She turns on the stool to face me. Her eyes are red, like she hasn’t slept well in a long time, and I remember that she is also three months away from birthing a child into a world that contains men like Josiah DeMaris. “None of that gets Cass out of a cell.”
That knocks me stupid and silent.
“A public scandal isn’t a legal defense for her,” she goes on, more gently. “Politically, he burns. But the GSR on her hand doesn’t disappear because a senator’s career does. The prints on the weapon don’t lift themselves off the grip. The D.A.’s case against her stands on its own forensic legs, and a smart prosecutor will argue it stands even taller now—because if Vainakh was real and Raymond was their guy, then of course Raymond’s wife had even more motive to want him dead.”
I feel f*****g sick.
