Helen never took for granted the importance of her position and the fact that during each trial she had a chance to create her own legacy, one carved in justice.

The lower gallery had four separate seating areas with six rows of wooden chairs that converged upon a railing that separated the judge, jury, and lawyers from the spectators. Beyond this barrier were the prosecution and defense tables and, between them, a box with a high-back chair inside, where witnesses were called to testify.

Helen ran a hand over the wooden armrest of the witness stand, thinking about Mandy Burks, who would be the first witness called by the state. After jury voir dire and opening statements, Helen knew that the jury would be chomping at the bit to hear from the victim, and she wouldn’t make them wait.

“Feet hurt?”

Startled, Helen turned toward the voice, which sounded familiar. The lights in the gallery had been turned off, and Helen squinted into the darkness. After a couple of seconds, she saw the shadow of a man rise from a seat on the left side, about halfway back, and approach slowly. He had his hands in his pockets, and when he walked, each shoulder dipped slightly. Helen knew the stride without seeing the man’s face, and she subconsciously gritted her teeth. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long,” the man said, opening the small gate that separated the gallery from the bench and bar. “About five minutes.” He paused and took a step closer. “I’ve always enjoyed watching you work.”

Helen felt heat on her face. “Maybe because work has always been such a foreign concept to you.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it might be because you’re so damn sexy when you walk around the courtroom in your socks.”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Butch? I’m prepping for a trial.” She turned away from him and walked back to the chair in the jury where she had placed her file.

“So I’ve heard,” he said, following after her. “Michael Zannick, right?”

“Your buddy,” Helen said, sitting down and pulling out a folder from the file. “Did Lou send you down here to try to get me to change my mind on the deal I offered?”

“No,” Butch said. “I was actually hoping you would let me take you to dinner tonight. Maybe Legends? Or, if you’re up for a short drive, we could go to Fayetteville and eat at Cahoots. Get a table in one of the old jail cells. You used to love that place, remember?”