[October 8th, 9:06 am, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 4]

The air conditioning was still running in the lobby despite it being only sixty degrees outside, which made the shiny linoleum of the floors reflecting the buzzing fluorescent lights seem even colder than usual. The room was overtaken with this sense, as even the bailiff, arms folded in front of the door to the courtroom, shivered every now and again when he assumed no one was looking. Otherwise, the room was quite silent. Dull murmurs of other trials could be heard in the hall like plays acted by ghosts on an unseen stage, but none of that could distract the young attorney who busied himself by laboriously reexamining every note he had taken on the case. Of course, reviewing the facts was mostly meaningless at this point: he had every detail essentially burned into his mind, but he was feeling anxious, and flipping the pages and staring at his messy, rapid handwriting offered the impression that he was doing something.

It was a little less than ten more minutes of this torturous waiting before something finally changed. Robin saw the glow of red and blue lights shimmer against the pastel walls for a moment and assumed he knew their meaning. The sound of a pair of doors slamming shut prompted him to close his notebook and look up. A stout police officer was pushing a handcuffed Lyndis Lorca through the heavy glass doors. Robin rose to meet them. "Good morning, Lyn," he offered clinically.

"Good morning, Mr. LeBlanc," she said. Dark shades underscored her half-closed eyes.

"How are you feeling?" the attorney continued, unsure of what this question would accomplish.

"I'm all right," she said simply, blinking a few times, "How are you feeling? About the case, I mean."

"I'm feeling strongly about it," he said, clenching his fists to assure her he was serious and putting on a smile.

"That's good," she seemed to yawn, "Um... the officer here told me I might have to get up and testify... Is that true?"

The attorney nodded, "Most likely. The prosecutor will want you to explain your actions, but it will mostly be to try to show that what you're claiming is impossible. They just want to paint you in a bad light, but I'll be there to stop them."

"That's a relief," she smiled, "What should I say if they call me up?"

"Just be honest. Tell them everything exactly as it happened; the worst thing you can do to yourself is try to stretch the truth," Robin answered.

"I see," she thought about that for a moment, glancing back at the doors, "and you'll be in there to help, right?" She finished this question with a bright, almost playful smile.

"Of course," the attorney was unsure of what to make of the gesture.

"Okay," her head bent as she sighed, "It's just... I'm a little... uh, Rath told me that I shouldn't answer questions, especially without an attorney present. I don't know why, exactly, but he was very insistent upon it. 'And not a word about your life at home,' he told me."

"Uh, yeah," Robin swallowed, "don't worry. I'll monitor the types of questions you're asked. Just tell the truth, like I said, and we'll come out okay."

"Okay," she hummed, "I guess I have to get going now, huh?" She took a wary glance at the officer who still had a hand pressed to her back, "I'll see you in a minute, Mr. LeBlanc."

"Right," her attorney nodded, "just stay calm, Lyn."

The officer continued to lead the girl into the courtroom and Robin rubbed his head fitfully for another few minutes of note-skimming until the bailiff in front of the door cleared his throat, "Mr. LeBlanc, court is just about to convene, if you would be so kind."

Robin stood, packing his files away, and walked through the doors.

[October 8th, 9:32 am, District Court-Courtroom No. 4]

A gavel pounded against wood to silence a few murmurs. Robin noticed that the press were back in full force for today's trial, too: he hadn't heard much about the upcoming headlines, but Lyn's relation to the Tolstoys was guaranteed to draw in some attention. A few off-duty cops, sporting their badges and stern looks, occupied seats in the gallery. Maybe a few of their friends had been iced by the Tolstoys. Robin swallowed hard: he didn't want to think about what they were wishing upon him and Lyn at this moment.

Something else attracted Robin's attention, however: his opposing counsel. For as much of a buffoon as Virion Canarde had proved himself to be, at least he looked the part of a prosecutor; the man across from Robin's desk did not come across as one who routinely spent long hours in offices examining police dossiers in order to step into a dingy public court for several hours and attempt to condemn small, local criminals. Maybe that was because he wasn't: Colm had said they were saving him, after all, for important trials, but the man still looked nothing like Robin had been expecting of such a weapon. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with neatly cropped but youthfully stylish wheat-blond hair and stubble to match darkening his v-shaped chin. His eyes were cat-like and, appropriately, a vaguely gold color. He wore not a suit, but a long navy coat that covered a black blazer and barely visible white undershirt further diminished by a wide red power tie. He blinked only a few times while Robin investigated his appearance, suggesting he was conducting a similar assessment.

