“I’m background noise, the puppy the Quinns rescued from the gutter. My role is to make them look decent, open, magnanimous. Lawrence will deny everything Diana said. He’ll call it a baseless accusation, and it’ll be one more way to undermine her credibility.”

“I wish you were right.” Haggerty starts the car. “Cassie, Lawrence is desperate. Desperate men do desperate things. Come on, I’ll take you to the hotel. You can pick up your car and drive to Connecticut.”

Haggerty is the one who’s desperate. He’ll say anything to get me to vilify Lawrence. But he doesn’t know Lawrence, not like I do. “Sorry,” I tell him. “I have no choice.”

56

IN THE COURTROOM, I SIT ON A BENCH IN THE BACK, AWAY from my family. Around me, strangers are gawking, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of my face. But I don’t care. I’m fine, fine, fine. Steeling myself, I focus on Lawrence’s testimony.

After swearing him in, DeFiore asked preliminary questions, mostly about Lawrence’s occupation and marriage. Now he’s homed in on Billy.

“Your youngest son, Billy, had medical issues, correct?”

Yes, Lawrence replies, Billy was born prematurely. Yes, he had heart complications. Yes, he failed to thrive. Yes, he had a stutter. Yes, he was bullied. Yes, his early life was challenging.

“Was this difficult for you?” DeFiore asks.

“It’s excruciating for any parent to watch his child struggle. It affects the whole family. We also had other stressors. Billy was nearly two when a dear friend, my surrogate father, passed away. His daughter, Cassandra, moved in with us to help alleviate pressure on his wife, Cassie’s mother. Sadly, she died in a car accident two years later. So, in addition to Billy’s ongoing medical care, we were dealing with Cassie’s grief and helping her acclimate to a new life.”

“Is this typical for your social set? Raising someone else’s child?”

Lawrence chuckles. “Very atypical. But my wife is an atypical woman—gracious, kind, and generous beyond words.” Searching the gallery, he fixes on Eleanor and smiles. I can’t see her face from where I’m sitting, though I’m sure she’s performing admirably for the jury. “Cassie was a precocious child. Losing her parents had lasting repercussions. We were very concerned about her mental health. But together, we survived this terrible time, and became stronger. I’m proud of all three of my children.”

Lawrence touches his eye, as if wiping away tears. Despite the heavy concealer, the red spot where Billy hit him pulses like a siren. “Three Musketeers. That’s what we called them.” His voice catches. “When they were little, I mean.”

“Tell us about your own childhood, Mr. Quinn,” DeFiore says.

“Objection,” Anderson says. “Irrelevant.”

“It speaks to the defendant’s upbringing and home life.”

“I’ll allow it.” Judge McKay turns to Lawrence. “Make it brief.”