David smiled. "Everything, including my best friend."

On a Monday morning, David received a package from the prosecutor's office listing the state's discovery. As David read it, his spirits sank.

Sandra was watching him, concerned. "What is it?"

"Look at this. He's bringing in a lot of heavyweight medical experts to testify against MPD."

"How are you going to handle that?" Sandra asked.

"We're going to admit that Ashley was at the scenes when the murders took place, but that the murders were actually committed by an alter ego." Can I persuade a jury to believe that?

* * *

Five days before the trial was to begin, David received a telephone call saying that Judge Williams wanted to meet with him.

David walked into Jesse Quiller's office. "Jesse, what can you tell me about Judge Williams?"

Jesse leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "Tessa Williams... Were you ever a Boy Scout, David?"

"Yes..."

"Do you remember the Boy Scout motto,—'be prepared'?"

"Sure."

"When you walk into Tessa Williams's courtroom, be prepared. She's brilliant. She came up the hard way. Her folks were Mississippi sharecroppers. She went through college on a scholarship, and the people in her hometown were so proud of her, they raised the money to put her through law school. There's a rumor that she turned down a big appointment in Washington because she likes it where she is. She's a legend."

"Interesting," David said.

"The trial is going to be in Santa Clara County?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll have my old friend Mickey Brennan prosecuting."

"Tell me about him."

"He's a feisty Irishman, tough on the inside, tough on the outside. Brennan comes from a long line of over-achievers. His father runs a huge publishing business; his mother's a doctor; his sister is a college professor. Brennan was a football star in his college days, and he was at the top of his law class." He leaned forward. "He's good, David. Be careful. His trick is to disarm witnesses and then move in for the kill. He likes to blind-side them.... Why does Judge Williams want to see you?"

"I have no idea. The call just said she wants to discuss the Patterson case with me."

Jesse Quiller frowned. "That's unusual. When are you meeting with her?"

"Wednesday morning."

"Watch your back."

"Thanks, Jesse. I will."

The superior courthouse in Santa Clara County is a white, four-story building on North First Street. Directly inside the courthouse entrance is a desk manned by a uniformed guard; there is a metal detector, a railing alongside and an elevator. There are seven courtrooms m the building, each one presided over by a judge and staff.

At ten o'clock Wednesday morning, David Singer was ushered into the chambers of Judge Tessa Williams, in the room with her was Mickey Brennan. The leading prosecutor from the district attorney's office was in his fifties, a short, burly man with a slight brogue. Tessa Williams was in her late forties, a slim, attractive African-American woman with a crisp, authoritative manner.

"Good morning, Mr. Singer. I'm Judge Williams. This is Mr. Brennan."

The two men shook hands.

"Sit down, Mr. Singer. I want to talk about the Patterson case. According to the records, you've filed a plea of not guilty and not guilty by reason of insanity?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

Judge Williams said, "I brought you two together because think we can save a lot of time and save the state a great deal of expense. I'm usually against plea bargaining, but in this case, think it's justified."

David was listening, puzzled.

The judge turned to Brennan. "I've read the preliminary hearing transcript, and see no reason for this case to go to trial. I'd like the state to waive the death penalty and accept a guilty plea with no chance of parole."

David said, "Wait a minute. That's out of the question!"

They both turned to look at him. "Mr. Singer—"

"My client is not guilty. Ashley Patterson passed a lie detector test that proves—"

"That doesn't prove anything, and as you well know it's not admissible in court. Because of all the publicity, this is going to be a long and messy trial."

"I'm sure that—"

"I've been practicing law a long time, Mr. Singer. I've heard the whole basket of legal pleas. I've heard pleas of self-defense—that's an acceptable plea; murder by reason of temporary insanity—that's a reasonable plea; diminished capacity.... But I'll tell you what don't believe in, Counselor. 'Not guilty because didn't commit the crime, my alter ego did it.' To use a term you might not find in Blackstone, that's 'bullshit.' Your client either committed the crimes or she didn't. If you change your plea to guilty, we can save a lot of—"

"No, Your Honor, won't."

Judge Williams studied David a moment. "You're very stubborn. A lot of people find that an admirable quality." She leaned forward in her chair. "I don't."

"Your Honor—"

"You're forcing us into a trial that's going to last at least three months—maybe longer."

Brennan nodded. "I agree."

"I'm sorry that you feel—"

"Mr. Singer, I'm here to do you a favor. If we try your client, she's going to die."

"Hold on! You're prejudging this case without—"

"Prejudging it? Have you seen the evidence?"

"Yes, I—"

"For God's sake. Counselor, Ashley Patterson's DNA and fingerprints are at every crime scene. I've never seen a more clear-cut case of guilt. If you insist on going ahead with this, it could turn into a circus. Well, I'm not going to let that happen. I don't like circuses in my court. Let's dispose of this case here and now. I'm going to ask you once more, will you plead your client to life without parole?"

David said stubbornly, "No."

She was glaring at him. "Right. I'll see you next week."

He had made an enemy.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SAN Jose had quickly taken on the atmosphere of a carnival town. Media from all over the world were pouring in. Every hotel was booked, and some of the members of the press were forced to take rooms in the outlying towns of Santa Clara, Sunnyvale and Palo Alto. David was besieged by reporters.

"Mr. Singer, tell us about the case. Are you pleading your client not guilty...?"

"Are you going to put Ashley Patterson on the stand...?"

"Is it true that the district attorney was willing to plea-bargain?"

"Is Dr. Patterson going to testify for his daughter...?"

"My magazine will pay fifty thousand dollars for an interview with your client..."

* * *

Mickey Brennan was also pursued by the media.

"Mr. Brennan, would you say a few words about the trial?"

Brennan turned and smiled at the television cameras. "Yes. I can sum up the trial in five words. 'We're going to win it.' No further comment."

"Wait! Do you think she's insane...?"

"Is the state going to ask for the death penalty...?"

"Did you call it an open-and-shut case...?"

David rented an office in San Jose close to the court-house, where he could interview his witnesses and prepare them for the trial. He had decided that Sandra would work out of Quiller's office in San Francisco until the trial started. Dr. Salem had arrived in San Jose.

"I want you to hypnotize Ashley again," David said. "Let's get all the information we can from her and the alters before the trial starts."

They met Ashley in a holding room at the county detention center. She was trying hard to conceal her nervousness. To David, she looked like a deer trapped in the headlights of a Juggernaut.

"Morning, Ashley. You remember Dr. Salem?" Ashley nodded.

"He's going to hypnotize you again. Will that be all right?"

Ashley said, "He's going to talk to the... the others?"