Carter did not answer his mother.

He slowly slid the phone into his jacket pocket, his knuckles turning white.

“Lydia,” I said softly, not moving my gaze from his profile.

“I see it,” Lydia murmured, her eyes on the defense table.

“They just lost their last line of credit,” she added under her breath.

The heavy oak door behind the judge’s bench clicked.

The court officer stood up immediately, his uniform creaking.

“All rise,” the officer announced, his voice echoing off the high plaster walls.

We stood.

My knees were stiff, but I held my back straight.

I kept my hand inside my coat pocket, my fingers wrapped tight around June’s silver rattle.

Judge Elizabeth Vance entered the courtroom with a slow, deliberate stride.

Her black robe brushed against the side of the wooden bench as she climbed the steps.

She did not look at Carter, nor did she look at me.

She sat down and adjusted a thick stack of papers in front of her.

The rustle of the parchment was the only sound in the room.

“Please be seated,” the judge said.