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Summary
“We didn't exactly part as friends,” Olivia pointed out dryly.
“No, I guess you didn’t. But you used to be. When Mr. Barba left the DA’s office, you said it felt like losing the closest friend you’d ever had.”
“That was… then. Before.”
“The Wheatley trial.”
“Yes.”
“The one that Mr. Barba didn’t win, as I recall.”
“Not for the lack of trying.”
“Are you certain?”
That took her off guard, like a sudden gut-punch. For a long moment all she could do was stare, her mind aswirl in a blizzard of old hurts, unspoken doubts.
“It doesn’t matter why he did it,” she heard herself saying as if from somewhere far away. “It doesn’t matter what he did. I asked him not to defend Wheatley.”
It was like a mantra, she suddenly realized, one she had been spinning for four years. It used to help. It used to ground her.
It used to remind her why.