"Ahem," the judge cleared his throat, "If you would all please be silent. Good morning, court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Lyndis Lorca. Are the defense and prosecution adequately prepared?"

"Yes, Your Honor," Robin nodded, stealing a breath.

"Indeed, Your Honor," answered the man on the other end of the room.

"It's been quite a while since I last saw you in my courtroom, Mr. Reed," added the judge.

"Quite," the prosecutor concurred, smiling gently, "Your Honor will forgive me for my absence. My promotion means I don't always have the time to spend in lower courts such as these, but I'm of the opinion that justice is just as important at every level of the system, which is why I still drop by local courts whenever I'm able."

Sure, Robin thought, that's why you're here.

"And an admirable position that is," said the judge, mirroring the smile, "would you care to introduce yourself to those less familiar with you by providing your opening statement, Mr. Reed?"

"But of course, Your Honor," the man closed his eyes and let his chest rise and fall, "Ladies and gentlemen of the court, as well as the jury, thank you so much for gracing our humble hall of justice with your very valuable time this morn. My name is Lloyd Reed. Ordinarily, I do my prosecuting at the territorial level, which is why you may be more or less familiar with me. As I told His Honor, however, my intention is to exact justice wherever I go, and so that is why I am here today." He adjusted his tie, "Ladies and gentlemen, today we are presented with a very clear, and very tragic case: the case of Ms. Nephenee Monell, who was most callously taken from her friends and family by the hands of her very own coworker, Ms. Lyndis Lorca." A few murmurs spread out through the crowd and some gazes landed on Lyn, who was couched in the gallery at the extreme end toward Robin. "Now," Lloyd continued, "some of you may have heard of my opposing counsel today, too, in regards to an impressive defense he put on just a few days ago, isn't that right, Mr. Robin LeBlanc?"

Robin's eyes widened when he heard his name. Like a deer in headlights, he stood and murmured, "Uh, yes, that was me."

"Thank you," Lloyd dismissed. Robin sat down. "Mr. LeBlanc has already proved himself a competent attorney, which is good: we prosecutors can't go about losing our edge. We two sides of the law must be constantly in conflict in order to hone the sword of justice, so I will appreciate the provision of Mr. LeBlanc's staunch defense. He will try to convince you, ladies and gentlemen, that Ms. Lorca was somehow incapable of the dreadful murder, or that another might have been responsible, but when you hear from the defendant herself, as well as the testimony of a few of her coworkers, you will know why that conclusion is flawed. You will hear that Ms. Lorca, following a feud with Ms. Monell, arranged to meet in their office after hours. You will see evidence of the coffee mug she used to do young Ms. Monell in when a scuffle erupted, and then..." Lloyd Reed stroked his hair out of his face, "Then, you will declare Ms. Lorca guilty, and see that she is properly punished for her actions."

Surprised looks spread around the courtroom as Robin felt heat crawling up his collar. They couldn't actually be believing this charlatan's shtick, could they?

"Very well put, Mr. Reed," said the judge.

Of course they were.

"Would you care to call your first witness?"

"Yes," Lloyd smiled, "let's not dally. Let's give it to the court straight from the horse's mouth: the prosecution calls Ms. Lyndis Lorca, please." As a few whispers were let out, Lyn stood and trudged her way to the defendant stand, looking at Robin as she made her way up. "Good day, Ms. Lorca."

"G-Good day," she responded politely.

"Could you repeat your name and state your occupation for the record?"

"My name is Lyndis Lorca, and I'm a sales representative at Heron Corporation."

"Very good," Llyod dipped his head before glancing at the gallery and then the jury, "Now, Ms. Lorca, would you be so kind as to describe to the court your version of events?"

She paused, rubbing her thumb over her palm, "Uh, my 'version of events,' sir?"

Lloyd's nostrils flared as he let out a quick exhale, "Just tell the court what happened on the night of the crime from your perspective, Ms. Lorca."

