35 NoraBeneath the dark solid wood of the defense table, Nora’s foot tapped silently on the courtroom carpet. She missed the sharp feel of Channing’s elbow rudely prodding her in the ribs. Man, she needed her best friend at her side, keeping her in line.
Smoothing the skirt of her pinstriped suit, she ordered herself to get a grip and sit still.
She was desperate for a smoke but the crowd outside in the free-speech plaza was more than a hundred strong. The US Marshals Service had called in extra officers to keep the demonstrators corralled in front. She’d considered sneaking out the rear of the building and huddling on the riverbank with her smoke.
But the risk of a confrontation with a protester was too high. Instead, she’d joined the three other defense attorneys at the ground floor F
