Lena's POV
The courtroom smelled like carpet cleaner and old wood and the particular anxiety of people who had too much to lose.
I sat in the gallery because nobody had subpoenaed me yet, and I intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. Vivian's documentation had done most of the work. The DA's office hadn't needed my testimony to make the arrest. Whether they'd need it for the conviction was a question my lawyer had told me to stop thinking about until she told me to start.
I was not good at that.
Richard Cole sat at the defense table in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's monthly rent. He looked smaller than I remembered. Not diminished exactly — just reduced. The kind of man who had always relied on the room to magnify him, and this room was not coo
