I had imagined that hearing it would give me satisfaction sharp enough to justify every sleepless hour.

What I felt first was tiredness.

Then I looked at Hannah.

She was seated beside her attorney, hands still in her lap.

Julian was not the best-dressed man in a room organized around his approval.

He was the defendant listening to a court explain the consequences of acts he had admitted.

He did not look at her for long.

Hannah’s statement was shorter than the drafts she had written at home.