“Sit down, Audrey,” Martha said, setting her yellow legal pad on the scuffed wooden table.

She unscrewed the brass cap of her fountain pen and tapped the open nib against the top line of her notes.

“We have twenty minutes before Judge Norris takes the bench,” Martha said.

I pulled out the armless chair and sat down slowly, resting my hand protectively on my bump.

“Did Samuel Reed get the official bank seal on the video copy?”

“He’s downstairs in his car right now, printing the certified chain of custody record,” Martha said.