"Oh," she blinked, "Well, that's simple enough, I guess. It all started a little over a week ago. I was just carrying on about my work like any other day, but I got this weird email from Nephenee. It said I had robbed her of a promotion—I had been assigned a new, higher-grade pool of clientele recently, as well as a pay increase—but, anyway, she seemed really upset, like I had deliberately thwarted her when we really didn't even know each other very well. She avoided me for the next few days after that, and I started to get worried. I sent her a reply email on the same day, but she never responded, so I just didn't understand. Then, two days ago, I guess that was the 6th, she stopped me moving between offices and asked if we could talk later that evening. I agreed, because I wanted to put whatever this weird squabble was behind us, and so we arranged to meet at eight o'clock that evening."

"And did you both show up to the meeting?"

"We did. Nephenee... um... sorry, my memory of this is a little hazy..."

Robin felt his cheeks flush as a few previously inattentive eyes locked in on Lyn.

"It was a terribly rainy night. We met up in front of the office, and I walked in right behind Nephenee. When we got into the office, she told me about hearing that I filed an HR complaint, which wasn't true. I told her as much, but she wouldn't believe it. She started complaining about management, and I think she was starting to get angry... Eventually, she lunged forward at me and shoved me back into the cubicle, which gave me a bump on my head. I can't pretend I wasn't kind of annoyed, so I shoved her back, but I guess that little bump did more damage than I thought, because after that I felt everything go black and I passed out. The next thing I remember is being carried out of the building by a pair of policemen."

"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen," Lloyd offered his hands, "Ms. Lorca claims she fell unconscious after shoving her coworker, who ended up dead that evening." Some in the court laughed audibly, prompting a grimace from Robin. "The prosecution has reason to doubt Ms. Lorca's claims, however, and we will bring forth further testimony in order to elucidate our reasoning."

"Mr. LeBlanc, any objections to this testimony?" inquired the judge.

"Um," Robin hesitated, "Lyn, are you sure about that last part? You definitely saw Nephenee shove you, and you blacked out when you shoved her back?"

"Saw it? I felt it," she said, a little insulted, "Yes, Nephenee pushed me and I hit my head. Well, I guess that's when I hit my head. I don't remember feeling that bump until after I woke up, so I figured that had to be it."

"I see," Robin sighed, "thank you. No further questions." This was going to be a long trial.

"Splendid," declared Lloyd Reed, "Now, in order to acquaint us most accurately with the case, the prosecution would like to call the chief investigator on this incident, Detective Colm Fletcher."

Without another word, Colm Fletcher sauntered up to the stand, taking Lyn's place with an unlit cigarette resting sumptuously between his lips. As the sound of "name and occupation" began to leave Lloyd's mouth, the detective sneered at the gallery and stated, "My name is Colm Fletcher. I'm a homicide detective, and the chief investigator on the crime at issue in today's trial."

At least I can count on you, thought Robin.

"Straight to the point," the prosecutor grinned, "I like that. Well, then, good detective, don't keep us in suspense: please, tell the court your findings."

Colm cleared his throat, "The story shakes down like this: my people arrived on the scene at 8:42 pm, responding to a call from within the building. We found the defendant lying unconscious right by the victim. Both women had bruises on the backs of their heads, which was confirmed by a paramedic who came on the scene about ten minutes after the officers responded to the call. Ms. Monell was also reported to have numerous bruises along her back according to the autopsy, probably sustained in a shoving match with the defendant. The killing blow, as determined by the autopsy, was a severe contusion on the back of the head, delivered likely as a result of blunt force trauma. That explanation is consistent with some other evidence we found: a ceramic coffee cup, shattered to bits around the two women and dripping with the victim's blood, and a stain from a spray of brown liquid that we can reasonably conclude is coffee. From all that, the conclusion seems pretty obvious: the defendant was fighting with the victim and smashed her head in with that coffee mug, killing her instantly, and then passed out, either due to shock or injuries sustained during the fight."

"Mr. LeBlanc," offered the judge, "your cross-examination."

"Yes, Your Honor," Robin sighed, happy to he able to speak at last, "Detective Fletcher, let's talk about Ms. Monell's injuries."

"All right."

"You mentioned that she had wounds along her back? Could you elaborate?"

"Not 'wounds,' per se. Bruises. The coroner said she had bruises in spots on her back that were indicative of additional blunt force trauma."

"Could you tell the court which spots, specifically?"

