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reference whatsoever to David’s past association with his wife.
    â€˜You asked for a criminal defence attorney, Doctor, and that’s exactly what we are. If you have an issue with my knowing your wife then . . .’
    â€˜This was an accident, Mr Cavanaugh.’ Logan had stood then, and started to pace the room. ‘Why would I have an issue?’
    â€˜Fair enough,’ David had answered. ‘So if it’s a matter of payment then I am sure we can work something out.’ But David had been sure that Logan’s objections had nothing to do with the money. ‘The thing is,’ David had continued, ‘it is now late Friday night and your arraignment will be set for Monday. You have the weekend to get us up to speed so that you have adequate representation in court. Now, if after that time you want to go with someone from the public defender’s office then that’s fine. But under the circumstances, I suggest you allow us to get you through this all-important first stage. For your sake, and for that of your children.’
    And that was when Jeffrey Logan had gone silent, lifting a single finger as if indicating he needed a moment to think.
    So here they sat, David staring at the man who seemed all too capable of helping others make decisions, without any inkling of how to make one for himself.
    â€˜All right,’ said the doctor at last, moving back to his plush single sofa chair to take a sip of water from a plastic cup one of the paramedics had supplied for him about a half an hour ago. ‘I’ll repeat to you what I told the police and you may represent me at the arraignment. But beyond that I . . .’
    â€˜We understand,’ said David as the doctor left his statement hanging. ‘We can take this one step at a time. The police are waiting to take you into custody so I am afraid there is little we can do tonight bar hear the original statement you gave to the detectives, and then, tomorrow, we’ll have some fresh questions, discuss things in greater detail, build a strategy for Monday.’
    Truth be told, David was more than keen to learn exactly what had gone down in this house mere hours before – but he knew better than to press, at least for now.
    â€˜All right,’ said Logan, now taking a breath. ‘But you are not going to like it – the statement, I mean. I shot your old college friend, Mr Cavanaugh, in an accident that shall haunt me forever – and
you too
I would suggest, given the scene we were all just exposed to.’
    In that moment, as Logan met David’s eye, a look of probing curiosity on his face, David sensed the famous psychologist was looking for a reaction from him – some sort of emotional response to having just seen hisformer friend blitzed by a bullet powerful enough to take out the biggest animals on the planet.
    â€˜Accidents happen,’ said David, the only thing he could think of to say.
    â€˜Not as often as you would think,’ said Logan. ‘But, yes, in this case . . .’ He paused. ‘Bottom line, Mr Cavanaugh, Miss Davis,’ he continued after a beat, ‘and I cannot stress this enough – your role in this matter is an easy one. For I killed my wife, and when it comes down to it, there is nothing for you to defend.’
    â€˜Why don’t you let us be the judge of that, Doctor,’ said Sara, perhaps reading David’s discomfort, instinctively stepping in. ‘No matter what, we’re here to help.’
    With a half smile that suggested gratitude, or in the very least some sort of satisfaction at having established his point, Logan replied, ‘I know you are,’ while shaking his head in disagreement at the very same time.
    Just as Stephanie did, thought David, when he’d suggested they catch up a mere three months ago. Mixed signals, they were more common than you think.
    Half an hour later, David and Sara watched as their