Genuine Lies

thought. That had come through the blood. That had come through Eve.
    At a signal from Lincoln, Paul leaned closer, took both of Julia’s hands in his. “It’s time to go in. I’ll be sitting right behind you.”
    She nodded, her fingers creeping up to touch the brooch she’d pinned to her lapel. The scales of justice.
    The courtroom was jammed. Among the faces of strangers she saw the familiar. CeeCee sent Julia a quick, encouraging smile. Beside her niece, Travers sat rigid, her face set and fierce. Nina stared down at her linked fingers, unwilling or unable to meet Julia’s eyes. Delrickio, flanked by his steely-eyed guards, studied her impassively. Gloria’s eyes gleamed with tears as she twisted a handkerchief in her hands and huddled under her husband’s protective arm.
    Maggie, her lipstick chewed off until it left only a thin line of red around her mouth, looked up, then away. Kenneth leaned over her to murmur to Victor.
    It was that look, that tortured, grieving look that had Julia faltering. She wanted to stop, to scream out her innocence, her rage, and her terror. She could only move forward and take her seat.
    “Remember,” Lincoln was saying, “this is only a preliminary hearing. It’s to determine if there’s enough evidence for a trial.”
    “Yes, I know,” she said quietly. “It’s only the beginning.”
    “Julia.”
    She tensed at Victor’s voice and made herself turn. He’d aged. In a matter of weeks the years had caught up with him, pulling down the skin under his eyes, digging lines deep around his mouth. Julia put a hand on the rail that separatedthem. It was the closest she believed either of them could come to reaching out.
    “I don’t know what to say to you.” He pulled air into his lungs and let it trickle out.
If
I had known, if she had told me … about you, things would have been different.”
    “Things weren’t meant to be different, Victor. I would have been sorry, very sorry, if she had used me to change them.”
    “I’d like to—” Go back, he thought. Thirty years, thirty days. Both were equally impossible. “I couldn’t stand behind you before.” He looked down, lifted his hand, laid it on hers. “I’d like you to know I’ll stand behind you now. And the boy, Brandon.”
    “He’s—he’s missed having a grandfather. When this is over, we’ll talk. All of us.”
    He managed a nod before his hand slid away from hers. “All rise!”
    A buzzing filled her ears when the courtroom rose to its feet. She watched the judge stride in, take his place behind the bench. Why, he looks like Pat O’Brien, she thought foolishly. All ruddy and round and Irish. Surely Pat O’Brien would know the truth when he heard it.
    The D.A. was a wiry, energetic-looking man with sideburns of gray on his close-cropped hair. Obviously he didn’t take the warning about sun exposure seriously, for his tan was deep and smooth, making his pale blue eyes gleam in contrast.
    He had the voice of an evangelist. Without hearing the words, Julia listened to it rise and fall.
    Reports were placed in evidence. Autopsy, forensic. The pictures, of course. As Julia watched the prosecutor present them, the image of Eve sprawled on the rug froze in her mind. The murder weapon. The suit Julia had worn that was streaked with a rusty-looking stain that was dried blood.
    She watched the experts take the stand, then step down. Their words didn’t matter. Lincoln obviously thought differently because he would rise and object from time to time, and he chose his own carefully in cross-examination.
    But the words didn’t matter, Julia thought. The pictures said it all. Eve was dead.
    When the D.A. called Travers, she shuffled up to the stand as she had shuffled her way up and down the hallways of Eve’s home. As if she were reluctant to expend the energy it took to lift one foot, then the other.
    She’d scraped her hair back and was wearing a plain, working-class dress of unrelieved black. She clutched her purse with both hands and stared straight ahead.
    Even when the prosecutor led her gently through the early questions, she didn’t relax. Her voice only became more harsh as she explained her relationship with Eve.
    “And as a trusted friend and employee,” the prosecutor continued. “Did you have occasion to travel with Miss Benedict to Switzerland in …” He reviewed his notes before he stated the date.
    “Yes.”
    “What was the purpose of this trip, Ms. Travers?” “Eve was