“No,” I say. “Monosyllables are more her speed these days, at least when it comes to me. But, in general, yes. In general, she is a star.”

I look up and see Nicholas’s face. He looks angry. I’m not sure why. Is he mad that I have done something to make Bailey not like me the way I wish she would? Or is he mad he has never been given the chance himself?

I hand him back his photograph. He places it back on his desk, moving it obsessively to the place where it was before, keeping each piece of her that he has exactly where he can find it. It feels like a bit of magical thinking, like if he holds on to her just so, that will help him find her again.

“So, Hannah, what can I do for you, exactly?”

“Well, I am hoping we can come to an agreement, Mr. Bell.”

“Nicholas, please,” he says.

“Nicholas,” I say.

“And no.”

I take a breath, moving forward in my seat. “You didn’t even hear what I have to say yet.”

“What I mean is no, that’s not why you’re here, to come to an agreement,” he says. “We both know that. You’re here in the hopes that I’m not who everyone is telling you I am.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “I’m not interested in who was right or who was wrong here.”

“That’s good,” he says, “because I don’t think you’d like the real answer. People don’t tend to work that way. We have our opinion and we filter information into a paradigm that supports it.”

“Not a big believer that people can change their minds?” I say.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Not usually, but you’re a lawyer,” I say. “Isn’t convincing people a large part of the job?”

He smiles. “I think that you’re confusing me with a prosecutor,” he says. “A defense attorney, at least a good defense attorney, never tries to convince anyone of anything. We do the opposite. We remind everyone you can’t know anything for sure.”

Nicholas reaches for the brown box on his desk, a smoke box. He opens the lid and takes out a cigarette.