I felt my jaw tighten.
“He can ask whatever he wants.”
“Carter, listen to me. I have read your file twice. There are gaps that the state’s attorney will notice. If there is something you have not told me, now is the time.”
I stared at a water stain on the ceiling and tried to breathe.
“I have carried this for 20 years, Diane. I have never even told my closest friends. I don’t know whether I can say it in a room full of strangers.”
“You may have to. The judge may need to hear it more than anyone.”
Before I could answer, the bailiff’s voice rang through the door, calling our case.
At the end of the hallway, the courtroom doors swung open.
Daniel, the state’s attorney, rose from his table with the calm posture of a man who had done this hundreds of times.
