The hallway outside the courtroom had two benches, one outlet that worked, and a window facing a parking garage.

Chloe claimed the outlet to keep her phone charged.

I held the iPad in its evidence bag and ran my thumb along the sealed edge.

Julian Vance came around the corner, his gold cuff links flashing under the ceiling lights.

“Arthur Mercer.” He said my name the way an auctioneer calls out a lot number.

“Mr.

Vance,” I said.

He sat down next to me without being invited and crossed one ankle over the other.