Bennett whispered sharply.
Savannah crossed her arms.
I sat down before my knees could show the room they were trembling.
Claire leaned close.
“You okay?”
“No,” I whispered. “But keep going.”
Marcus made the call near the defense table.
Quietly.
Too quietly for the microphone to catch.
But not too quietly for the deputy behind him.
That deputy had been in my father’s courtroom for eleven years.
His name was Paul Haskins.
He had once brought me coffee after my mother’s funeral and pretended not to notice that I spilled half of it because my hands would not stop shaking.
Paul listened without looking like he was listening.
Another thing Marcus did not understand about small courthouses.
Everyone looks ordinary until you need them.
Marcus ended the call.
His smile was gone.
“My team confirms there may be preliminary investment activity in the area,” he said.
My father’s eyebrows lifted.
