"I was convicted of criminally negligent homicide. But I wasn't guilty of it," Jack announced matter-of-factly. He poured himself more of the fragrant coffee. No one said anything for several long moments. Jack sighed. "I used to be married. My wife, Fiona, loved to ski as much as I did. Don't think I'm arrogant, Goldy, I'm just a really good skier. Fiona was more like low-intermediate. One day, we both had too much to drink at lunch. She wanted us to race to an out-of-bounds area beside a black run. It has a great view, and she'd been there once with her son." His voice had flattened, as if he were reciting his story under hypnosis.

"Jack, don't make yourself do this," Eileen implored.

Jack held up a hand. "Please, hon, you wanted advice from Goldy. She needs to hear what happened." He took a deep breath. "Fiona and I got to the overlook. A minute later, somebody crashed through the trees and attacked us. Fiona lunged for me and I tried to catch her, but she slipped away somehow. The attacker was wearing a ski mask. Whoever it was, was strong and fast. He or she hit me with a rock and I passed out." He stopped. "Then the attacker must have pushed Fiona over the cliff. Anyway, my wife. . . was killed."

"And you were convicted of homicide?" I asked incredulously.

"They had to have somebody to blame. The prosecutor said I shouldn't have let Fiona ski drunk, that I shouldn't have taken her down such a dangerous run. She had grabbed my hand when we were trying to defend ourselves against the attacker, and my mitten was by her body when the ski patrol came. They trampled the snow so much, they couldn't trace our attacker." He sighed again. "It was a day of unstable snow, too. But that didn't matter. The police didn't find enough evidence to charge anyone else, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. I served a year, was granted parole six months ago. . . I had a record of good behavior." He snorted cynically.

I felt an ominous tingling at the base of my spine. "If you were granted parole six months ago, what does this have to do with Doug Portman?"

Eileen narrowed her eyes at me. "So you haven't faced the parole scenario with The Jerk yet, have you?"

"No," I confessed. "Why?"