I put the evidence binder squarely between us.

The desk lamp lit up the colored tabs.

“They’re going to try to make her look like the victim,” I said.

Clay pushed his hand through his hair.

He stared at the floor next to my desk chair.

“She lied to me for months,” he said.

“She told me he was happy while I was gone.”

“You can’t put it that way on the stand,” I said.