“Yes.”
“Do you think I — committed a murder?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think I may have?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what’s holding you back?”
“Is something holding me back?”
“Donald, I wish you wouldn’t do this for me.”
She was sitting at my feet now, her fingers interlaced across my knee. “I think you’re a very wonderful person.”
“I’m not.”