In his opening statement, the U.S. Attorney assured the jury and the courtroom at large that what they were dealing with here was very certainly a kidnapper, maybe even a baby killer, a man who had assaulted women in the past, killed men without batting an eye, a liar, a Communist, and a threat to all Americans. He told them that little Teddy Patterson had been torn from his parents' home in the middle of the night, in the dark, and the people who cared for him had been chloroformed and bound and gagged and might easily have been killed as well, and the child had disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again, and was probably dead, buried somewhere in a ditch, in a field, but for those who loved him, gone forever.

Marielle clutched her chair as she listened to the words, and he seemed to drone on for hours about what an evil man Charles had always been, what a sweet man Teddy would have become, and how we had all been robbed because this one child had died, and for nothing. And if it was true, if he was never to return, then Marielle had to agree with him. But it was still so painful to believe him gone for a lifetime.

Tom Armour's statement to them was only slightly more reassuring. He told them that Charles Delauney was a decent, honest, in some ways deeply troubled man, who had lost his own son nine years before, in fact his unborn daughter too, his entire family, and knowing how great the pain of that had been, he would never have hurt any child, or taken any man's children from him. He had fought honestly in the Great War and in the fight in Spain since then. He was no Communist. He was a man who believed in freedom. Educated, intelligent, decent, yet heartbroken by the shattering of his youthful dreams, he was admittedly misguided in some of his behavior, or even his words, but this was not a man who could kidnap anyone's son. And the defense was going to prove that he hadn't. Furthermore, he reminded everyone, Mr. Delauney was on trial for kidnapping here, and not for murder. And if the jurors listened to the evidence carefully, he was sure they would acquit him. As he spoke to them, Tom Armour walked slowly before the jury, looking each one in the eye, speaking directly to them, not in a condescending way, but as equals, as friends, making sure they understood and believed him. He was masterful at what he did, and it was fascinating to watch him. He also explained to them that the U.S. Attorney would be presenting his case first, from beginning to end, and Tom would be cross-examining his witnesses, of course, but he would not present his case until the prosecution had completed theirs. And he reminded them again that it was up to the prosecution to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Charles Delauney had kidnapped the Patterson boy, and if the prosecution could not convince them of that, whether they liked Charles or not as a man, they had to acquit him. But Tom assured them that by the time he finished his case, they would understand that he had been wronged by these charges.

There was a long silence when they were both through, and Judge Morrison instructed the U.S. Attorney to call his first witness, and Marielle was stunned when she heard her name. She had no idea he was intending to call her as his first witness. She raised an eyebrow as she walked past John, and he tried to look reassuring, but he was worried about what Palmer was going to do. He knew what had turned up in the calls he made, and none of it was very damaging. But he had no idea what Palmer and Malcolm had dug up without him.

She took the stand, and carefully smoothed down the plain black dress she had worn. She nervously crossed her legs as she glanced around the courtroom, and then uncrossed them again. And all the while, Bill Palmer strutted around the courtroom and watched her. He watched her as though there were something strange about her, as though he were suspicious of her, and more than once he glanced from her to the defendant, as though there was something he didn't understand about them. It was as though he was trying to convey something unpleasant or unsavory to the jury. And what he was doing was making Marielle very nervous. She glanced at the judge, then at Malcolm, who looked away, and at John, who looked serious as he watched her, and she waited for Palmer's first question.

“Please state your name.'

“Marielle Patterson.”

“Your full name please.”

“Marielle Johnson Patterson. Marielle Anne Johnson Patterson,” she smiled, but he did not smile in answer.

“Is there more?”

“No, sir.” Two women on the jury smiled, and Marielle felt a little better. But her hands were shaking terribly as she held them in her lap where no one could see them.

“Have you ever had another name, Mrs. Patterson?” And then she knew what he was asking.

“Yes.” Why was he doing this? What would it help? She didn't understand.

“Would you please tell us that name?” He boomed out the words as though to frighten her, and she couldn't see Malcolm's eyes.

