38 Nora
If a hundred black cats crossed the courthouse corridor in front of her, Nora would not swerve. Old superstitions didn’t scare her.
But when Marianne Freemantle emerged from the women’s room and stepped right into her path, she had to use all her strength of character not to change direction.
Nothing promised bad luck as forcefully as the sight of the heartless Law Beast slinking across a federal hallway. Especially with her feral eyes raking Nora from top to bottom and her crimson lips flashing that superior smile.
Freemantle wore black straight-leg designer jeans paired with a bateau-necked black wool sweater. A white panel zinged diagonally along the asymmetrical hemline. A fake-casual look with a thousand-dollar price tag. And that wasn’t counting her pointy-toed black leat
