What Evidence Looks Like
I looked at it on a stranger’s arm and I said nothing, and my silence must have looked like defeat.
“Still living with the old sheriff?” Cassian asked, leaning back in his chair, expansive, enjoying himself.
“Yes.”
“Pathetic.
You traded a husband for a landlord.”
Behind me, in a plain charcoal suit of his own, Cormac said absolutely nothing.