I did not wait for her to reply.

I walked through the double doors and out into the main corridor of the courthouse.

The hallway was wide, with high arched ceilings and marble floors that smelled of floor wax and wet raincoats.

Two men in dark suits were standing near the elevators.

They had small silver badges pinned to their lapels.

They watched Vivian as she walked toward the exit, their faces expressionless.

“Federal marshals,” Lydia said, stepping up beside me.

“They have been waiting for the judge’s referral.”

“Will they arrest them today?” I asked.

“Not today,” Lydia said. “But the grand jury subpoena will arrive by Friday.”

“They won’t be able to leave the state.”

We walked toward the glass doors of the courthouse entrance.

The cold air hit me first, a sharp contrast to the stuffy heat of the courtroom.

It smelled of salt water, asphalt, and wet earth.

I took a deep breath, feeling my lungs expand fully for the first time in months.

The rain was slowing down, turning into a light, grey drizzle that drifted under the stone portico.