“So was I,” said Waters. She picked a gold pen from several resting in a cloisonné cup, balanced it between the index fingers of both hands. The office was a jewel box, everything arranged with care. “All this time you really thought I might be . . . how strange.” Weak smile. “So I’m reborn, huh?”

The pen dropped and clattered to the desk. She snatched it up, placed it back in the cup.

“Ma’am, could you please tell us everything you remember about that night.”

“I did try to find out where Janie was. Called her father—you’ve met him?”

“He’s dead too, ma’am.”

“How’d he die?”

“Car accident.”

“Driving drunk?”

“Yes.”

“No surprise there,” said Waters. “What a lowlife, always plastered. He couldn’t stand me, and the feeling was mutual. Probably because I knew he’d grope me if he had a chance, so I never gave him one—always made sure to meet Janie outside her building.”

“He came on to you?” said Milo.

“I never gave him a chance, but his intentions were obvious—leering, undressing me mentally. Plus, I knew what he’d done to Janie.”

“He abused Janie sexually?”

“Only when he was drunk,” said Waters, in mocking singsong. “She never told me until shortly before she was . . . before I last saw her. I think what made her talk about it was she’d had a bad experience a month or so before that. She was hitching, got picked up by some deviant who took her to a hotel downtown, tied her up, had his way with her. When she first told me about it, she didn’t seem very upset. Kind of blasé, really, and at first I didn’t believe her because Janie was always making things up. Then she pulled up her jeans and her top and showed me the rope marks where he’d tied up her ankles and her wrists. Her neck, too. When I saw that, I said, ‘Jesus, he could’ve strangled you.’ And she just clammed up and refused to say any more about it.”

“What did she tell you about the man who did this?”

“That he was young and nice-looking and drove a great car—that’s why she said she went with him. But to tell the truth, she probably would’ve gone with anyone. A lot of the time Janie was out of it—stoned or drunk. She didn’t have much in the way of inhibitions.”

She removed her glasses, played with the sidepieces, glanced at the photos of her family. “Some lawyer I am, running my mouth. Before we go any further, I need your assurance that anything I tell you be kept confidential. My husband’s a semipublic figure.”

“What does he do?”

“Jim’s an aide to the governor. Liaison to the Highway Department. I keep my maiden name for work, but anything unsavory could still be traced back to him.”