Lou Horn stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and leaned his ample backside against the edge of the table. His stomach was queasy, so he dug out a pack of Tums and flipped one in his mouth. As he chewed the chalky antacid, he said a silent prayer that today’s docket would be handled by the assistant prosecutor. Subconsciously, he glanced down at his watch. It was 8:25 a.m., and the docket call wasn’t supposed to start until 9:00. Despite how early it was, the courtroom was crawling with defense lawyers, all vying for one last opportunity to be heard by the prosecutor before the judge took the bench. The gallery was a cacophony of nervous laughter, loud whispers, and the occasional sneeze or cough. The noise reminded Lou of the way a church congregation sounded before the music began and the preacher ascended the pulpit.

“Horn,” Dick Selby said, approaching Lou and taking a place next to him. Dick was a short thin man who used to be bald on top but, a few years ago, had undergone a hair transplant. Now the top of his head looked like a cornfield, except instead of rows of the crop there were columns of curly hair lining his scalp. Some members of the bar called him “Pube Head” behind his back, but Dick didn’t care. Lou figured that when your name was “Dick,” it was hard to get too riled up by any other handle someone bestowed upon you.

“Dick, how are you?” Lou spoke without looking at the man as both gazed past the sea of their colleagues to the double doors that marked the exit and entrance to the courtroom.

“A lot better now,” Dick said, his voice gruff.

“Why is that?”

“A little birdie just told me that Gloria was doing the docket today by herself.”

Relief washed over Lou like a cool blanket. If that was true, then settlement of his case was possible. He couldn’t suppress the smile that came to his lips. “Dick, you just made my—”

He stopped when he heard the double doors creak open. All conversation and laughter in the courtroom died in an instant. Seconds later, Gloria Sanchez walked through the opening rolling a large black briefcase behind her. Lou’s smile widened as he heard the collective exhale of fifty lawyers who all knew their day was about to be much better. Gloria strode forward with a lean, her eyes locked on the prosecution table in front of her. She was an attractive young woman who Lou thought would be far prettier if she smiled more. Of course, when you worked for who Gloria did, the smiles were probably few and far between. He was about to approach her when he heard another sound that made his blood run cold. The clicking of high heels on hardwood.