“Or we will file a motion for immediate summary judgment on the custody issue.”

“And we will hand this deposition directly to the federal prosecutor.”

Nolan looked at his lawyer, then at his hands, which were now resting on the table.

The orange sleeve of his jumpsuit looked bright against the clean gray glass.

“I did what I had to do,” Nolan muttered.

“She was unstable.”

“She was going to ruin everything.”

“Who was going to ruin everything, Nolan?” I asked.

He looked up, his eyes dark and wild.

“You,” he spat.

“You and your father.”

“You sit on all that money and do nothing with it.”

“You restore old chairs in a dusty shop while I do all the work.”

“I deserved that money.”

The room went quiet again.

The only sound was the clicking of the stenographer’s machine.

His lawyer put his head in his hands.

“Mr. Pierce,” Sarah Vance said, her voice deadpan.

“Thank you.”

“We are finished for today.”

The marshals stood up and took Nolan by the arms.

He didn’t look at me as they led him out of the room.