"Well... skipping the medical mumbo-jumbo, they'd be most severe on the shoulders, some light ones along her spine, and a few worse ones around her tailbone, a little ways above her hips."

"Objection!" Robin cried, "Detective Fletcher, surely you can see why that makes no sense."

"W-Well..."

Lloyd Reed slammed a fist on his desk to announce himself, "Since you brought it up, maybe you'd care to tell the court, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"If I must," Robin nodded, "Those bruises are totally inconsistent with the detective's explanation: if Lyn and Nephenee were fighting, how would Nephenee's back get bruised, but not her chest, arms, or anywhere more available?"

"Objection!" answered the prosecution, "Weren't you listening, Mr. LeBlanc? The pair were in a 'shoving match:' they didn't physically assault one another, except to push each other into the walls of the cubicle, until Ms. Lorca took the coffee mug to Ms. Monell's head."

"But then why did Lyn only have a bruise on the back of her head?"

"Maybe she took fewer hits. Maybe she ended the fight before the victim had much of a chance to fight back."

"But how about the head injury: why would it be on the back of the victim's head if she were face-to-face with the defendant?"

"One can't possibly account for the angle that might present itself in mid-brawl, Mr. LeBlanc. Where the blow was struck signifies nothing."

"I'm afraid I must concur with Mr. Reed in this case," the judge noted aloud, "Objection overruled, Mr. LeBlanc."

Dammit, Robin cursed, he's got a lot less give than Virion.

"Any further questions, Mr. LeBlanc?" inquired the judge.

"Er, yes, actually," Robin gathered himself, "Detective Fletcher, you mentioned that the call for the police came from within the building, is that right?"

"Yeah."

"And do you know who made that call?"

"The official report says it came from the CEO's office."

Robin paused, cocking an eyebrow. Colm's facial response told the attorney he shared his confusion.

"Ah, but that was an error made by the investigative team," the prosecutor wagged his finger, "I have an updated report with me that clarifies the error: the call was made by a cell phone whose GPS positioning showed the caller near the CEO's office, thus the mix-up."

"Objection, Your Honor!" Robin complained, "The defense and prosecution are supposed to have access to the same body of police investigation material, why did I never see this updated report?"

Lloyd Reed shook his head, "The update only came in this morning, a few minutes after the trial began, else I would have gladly shared it with you, Mr. LeBlanc. You may have my copy to examine, if you so desire."

"I do," Robin assumed a confrontational tone, receiving the document bitterly. I can't believe the judge is just letting him get away with that excuse... How does he have everyone here so spellbound? Well, it's not working on me. I'm onto you, Lloyd Reed.

"Well," the blond prosecutor began anew, "With that matter settled, I think the next logical step would be to question the caller himself, don't you? You may step down, Detective Fletcher; the prosecution calls Eliwood Fremont."

As instructed, the young redheaded man stood from a corner of the gallery and proceeded to the witness stand, replacing a frowning Detective Fletcher. He assumed his position with a polite smile, beaming his blue eyes out to the courtroom.

"Good day, lad," Lloyd began, "Could you tell the court your name and occupation?"

"Eliwood Fremont, sir," he obeyed, "I'm a sales representative at Heron Corporation, just like Lyn and Nephenee."

"Indeed," Lloyd bowed his head, "Did you work at all with Misses Lorca or Monell?"

"I did," he nodded, "Lyn worked right beside me in the office, and Nephenee was never really far away, although she was usually running around."

"Very good. Now, Mr. Fremont, is the court correct in assuming it was you who contacted the authorities that evening?" the prosecutor continued.

"Yes," Eliwood answered, "I arrived on the scene after the... uh, incident that resulted in Ms. Monell's death, and saw what had occurred, so I called the police on my cell phone straight away."

"Could you tell us, in your own words, what you witnessed, Mr. Fremont?" Lloyd's fingers cupped his chin.

"Um... certainly," the young man nodded, "When I went into the office, it was much as Mr. Fletcher described it: there was a spray of coffee dripping down the walls, and on the floor was... was... Um, Ms. Monell lay dead, there was blood pooling around her head, and Lyn... Lyn was nearby, unconscious, as it appeared. I tried to rouse her, but she didn't budge. The air in the room was cold, too: the window had been left open. The whole thing... I mean, the sight of those two... I, uh... I felt very uncomfortable, and so I stepped out of the room, a little ways down the hall, before I made the call."

