“Objection, Your Honor. We have no idea what is in that envelope, and opposing—”
He stopped himself.
Opposing counsel.
For half a second, he had almost called me that.
I looked at him.
He noticed.
So did Judge Morrison.
“Mr. Voss,” she said, “sit down.”
“But Your Honor—”
“Sit.”
He sat.
Behind him, Vivian Hale’s face had lost its polished
expression.
Her husband, Richard, stared at me with open hostility.
Only an hour earlier, Richard Hale had laughed when he saw me enter without an attorney.
He had leaned toward
