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when sung properly. If I was any kind of a vocalist, it might have worked, but I wasn’t, nor was my voice a source of calm to her. That, in the end, was the real problem. It wasn’t what I was saying or doing, but the fact that it was me, not Talia, saying and doing it.
    And then it just happened; she ran out of steam. Her eyelids fluttered and she was asleep, her head resting in the crook of my arm. She looked like her mother, the almond shape of her eyes, the tiny nose and full lips. Asleep, at peace, she had Talia’s placid expression, too.
    Time passed. Her tiny, warm body rose and fell, short breaths escaping from her mouth. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Until I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
    We got two hours like that, sleeping together on the couch. I was startled awake by her stirring, a moment of panic as I realized I’d been responsible for holding her while I slept, never a good idea. My head had fallen forward during sleep, and now I had a crick in my neck as a reward.
    Once Emily realized who was holding her, it was back to the horror movie. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I tried to sweet-talk her, which never worked on any other female in my life, so I don’t know why I thought it would now.
    “I’ll take her.” Talia was at the landing, looking in on us in the family room. “You need sleep.” Her hair was all over the place and her right cheek showed a crease line from her pillow.
    “You need it more,” I noted. I had no idea how she could have awakened on her own, at her level of sleep deprivation.
    Emily wailed at the sound of her mother’s voice, but as soon as Talia had expertly scooped her from my lap, the cry shut off in an instant, like an alarm clock after hitting the snooze button.
    “I don’t know how to do that,” I said.
    Talia kissed Emily’s forehead and tucked her into the nape of her neck. “She just doesn’t know you yet, that’s all. She will.” She put her hand on my cheek. “She will, Jase.”

8
     
    I LEFT HOME THAT MORNING ESTIMATING THAT COURT would adjourn early on Friday, and that I’d be able to hit the road with Talia and Emily by no later than five to go to her parents. Evening rain was predicted, she’d told me, so the earlier the better.
    Court actually adjourned even earlier than that. Chris Moody, re-directing Joey Espinoza, had wanted to run through the recorded conversations of Hector several times, stopping at various intervals to ask Joey, “Did it sound to you like the defendant was joking there ? Did that sound like sarcasm?” That kind of thing. But I made the point that Joey had testified on cross-examination yesterday that they sometimes misunderstood each other’s sarcastic exchanges, so how could Joey really say if Hector was kidding or not? It became enough of a distraction that Chris Moody dropped it altogether, opting to make his pitch in closing argument.
    When Chris Moody sat down, he looked awful. He’d had a rough night, I imagined. His star witness hadn’t done well, and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do to rehabilitate him. This case was far more important to him than it was to anyone else in the courtroom, save Hector. This, I assume, was going to be his crowning achievement before he went for the big bucks in a major law firm, not starting as a junior partner like me, but at the equity level, the really big bucks. But if this went the other way on him, it would be a pretty black mark. And at this point, I figured it was even money, at best, that Chris Moody would convict Hector Almundo.
    After court recessed at two o’clock, we retreated to the law firm. Hector’s spirits were relatively high. Paul tried to dampen enthusiasm, but I could see it in his eyes, as well. The prosecution hadn’t proven Hector’s knowledge of, much less involvement in, this conspiracy. There was no concrete evidence that he had any idea what was taking place. Joey Espinoza simply was not credible, and the tapes reeked of