Sloane remained in the gallery, her head bowed, her fingers twisting a damp tissue.

Nobody spoke to her.

She had been their tool, and now she was simply a witness to their ruin.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a small silver rattle that belonged to June.

I had carried it in my pocket for luck.

Its weight in my palm was solid and real.

Lydia looked at her watch.

“Ten minutes left,” she said.

The door behind the judge’s bench remained closed.

The silence in the room returned, heavy and thick with the smell of wet wool and old paper.

On the defense table, Carter’s phone suddenly lit up, its screen glowing bright blue in the dim room.

He reached for it quickly, his thumb pressing the screen.

His face went completely still as he read the message.

He did not look up.

His fingers remained hovered over the screen, trembling slightly.

Vivian leaned closer, her eyes narrowing as she tried to read the display.

“What is it, Carter?” she whispered.

Her voice was sharp enough to cut through the quiet room.