense.
    Kevin leaves and I sit up another couple of hours, thinking about the case. I instinctively know that the victim is going to be the key, that understanding the last two years of Alex Dorsey’s life is the only way to reveal the truth about his death.
    One thing I know for sure: Laurie did not kill him. Stynes’s involvement proves that, at least to me, but I would be sure of her innocence even without it. She hated Dorsey, and she could well have wished him dead. Under certain extreme circumstances, I could even imagine her killing him, be it to protect herself or others. But the brutality of the murder, the total disregard for the dignity of human life, clears Laurie beyond any doubt.
    I get into bed, but barely sleep at all. I keep thinking of Laurie in that cell, and on some level it feels as if falling asleep in the comfort of the bed we share would be like abandoning her.
    I’m up watching the news by five-thirty in the morning, but it isn’t until an hour later that I discover the “sunrise scam.” The weather guy has proclaimed that six-thirty-one is the moment of sunrise, yet I can now bear witness to the fact that at that exact time it is already light out, and has been light for fifteen minutes.
    Does no one check these things out? Do they think the light is coming from another source, perhaps helping our eyes adjust to the upcoming sudden onset of sunlight? Or are we being deceived by someone, maybe the tanning or suntan lotion industrial complex?
    And no matter what the reason for the deception, what is the value of knowing when sunrise is? Wouldn’t we be better served by knowing when “lightrise” is? And are there any other idiots like me, up at this hour and paying attention to this nonsense, so as to take their minds off of something important, something that’s gnawing at their insides?
    How the hell am I going to help Laurie? And what if I can’t?
    I get up and take Tara for a two-hour walk. As always, she can sense my mood and mirrors it. She doesn’t do anything to distract me from my thoughts; even when a squirrel passes, she doesn’t try to go after it. I’m able to focus on the job ahead, and by the time we get home, I’m ready.
    I shower and get to the courthouse at ten-thirty. As I did with Oscar, I meet with Laurie in an anteroom and prep her for the hearing. I tell her basically the same things, but I hug her considerably more than I recall hugging Oscar.
    We are led into the courtroom on time, and Kevin is waiting at the defense table. Dylan and his colleagues are already in place, though this time he forgets to wish me good luck. The courtroom is packed with perhaps twice as many people and press as when Oscar was playing the lead.
    Judge Timmerman once again handles the hearing. She asks if there is anything to be discussed before we begin, and Dylan immediately demonstrates just how contentious this is going to be.
    “Yes, Your Honor,” he says, “we believe that it is a conflict for Mr. Carpenter to be representing this defendant, and we ask that he be removed as counsel.”
    “On what grounds?” she asks.
    “As you know, he represented Oscar Garcia when Mr. Garcia was charged with the same crime. Mr. Garcia may well be a witness in this