The envelope arrived on a Thursday morning, six months after Sterling's arrest. It was thick, cream-colored, with the official seal of the Crown Court printed in the top left corner. It sat on the doormat when I opened the door to let the dog out. Bear sniffed it, then lost interest. I picked it up. I knew what it was before I opened it. The weight of the paper felt like lead.
I took it inside to the kitchen. Marcus was at the table, reviewing the security logs for the upcoming board retreat. He looked up when I came in. He saw the envelope. He didn't ask what it was. He knew.
"Subpoena," I said. I placed it on the table. It landed with a soft thud.
"For the trial?" Marcus asked. He put his pen down.
"Elena's trial," I said. "Victim impact statement. Mandatory appearance for cross-exam