“Delauney,” she said quietly.

“Could you say that a little louder please, so the jurors can hear you.”

She flushed bright red and said it louder for all to hear while Charles watched her in sympathy. “Delauney.” He felt sorry for her suddenly. Sorrier even than John Taylor, because he suspected what was coming. Palmer was smarter than they had thought. He was going to discredit her early on, so anything she said later would be worth nothing. He wasn't going to take the chance she would question Charles's guilt in public, and weaken his case in front of the jury.

“Are you related to the defendant in any way?”

“I was married to him.”

“When was that?”

“In 1926, in Paris. I was eighteen years old.”

“And what kind of marriage was it?” He pretended to be friendly to her, he even smiled. But she knew now that he was going to destroy her. “Was it a big wedding? A small one?”

“We eloped.”

“I see…” He looked disturbed, as though somehow she had done something wrong, and he was sorry. “And how long were you married?”

“For five years actually. Until 1931.”

“And how did the marriage end? In divorce?”

“Yes, that's correct.” There was a thin film of perspiration covering her forehead, and she prayed that she wouldn't faint or vomit.

“Would you mind telling us why, Mrs. Delauney…sorry, Patterson…” He pretended to slip but she knew he had done it on purpose, just to emphasize her having been married to Charles, and yes she did mind telling him why, but she knew she had no choice. “Would you mind telling us the reason for the divorce?”

“I… we… we lost our son. And neither of us ever recovered from the shock.” She said it very quietly, and very calmly, and John Taylor was proud of her and so was Charles. Both of them felt their hearts torn in half, watching her, but she didn't know that. “I suppose you could say it destroyed the marriage.”

“Is that the only reason why you divorced Mr. Delauney?”

“Yes. We were very happy before that.”

“I see.” He nodded again sympathetically and she began to hate him. “And where were you when you got the divorce?”

She misunderstood his question, but Taylor didn't. “In Switzerland.”

“Were you there for any particular reason?” And then she knew. He was trying to discredit her completely. But he couldn't. If losing three children hadn't killed her yet, she knew nothing would. Not this man, not this court, and not these proceedings. She held her head high and looked directly at him.

“Yes, I was in a hospital there.”

“You were ill?” She wasn't going to give him more than she had to. And he knew just what he wanted, and why, but so did she now.

“I had a nervous breakdown when our son died.”

“Was there any particular reason for that? Was his death unusually traumatic? A long illness… a terrible disease?” Her eyes filled with tears as she listened to him, but she wouldn't give in to them. She brushed them away and spoke through trembling lips as everyone in the courtroom waited.

“He drowned.” That was it. That was all she had to say. That was what it said on the death certificate. Andre Charles Delauney, two years five months, death by drowning.

“And were you responsible for this…accident…” He accentuated the word almost as though she had planned it, and Charles was frantically whispering something to Tom, who shot to his feet immediately, with an objection.

“Objection, Your Honor. Counsel is leading the witness, and implying that the child's death was her fault. That is not for us to decide here. Mrs. Patterson is not on trial here, my client is.”

Judge Morrison raised an eyebrow at both men, surprised at Tom Armour's kindness. “Objection sustained. A little less zeal please, Counsel.”

“Sorry, Your Honor. I'll rephrase my question. Did you feel responsible for the child's death?” But that was worse, because now they would never know if it actually was her fault or not and there was no way to save it.

“Yes, I did.”

“And that was why you had the nervous breakdown?”

“I believe so.”

“You were in a mental hospital there?”

“Yes.” Her voice was growing softer and Charles felt sick, but so did John Taylor. Malcolm Patterson looked straight ahead, with an inscrutable expression.

“You were in effect mentally ill, is that right?”

“I suppose so. I was very upset.”

“For a long time?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you there?”

“Two years.”

“More than two years?”

“A little.” But Tom Armour was on his feet again.

“May I remind the court again that Mrs. Patterson is not on trial here.”