4th of July

Chapter 103

IT WAS A GUT shot, and the shock resonated from my solar plexus throughout my body. I felt my stomach drop and bile rise into my throat. I had envisioned losing this case in terms of a fanciful, theoretical aftermath: working at street fairs, reading books on the deck of some beach house, la-de-da. But I hadn’t taken into account the full emotional impact of the reality of losing.

Beside me, Yuki squealed, “Oh, my God, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have said ‘find her guilty of being a good cop, blah blah.’ It was a flourish! I thought it was good, but I was wrong.”

“You did a great job,” I said, my voice as heavy as stone. “This has nothing to do with what you said.”

I wrapped my arms around myself and lowered my head. Mickey and Yuki were talking together. I heard Mickey assure her that the fat lady hadn’t yet sung, but the voice in my mind was a needle stuck in an old-fashioned record groove.

One question kept repeating.

How could this be?

How could this be?