"Explaining your question, Mr. LeBlanc," noted the prosecutor, "Mr. Fremont 'stepped out' to a room directly beneath the CEO's office, and so the police report merely misidentified the location. What's most important here, however, is that we have a witness who can place everything at the scene exactly as it was when the detective arrived not long after, meaning there's no room to doubt the facts of this case."

He says that, but I'm not so sure, thought Robin, Something about the way Eliwood's looking makes me suspicious. I wonder...

The judge shrugged his shoulders in Robin's direction, "Cross-examination, Mr. LeBlanc?"

"Mr. Fremont," he said aloud, "I wanted to ask you momentarily about that window."

"Yes?" the young man's eyes brightened.

"First, is it typical to leave windows open after closing, Mr. Fremont?" Robin put on his most professional air.

He shook his head, "Just the opposite: company policy is to close and lock all windows before leaving for the day. It's even more bizarre because it was pouring that night. Ordinarily, that'd be a supervisor's job, since they're the ones who leave last."

"And do you recall opening, or do you recall anyone else in the office opening that particular window at any point on October 6th?" he pressed.

"No, sir," Eliwood said curtly.

"Objection!" Heads turned to face Lloyd, who waggled his finger, "This court won't be so easily led away from the truth by the same tricks, Mr. LeBlanc."

Tricks?! Robin fumed internally, You're the one pulling new evidence out of thin air!

"Let me guess," the prosecutor smirked, "you were planning to suggest that a third party slipped in through the window?"

"Er, well—"

"Impossible," Lloyd snapped his fingers so that the sound reverberated throughout the courtroom, "In case you've forgotten, Mr. LeBlanc, Misses Lorca and Monell's office was on the eleventh floor. It was more than 120 feet off the ground, meaning unless you happened to have a rope or an aircraft, there would be no reaching such a window."

"But—"

"And before you say anything stupid, there were a number of other buildings nearby from which anyone could have easily spotted a person scaling Heron Corp's office, and there was no rope found on the premises at any time during the investigation."

Shoot, Robin's face fell, he read me pretty well. I guess it was pretty obvious what I was going for, especially given how much an open window saved me last trial... Still, I have to believe there's something Eliwood isn't telling me. I wonder if I could press him on something else...

"Your Honor," Llyod inhaled, "having evidently silenced the defense, I would like to suggest that we move on from this questioning."

"Hold it!" Robin commanded, "Mr. Fremont, I have something else important to ask you!"

"What is it?" he blinked.

"I was wondering, what led you to go to the office in the first place?"

"Eh? Oh... I wish I knew, truly. I knew Lyn and Nephenee were fighting, and I knew they were meeting that evening, so I was a little worried... I was feeling nervous about their safety that evening, so I called Lyn's phone, but she didn't answer. I tried Nephenee after that, but I got the same result, and that's when I really started getting anxious. When I heard that slam outside the building, I ran to the elevator—"

The attorney's face stretched as his eyebrows jumped up. The prosecutor had a similar reaction, as he clenched his fist while staring in the witness's direction. "Could you repeat that, Mr. Fremont?" Robin pounced, "What did you hear?"

The redhead's eyes shifted to each side of the room, "Uh, I heard a sort of thud outside the building, in the direction of our office."

"Clearly, it was the sound of Ms. Lorca hitting her victim, or perhaps Ms. Monell's body falling over after the attack," Lloyd tacked on.

"I'm not so convinced," replied Robin, "Mr. Fremont, did you encounter anything else that seemed strange on your way in?"

"Um, I'm not sure," he rubbed his neck, "The elevator was kind of slow, I suppose. I... I can't say."

"Do your inquiries have a purpose, Mr. LeBlanc?" the judge demanded, "Is there some greater significance to Mr. Fremont's observations?"

"Of course there isn't," Lloyd Reed shook his head, "Mr. LeBlanc is simply grasping at straws in an effort to distract the court from the truth, as is apparently his habit. So what if Mr. Fremont heard a noise? It can be explained. There's no point to any of this."

I have a theory, Robin thought, but there's no proving it right now. I can't fight without the proper tools. Better to just sit back and see how this one plays out. Maybe I can just redirect the conversation and get a little more information.

