Chapter 28: Accomplice

The federal courthouse on Dearborn had a lobby made of black glass and a metal detector that hated my legs.

The guard ran the wand over my shins twice.

It screamed both times.

"They're legs," I said.

"Ma'am, I have to..."

"Go ahead. Everybody else has."

He waved me through with a red face.

It was Monday morning, four days before Christmas.

The courtroom on the twenty-third floor was paneled in wood and very warm.

Mom and Dad sat in the second row.

Brendan sat on the aisle, one seat closer to the front than them.

Dez sat behind me in his good jacket, with a packet of sunflower seeds he wasn't allowed to open.

They brought Verity in through a side door.

She wore an orange jumpsuit and canvas slip-on shoes.

Her hair was in a plain rubber band.

For the first time since I'd met her, she wasn't wearing white.

She didn't look at our parents.

She looked at me, once, all the way across the room.

Then she looked at the table.

The hearing was about one thing.

Whether she went home to wait for her trial, or stayed in a cell.

Her lawyer had a better plan.

He wanted the judge to see that the government's star witness was a criminal too.

The prosecutor called me first.

I walked to the witness box and sat down.

I put my hand on the Bible and swore.

The prosecutor asked me short, clean questions, and I gave short, clean answers.

The pier. The ring. The money table. The wall.

Forty-six payments I'd counted on a floor.

Then she sat down, and Verity's lawyer stood up.

He was tall and silver-haired and very kind-looking.

He smiled at me.

"Ms. Devlin. You kept the books for a criminal organization for twelve years."

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