Another prosecutor, a polished Black woman with a cold confidence, stood and took over the hearing. “Andrea Fitch for the State, Your Honor.”

Gavin turned to look at the judge, but all he could see was the face of a ghost, a woman he’d met only once, eight years ago in the backseat of a car.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Lila had read and reread Gavin Spencer’s bail study, looking for arguments that Spencer might make to keep bail low. He might point out that he had no criminal history and had lived in Minnesota all of his life, with the exception of three years when he attended a private high school in Indiana. Lila would counter with the fact that Spencer was facing serious time in prison and had enough money to take flight. She went one step further, though, and prepared rebuttals for arguments that didn’t jump out as obvious, such as medical concerns, turning in his passport, or a request for home confinement.

Lila had come away from her meeting with the detectives seeing that Gavin was both smart and careful. The lack of physical evidence meant that Sadie Vauk’s abduction had been meticulously planned. And if she hadn’t been a champion swimmer, she would have been just as dead as the other three women pulled from the river. More than any other defendant in her stack of files, Gavin Spencer seemed to be playing a game. And although he chose to appear without an attorney that morning, Lila had vowed not to underestimate him.

As she had waited for court to start, the creak of the courtroom door pulled Lila’s attention to the back of the room, where Frank Dovey was walking in. He carried no files, no briefcase. He looked at Lila, locking his gaze on her for an uncomfortable few seconds before taking a seat in the back row of pews.

Lila turned back around and looked at the file on her lap, although her focus floated away from the pages. Why was Dovey there? Had he come to watch her? It sounded paranoid, but why else come when he had no cases to handle?

She did her best to shake Dovey from her thoughts, shuffling through the Spencer file to calm her anxiety. Then a side door opened and a jailer ushered six men in orange jumpsuits into the room, Gavin Spencer walking at the head of the line. She recognized him from his booking photo. He took a seat in the jury box and Lila returned to her prep work. He looked unimpressive—insignificant—his skin soft and squishy on his bones.

The hum of conversations stopped when a bailiff entered through a hidden door behind the judge’s bench. He tucked his thumbs into his belt and called out, “All rise.” Everyone did. “The District Court of Hennepin County is in session, the Honorable June Anderson presiding.”