"Well," Robin's voice cracked, feeling heat upon his neck, "between the open window, the clandestine meeting, the slow elevator, and the mysterious sound, I'd like to hear from the supervisor Mr. Fremont mentioned, I think."

"Oh-ho," the prosecutor chuckled, "I'm glad we're in agreement. In order to provide the last and most decisive proof of my allegations, the prosecution would like to call the victim and defendant's superior, Ms. Heather Luxberg."

The blonde was wearing a mauve suit that didn't fit her shoulders properly as she marched up to the witness stand and replaced Eliwood. In contrast to that lone display of formality, she wore jeans and flat white shoes, although her eyes managed to captivate many looks from around the room. She placed her hand on her hip when she faced the two attorneys.

"Name and occupation?" Lloyd demanded.

"You just heard it," she rolled her eyes.

"For the record," he insisted.

"Heather Luxberg," she droned, "I'm a sales division manager at Heron Corp, meaning I'm the immediate superior of both he defendant and Ms. Monell—er, the victim." When she finished, realization flashed in her eyes and she glowered at Robin, who lamented his luck and shrunk slightly.

"Ms. Luxberg," Lloyd began, "given your position, would you mind telling the court if you knew of any conflict occurring between Misses Lorca and Monell?"

"Yeah, I knew," she frowned, "I had heard from Nephenee that Lyn had been avoiding her a bit at work. She talked to me about it, but I told her it was more of an HR kinda problem. Maybe a day later, I got a notification from HR that she'd been harassing Lyn. Now, that struck me as weird, because Nephenee had never harassed another person in her goddamn life, if I had to bet, and she certainly had never shown signs of confrontational behavior in the two years, so I had my doubts, but I passed the message on anyway, but then they both just stopped getting near each other. Now I feel pretty confident that complaint was a set-up: Lyn was trying to get Nephenee angry, and then get her fired, but when that didn't work, she agreed to that meeting and sprung a more violent kind of trap."

"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen," bowed Lloyd, "Even before the crime took place, the defendant and victim were at odds, and the defendant even tried to get the victim fired. When she failed, the defendant arranged a meeting with her victim and killed her. The circumstances of that murder are supported by evidence found at the scene by detectives, and the findings of those detectives are in turn supported by the testimony of the individual who contacted the police. There is no doubt about the truth of this case."

"I must say, I'm inclined to agree," nodded the judge, "The facts do seem exceptionally clear and well extracted. Still, in the interest of fairness, I turn it over to your cross-examination, Mr. LeBlanc."

"Thank you, Your Honor," he sighed, "Ms. Luxberg, can you account for the open window that Mr. Fremont observed?"

"Objection!" shouted the prosecutor, "Enough, Mr. Leblanc: that window is immaterial to the case, it is impossible for anyone to have entered through it."

"But—"

The judge pounded his gavel, "I concur with Mr. Reed: it seems highly doubtful that anyone might have made use of the window. I grant that its being open is an oddity, but without evidence from you, Mr. LeBlanc, I'm afraid I can't see any reason to consider it anything more than that."

"W-Well, how about this?" Robin tried to recover, "Ms. Luxberg, you seem very sure that Ms. Lorca's complaint was false. Why is that?"

"Because, Nephenee never harassed anyone in that damn office!" she snarled.

"How do you know that?" he continued.

"Because I saw her all the time! I watched her when she interacted with that girl, and she never had a bad word about her! It was nonsense!" Heather continued to growl.

"Objection!" Lloyd spat, "Quit badgering the witness."

"Is there a point to this, Mr. LeBlanc?" asked the judge, reaching for his gavel.

"My ultimate question to you, then, Ms. Luxberg, is this: if all that is true, why would Lyn file the complaint in the first place?"

"W-What..?"

"You heard me. Why would Lyn file a complaint with your HR department if she never had problems with Nephenee?"

"Because she wanted Nephenee fired!"

"But why?"

"Now, listen here—"

"It doesn't make any sense," Robin shook his head, "The prosecution, at the conclusion of this testimony, has claimed at least two things: Lyn and Nephenee started fighting over an email sent to Lyn that said Lyn had stolen a promotion from Lyn, and Lyn made a harassment complaint. But it was also claimed that the two were avoiding each other, so how could that happen?"

"Just what are you saying?" Lloyd folded his arms.

