“A large part of the appeal in transferring here to the University of Virginia was the prospect of working for the Innocence Project. I’ve been reading al about your work with Michael Dandridge, and the approach you’ve taken with the case is real y inspiring.”
No reaction. Hannah hurried on. “I’ve been working on an accelerated timetable in Maine, so I’m ahead of where I need to be. I thought I might be helpful if some of your more experienced students are struggling with heavy class loads. I could pick up some of the slack.”
“What about your mother?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t you have to spend time with your mother? Given her il ness?”
“Mom’s doing much better now. She’s very independent.”
Hannah’s throat tightened at the lie. “I’l need to see her at weekends for a few hours. To catch up. Otherwise I’l be free.”
Her words appeared to be having little impact. His eyes were on the papers in front of him.
“Hannah. Al of the kids here are bright, they’re al hard workers, and they’re al motivated. I’m looking for something more. Your email made me think you might have it.”
“Oh . . . okay, wel , I’m glad—”
He cut her off. “You tried to blackmail me.”
Shit.
“I . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
“Oh, yes, you did,” Parekh said. He looked more amused than angry. “I’m not upset about it,” he said. “I think you should have shown better judgment, and I think you should have done a little more research. I was not Annabel’s professor when we started seeing each other. She had already dropped my class, in fact, and UVA policies only prohibit relationships between faculty and students where the faculty member has a teaching authority over the student.
So.”
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said, as sincerely as she could manage.
“You should be,” he said, stil with that trace of amusement. “But here’s the thing.” He gestured broadly around the room. “Here at the Project, we are not the police and we are not the FBI. We have a very limited budget to pay investigators. I need students who are imaginative, inventive, and wil ing to be creative when it comes to pursuing our cases. Working here does not mean sitting behind a desk drafting motions—our staff attorneys take care of that. We need students to do the hard grind of investigating facts and tracking down new evidence. If you could be as dogged with that as you were with trying to get a place here, maybe you could be of use to me.”
Hannah could feel the flush rising in her cheeks. She made herself hold his gaze. This was not the time to play the shy girl.
Though . . . she had a feeling he wouldn’t react wel if she was too assertive either.
“I’d like to try,” she said steadily.
“Why?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Tel me exactly why you want to work with us.”
Hannah took a breath. “Because I believe that the system is broken. Too many innocent people are going to prison and I think that may get worse, not better, given the political situation. The Innocence Project is fighting back, trying to fix things, and it’s doing it in al the right ways. Fighting individual cases, but also lobbying for systemic change. It’s actual y making a difference, and there aren’t very many organizations that can say that these days. I want to be part of that.” She had practiced her speech in front of the mirror a hundred times. She knew exactly what she looked like as she delivered it—frank, painful y sincere, maybe a little embarrassed by her own intensity. But Parekh looked Hannah right in the eye as she delivered her monologue . . . and he didn’t believe her. She could see it. She tried desperately to think of something else she could say to convince him. Nothing came to her. After a minute his eyes flicked away from hers. He hesitated.
“You’d be starting at the bottom,” he said. “I appreciate that you have some experience, but there are other students who were with us last year. They know our cases, and we’ve had an opportunity to supervise them directly.”
“I’m happy to do whatever is needed.” It was a start. She was in.
Hannah felt a nauseating lurch of relief.
Parekh stood. “Tomorrow is the first day back. Be here at nine A.M. We’l get you started.” It was clearly a dismissal. Hannah hesitated. Should she offer a handshake? No. That would be awkward. Trying too hard. “Thank you,” she said, as she stood and picked up her bag. “I’m excited to begin.”
Parekh didn’t smile and there was no sign of his earlier amusement when he replied. “It’s a big commitment. Our students are expected to work a minimum of fifteen hours per week, and frankly there are times where the workload is far in excess of that.
When you’re a little more settled, and assuming things work out, you’l be assigned to work with a group of three or four other students on a case. You’l find that most of our best students routinely work much longer hours. It’s difficult to set limits when you’re working to prove someone’s innocence. In some cases, to save a life.”
“Of course.” Hannah nodded energetical y, hoping that she was coming across as enthusiastic and not sycophantic. Parekh was very difficult to read. His tone was so dry. But what he had said was true; the Project did save lives. The debate, of course, was whether al of those lives deserved to be saved.
“Do you have a car?” Parekh asked, walking her to the door. “It can be useful, if you’re independent, for research and interviews.”
“Yes,” Hannah didn’t hesitate to lie. “I have a car.” After everything else, getting a car would be easy.
“Excel ent,” said Parekh. “I’l look forward to seeing you tomorrow then.”
Hannah found her way out through the maze-like layout of the administration building. She walked outside, looked around until she found a quiet place, a bench set in trees to the side of the pretty lawn at the front of the building, then took out her phone and cal ed her mother. Laura answered immediately.
“Are you al right?”
“You got my note?”
“I can’t believe you’re in Virginia. The whole idea is crazy. You should come home—”
Hannah cut across her mother. “Let’s not do this. Please. You have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
Hannah sighed. “You know I had no choice, Mom.” Her voice was as gentle as she could make it. “I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
That just . . . it wasn’t an option.”
Stil silence.
“Mom?”
“I wish you’d never found my diary. If I’d known it would lead to this, I would never have written it. Or I’d have burned it before you read it.”
“You would have had to tel me the truth eventual y,” Hannah said.
“Never. I never would have,” Laura said. “Some things are better left in the past.” Her voice was tight with anxiety. But she was sober.
She hadn’t been drinking. Hannah could always tel . Did she know yet that Hannah had found her stash? Maybe. It didn’t necessarily mean anything that she hadn’t mentioned it yet. Sometimes she held things back, let things build.
“I met the lawyer, Mom. I met Robert Parekh.”
“You did?”
“I’m in. At least, I’m not on the case, not yet, but I have a trial with the Project, at least. It’s a start.”
“There isn’t much time.”