“That’s exactly right,” I said.

I shut the cover and snapped the heavy metal rings of the court binder closed with a sharp click.

At nine twenty-five the heavy wooden doors of Courtroom 3B swung open.

Jaclyn sat at the defense table in a pale gray linen jacket, her long acrylic nails done in a soft pink.

She didn’t turn around when Clay and I sat down three rows back on the polished oak bench.

Officer Ray Vance sat two places to my left in full dress uniform.