Frannie Hardy, on the stand before him now, crying, did not make his heart go all soft. True enough, she was quite lovely, well dressed, with striking green eyes and bright red hair, and if he’d been anywhere but in a courtroom with her, he might have had other thoughts. But not now. She’d brought her troubles upon herself and now she was paying the price.

She wasn’t sobbing. Scott was sure these were tears of anger. He didn’t care.

‘You have to let me make my phone call.’

‘No, ma’am, I’m sorry. You’re staying here.’

‘You told me we’d be finished by now.’

Scott shrugged. ‘I said we might be. It was possible. I thought we would be, but you’re not answering my questions. That’s slowing things down.’

It was already half an hour past when she was supposed to have left to pick up her children. She’d been on the stand for two hours.

‘Let’s go over this one more time, all right?’

‘I’m not saying anything until you let me use the phone.’

It had devolved into a pitched battle of wills, and Scott held the high ground. He made the rules in this room, and Mrs Hardy was going to play by them.

Scott had long since abandoned the casual approach. He was standing at one end of the front table so he could look now at Mrs Hardy and now at his jurors.

‘Mrs Hardy, you’re putting me in an awkward position. As it stands now, if you don’t answer my questions you’re going to force me to go to a judge in the Superior Court and get a contempt citation issued against you. You might very well get thrown in jail. Do you understand that? If that happens, if it gets to there, then you’ll get your phone call to your attorney. But I’m not letting you off this stand in the middle of your testimony. We can be finished here in ten minutes if you cooperate, but if you don’t, it’s going to be a long afternoon.