"Lyn and Nephenee both said they were avoiding each other, and that fact was confirmed by multiple witnesses, so answer me this: how could Lyn allege harassment if everyone near them knew they were deliberately avoiding one another? If Nephenee never got involved, as you say, the allegation should have disappeared, but according to you, she was disciplined to some degree. How could that be?" Robin folded his arms.

"Your Honor," scoffed Lloyd, "this is completely irrelevant. I don't know why the defense is so eager to plague us with logistical questions that have no bearing on the case—"

"Hey, lawyer," Heather interjected, "Defense guy. What did you say about an email?"

"Didn't you hear?" Robin cocked an eyebrow, "Lyn mentioned in her testimony that the reason she started avoiding Nephenee was because she got an email from Nephenee accusing her of stealing a promotion."

"What?" her face screwed up, "But she never sent any such email."

"Ms. Luxberg—"

"And how do you know that?" Robin noticed.

Heather was dumbstruck for a moment, "Uh... uh... I was... as a manager, I'm an administrator on all of my employees' work email accounts... I can see anything they send or receive."

Robin turned to the gallery, "Lyn, Eliwood, is that true?"

"...No," they said in unison. Murmurs picked up through the crowd.

Robin turned back to Heather and pressed his advantage, "Now, why are you lying to us, Ms. Luxberg? I'm just asking for the truth."

"You lousy, rotten... I oughta shove my foot straight up your—"

"Ms. Luxberg!" the attorney slapped his desk with both hands, "Tell the court the truth! Why are you lying about your interaction with Nephenee?"

"Sh-Shut up!" she growled, "You bastard! I hate you! I'm not saying a word!"

"Seems we're at an impasse, Mr. LeBlanc," remarked the judge, "Is there any way we can continue? Do you have something to tell us?"

"That's right!" shouted Lloyd, "If you're so sure Ms. Luxberg is lying, why don't you tell us the truth, then: what is Ms. Luxberg lying about with regards to Nephenee?"

Robin shrugged. I sure as hell hope I'm right about this. "Ms. Luxberg, I believe the pieces have fallen into place. There's only one reason why you so staunchly defend Nephenee and know every detail of her struggle, why you were so broken up when you arrived the morning after the crime, why you acted so contemptuously to Lyn and her attorney, why you've lied to insulate yourself from questions about her... Heather Luxberg, you were in a romantic relationship with Nephenee Monell!"

Heather stepped back, then hung her head, letting her long, flowing, golden hair droop over her face. After a moment of silence, she sighed and lifted her head back up, "You're right, of course."

"Huh?!" Lloyd's hand tensed as it grasped the end of his desk.

Heather's eyes appeared glassy as her mouth spread into a smile, "I mean, could I make it any more obvious? I tried to hide, to pretend when I was at work, but, really, I don't think anyone would be surprised. It's not right for me to get close to one of my subordinates—breach of contract and all that—but Nephenee..." The blonde let out a long sigh, "If you'd only known her, you'd have given up anything to be with her, too. She was the greatest: passionate, smart, humble, a good listener... So... there was no way I was gonna sit back and let her good name be ruined by that... hussy." Heather indicated Lyn with her finger, hissing as she pronounced the word.

"And because of that," Robin tread carefully, "you've been holding back something else, haven't you? Something that affects how you're seeing this whole picture."

Heather only sniffled. "And just what is it you claim the witness is holding back?" Lloyd beat his desk with his fist.

"The ID registration records, right, Heather?" Robin pleaded, "There's something bad on them, isn't there?"

"ID registration?" repeated the judge, cocking an eyebrow.

Robin elaborated, "When an employee enters certain rooms, like the office the defendant and victim worked in, they have to use an employee ID that stamps the time of their entry or exit."

"Ah," nodded the judge, "but why would Ms. Luxberg conceal something like that? It seems like important evidence for the police investigation."

She swiped a lock of hair out of her face and pulled a crumpled, haphazardly folded scrap of paper out of her pocket and lobbed it at Robin, "Oh, shut up and just take the stupid thing."

Robin read it, smoothing out the riveted edges, and felt his pupils narrow, "Look here... 'Nephenee Monell: 7:57 pm, Lyndis Lorca: 8:04 pm... Nephenee Monell: 8:22 pm.' That's the last log for the day."

