Andi and Leo stood and followed the judge through a door behind her bench, leaving the jailer, the bailiff, Gavin, and Lila alone in the courtroom. Gavin wanted to say something pithy, gloat over his victory, but he held it in. He wasn’t going to be that last soldier.

Then from the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Lila had risen to her feet and was walking his way. Gavin kept his eyes forward. The swinging gate that divided the well of the courtroom from the gallery squeaked as she walked through. She stopped in front of him, facing him, barely an arm’s length away.

“It took me a while,” she said, “but I remember you.”

“I don’t think you should be talking to me,” Gavin said, his lisp slipping out.

“I knew your voice but I didn’t understand why. Now I do.”

“You need to leave.” Gavin looked in the direction of the bailiff, who watched Lila with curious fascination.

Lila reached into her jacket pocket, and for a split second Gavin expected her to pull out a gun. But it wasn’t a gun; it was a picture. She slapped it to the table in front of him. Gavin glanced at the picture and recognized himself, sitting on a chair at a party, his eyes fixed on Lila. Gavin’s blood went cold and thin in his veins.

“You think you’ve won,” Lila whispered, her eyes pinned on his. “But I won’t let that happen.”

Then she turned and walked out of the courtroom.

Chapter 57

Chapter 57

It took nearly an hour for the jailers to book Gavin out, an excruciating march of time that caused Gavin’s heart to pound. He was close—so damned close.

As he waited, he relived Lila’s actions. There was no way that her memory had miraculously returned after eight years of amnesia. It didn’t work that way. If she accused him, it would be a lie. But did that matter? Even if she concocted an absolute fairy tale out of bits and pieces, she had a photo to back it up. Where the hell did she get a photo?

But they were still processing him out, which meant they didn’t have a prosecutable case yet. They would need to re-interview witnesses from the party, focus their attention on Gavin’s movements that night. They would dig through the evidence bags in search of anything that might put Gavin in the backseat of that car. He had been careful, even if Jack had not. He knew they would find no DNA or trace evidence—but they might find Jack.

With Vauk dead, they would be frantic in their efforts to get him back behind bars. His window of opportunity would be small, a matter of days or maybe even hours.

And still the clock on the wall refused to tick.