Cormac wandered back into the courthouse, figuring he needed to use the bathroom and surely the case would be starting soon. He was still annoyed at how restless he felt. When someone pushed past him . . .

It was a flash, nothing more; he didn’t catch sight of the person . . .

He dismissed it as the fact that he had curly hair on his mind, but then it struck him, as the figure dashed past in a blur, ringlets bouncing out of their tight band, that she might well be here by now, and by the time his heart had suddenly dialed up to a hundred miles an hour and he’d turned around, there was a loud bang, and he realized that the figure had disappeared into the disabled toilet and locked the door behind her.

AH. NOW HERE was a thing. Lurking around the loo was . . . Cormac tried to think of a worse possible way to meet Lissa for the first time—if it even was her; it might just have been his mind playing tricks. How would he even know?

The corridor was empty and he backed away carefully, concerned at the loudness of the bang she had made and the speed she’d been running. Whoever it was, she was clearly upset.

He took out his phone and was about to text her, then he put it away again. If it wasn’t her, it would be very weird. If it was, saying “have you locked yourself in the toilet right now?” was hardly going to come over well.

He was about to go over to the courtroom, check if he could see her there, when he heard a noise coming from the door. Just a sob. The tiniest little sob.

Cormac stopped in his tracks. Whether it was her or whether it wasn’t . . . someone was really upset. And it just wasn’t in him not to pay attention to that.

He went over to the door and knocked gently.

LISSA FROZE. SHE had tried to keep quiet, but it was almost impossible; the lump in her throat was overwhelming. Oh God. She couldn’t believe it. Someone needed in. She was gasping for breath, didn’t know what to do. She tried to calm herself down.

“Um . . .” Cormac listened. He could hear heavy breaths. If she was genuinely having a panic attack, adding an extra stressor by identifying himself was probably the worst thing he could do. If it even was her.

Lissa put her hands on her knees, tried to suck in some air. “Just a minute,” she managed weakly.

She straightened up slowly, trying to breathe properly. She didn’t recognize her face in the mirror. She was being ridiculous. This was nuts. She had to go and do this. She had to . . . she had to . . .

She felt the tears welling up again.

“Are you all right?” came a soft voice.