“Don’t pretend you didn’t just hear her. She said she killed her husband,” Ms. Carson rallied. “And yet Jolene can’t even walk into school without someone whispering vile things about a silly little prank.”

The woman’s voice carried down the marbled corridor of the courthouse, drawing the attention of everyone nearby, including that of a very pretty woman hanging near the wall, her eyes fixed on the entire scene with insatiable interest. The reporter. Vivian DeMarco.

A loud commotion grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Where’s the sheriff?” a male voice boomed from across the hall. “I want to see the sheriff!”

Angry voices became amplified, causing the muscles in Charlie’s face to become tense. He moved around Lane, his hand held steady on the gun at his hip. “Stay here.”

The crowd parted and Lane’s heart jumped into her throat. Sydney’s father, face red and sweaty, stopped when he saw Charlie. Five more men stood behind him with something close to rage radiating from their faces. Near the back, Deputy Wilson, nostrils flaring, looked like a bull ready to charge.

“Sheriff Huggins isn’t here,” Charlie said calmly. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

“Where is the monster who killed my baby girl? I want to see him now!”

“Mr. Donovan, we’re doing everything we can to find out who killed Sydney.”

“You already know who killed her.” Spittle flew from the enraged man’s lips. “I want to know why you haven’t found him yet. Brought him in.”

Lane became nervous at the sight of the guns holstered on the sides of the men with Mr. Donovan. Probably why they had the attention of everyone in the room—including her father’s, who moved in behind Charlie.

“Gentlemen, I know the great state of Georgia allows you to carry those firearms, but in my courthouse, they are not permitted. I’m going to have to ask you to leave—”

“I ain’t leavin’ till I get answers!” Mr. Donovan screamed, making people jump.

“I’d be happy to answer your questions, but this isn’t the way it’s going to happen.” With slow, steady steps, Charlie moved forward. Lane held her breath. What would a hurting father do to bring his murdered daughter justice? “Judge Sullivan is right. Those guns don’t belong in here, and you’ve got me and my fellow deputy feeling a little nervous. Let’s do this the right way so justice can be served.”

“Justice?” Mr. Donovan reared his head back and laughed. “My daughter didn’t get any justice.”

A man with a lip full of chewing tobacco stepped forward. “We can offer our own brand of justice.”

“That’s not something you want to do.” Charlie set his jaw. “Any threat against another person is taken seriously. It’s not a path you want to go down.”