Two nurses stopped by the reception desk and turned toward us.

“My father owns every single room in that courthouse,” Brenda said.

I looked at my sister without stepping back an inch.

“Every judge on that county bench owes his appointment or his campaign money to Dad,” Brenda said, leaning in.

“Who do you think they’ll believe when Vance stands up in that room?”

I held my wrist between my thumb and forefinger and felt my pulse stay completely steady.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me, Brenda?” I asked.