Cole's voice in my earpiece, low: "I'm right here."
"You have until Friday, Your Honor." She pushes the thermos toward me. "I can make this painless for you. Gentle. Like falling asleep. Or I can visit Room 114. And it won't be gentle at all."
I look at the photograph. My father in the sunlight.
Then I look at Victoria.
"Who told you his medication schedule? Meadowbrook doesn't publish that."
"That's not—"
"Who told you about Patterson? About Li?" I stand. "You didn't find those case files yourself. Someone handed them to you. Someone pointed you at judges and saidthese are the corrupt onesand you believed them."
"They WERE corrupt." Victoria's on her feet now too. The composure cracking. "I saw the evidence—"
"Evidence someone gave you. Have you ever asked yourself why?"
"I don't have to justify myself to you." Her voice rises. "You're just like the others. Making excuses. Hiding behind procedure while girls like Rose—"
"I'm asking you a simple question. Who gave you the list?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters if they lied to you."
"They didn't—"
"Patterson took bribes? Eleanor Patterson, who reported her own clerk for accepting gifts from defense attorneys?" I take a step toward her. "Li protected traffickers? Henry Li, who extended sentences twice because he thought the guidelines were too lenient?"
Victoria's breathing has changed. Faster. Shallower.
"You're lying."
"I knew them. Iknewthem." My voice doesn't waver. "And whoever told you they were corrupt was feeding you names of judges who were actually doing their jobs."
"No." Victoria shakes her head. "No, I verified—"
"You verified what they showed you. Fabricated evidence. Sealed records that don't exist. They used your grief, Victoria. They pointed you like a weapon and pulled the trigger."
"Stop." The word comes out strangled. Quiet. Almost a plea. "Just—stop."
Her hand shoots into the bag.
Cole's voice cuts through the earpiece: "We're done."
He crosses the space in four silent steps. Victoria's fingers close around something in the bag, but before she can pull it free, his hand locks her wrist. His other arm wraps around her, pinning her against him.
The bag drops. A glass vial rolls across the hardwood, stops against the leg of the coffee table.
I stare at it. Clear liquid. Innocuous. That small thing would have stopped my heart. Would have left Chesca without a mother.
Victoria struggles. Once. Twice. Then goes still.
From the kitchen, the back door opens. Footsteps. A moment later, Damian appears at the kitchen opening, standing where Cole was seconds ago.
Victoria's eyes sweep the room. Taking in the positions. The trap she walked into.
"I was never getting out of this house." Her voice is hollow.