NEWS VANS WERE PARKED OUTSIDE the courthouse. Lane passed through the metal detector. She could do this. Wanted to do this. For her and Noah. For a future. She turned down the marble hallway and faced a crowd of reporters filling the wide hall. Thankfully, their attention and their microphones were focused on her father.

“Justice will be served.” Judge Sullivan’s voice echoed against the cold stone. “Walton’s finest are doing everything they can to find out who killed that sweet girl.”

Hearing her father call someone sweet sounded odd. Out of character—especially within the confines of the courthouse. This was Bear’s den, where he lived up to the moniker and delivered justice swiftly and firmly. Sometimes she was comforted to know that the lack of empathy he displayed at home he also shared with the defendants brought before him. Some people were critical of his severity, but they couldn’t deny that Walton was exceptionally safe considering its proximity to Savannah. And her father held no qualms about taking credit for his part.

Until now.

Lane slipped into the judge’s chambers and was glad to find it empty of his secretary. This conversation would be better received without anyone else present. At least that’s what Lane hoped.

It had taken her a week after hearing Charlie speak those words to her on the front porch of her house to get the courage to face her parents. Before their bodies swayed as one, Charlie had sought permission to offer her a chance at love and she hadn’t been able to stop hearing those words. The hope they ignited within her soul had kept the monsters of her depression at bay and only when she thought about what she was about to do did their roars become louder than the thundering within her chest.

“Lane?” Her mother stepped through the arched doorway separating the sitting area of the judge’s chambers from her father’s private office. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I thought this would be over by now.”

Lane glanced up at the flat-screen television mounted in the corner of the room that displayed a live feed of her father’s press conference.

“It should’ve been.” Her mother sighed. “Judge Atkins is using the murder as a means to question your father’s ability to deliver justice. And the media is eating it up.”

In a sharp black suit and red tie, her father leveled a serious stare at the reporters. “There is no question that I will make sure whoever killed Sydney Donovan pays for his or her crime. Leniency in this case will not be an option.”

“He’s not going to be happy when this is over.” Her mother checked her lipstick in the gilded mirror next to an antique desk. “But your support will mean a lot.”