"I'm confused," the judge admitted, "what, exactly, is so significant about those times?"

"They're around when the meeting was supposed to take place..." Lloyd swallowed as realization hit him.

"But more importantly, it shows that Nephenee approached the door shortly before Eliwood came onto the scene and phoned the police. If this record is to be believed... Nephenee was up and moving, she left the room, several minutes before Eliwood found her dead, but Lyn never left," The attorney concluded.

The judge's eyes widened now, too, "What?! Why, but this changes everything we assumed about this case... if Ms. Lorca was unconscious, but Ms. Monell was still alive... The facts of this case are completely altered."

"You know..." Lloyd had shut his eyes and was clenching his fists, "It's a serious offense to withhold information from the police."

"As if I care," Heather rolled her eyes, though the tears in them remained, "Everything that matters to me is gone now. You think I'm scared of jail time? Idiot."

The judge banged his gavel a few times, "Well... this is certainly an interesting development. And, for the time being, it appears both defense and prosecution lack sufficient evidence to prove their cases. As a result, I will hereby postpone this trial until tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, I will expect both counsels to conduct thorough reexaminations of the evidence and to find all the information necessary to settle this case, am I understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor," both lawyers concurred.

"Very well then, this court is adjourned."

[October 8th, 2:08 pm, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 4]

Robin nodded solemnly to Lyn as the guards led her away. One more night in a holding cell was better than a decade in a federal prison, he had assured her, as well as himself, because those shimmering emerald eyes were hard to turn away. Before they left, Lyn glanced at one of the guards and wriggled her hand a bit in the cuffs that pinned them to her back. She entreated the guard with those same eyes, then made her request, facing the attorney: she wanted him to take her hand, if only for a moment. Robin blushed a little, but it was an easy request to obey, so he walked behind her and put his hand on top of hers. His palm dwarfed hers, the delicate porcelain hand beneath his was only about half the size, if that, and so when she felt the pressure from his touch, she folded it into his whole hand, interlacing their fingers first, and then shrinking it into a ball, expecting him to do the same. He complied. Her hands felt cold.

When that episode was concluded, he returned to her face, which was now bearing a ghost of contentment. She thanked him and let herself be led away.

Rath wasn't as pleased. He made that much known when he seized the attorney by the shoulder from behind, "What the hell was that?"

He whipped around, feeling his heart skip, "What?!"

"Why were you getting friendly with her just now?" the young man demanded, eyes narrowing.

"She asked me to take her hand," he reported, "nothing more. She's feeling afraid and alone, and it was the least I could do to ease her suffering."

"The least you could do is jack," Robin had the sense that Rath was holding his tongue, his cheeks twisting as his jaw tried to find the words, "She's my sister. I don't need anyone getting in her business, least of all her creepy, slimeball lawyer.

Robin's fists clenched, "I only did it because she asked. All I did was take the poor girl's hand. I worked with Fado Verlaine for years, I know how this works, and I know how to keep it from escalating."

"'Know how this works?'" the mafioso repeated, anger stinging his voice, "How what works, you asshole?"

"What just happened there," the attorney tried to soften his voice, "She doesn't actually want anything to do with me, she's just in a dark place. She sees someone helping her, someone talking to her when no one else will believe, and someone who's trying to help her make sense of it all, and so she tries, with or without knowing it, to pay the feeling back by acting romantic."

Rath bared his teeth and seized the attorney by his lapels, "You sayin' she's loose, you scumbag? You callin' my sister a floozy? 'Cause I'll break your scrawny neck right here, in full view of everyone, you piece o' garbage!"

"Listen!" Robin commanded, only half-succeeding at remaining calm, "I'm not saying that at all! I'm saying she's confused, and she wants to thank me, but doesn't know exactly how. A week after the trial, it'll have all sublimed and she won't give me a second thought, but right now she's just trying to manage her feelings. I'm saying this because I've seen it before, I've been taught about it, and I've been shown how other attorneys destroyed their careers because of it. Romancing a client is completely unethical, and I'd probably be disbarred for it. It's not happening."

Rath set him down, jabbing a finger into his chest, "Well, you just listen here, awright? It better not be happening, 'cause if it is, you don't need to worry about the trial, I'll kill you before it's over. Just keep your filthy mitts off my sister, you got that?"

"Sure," Robin breathed, hoping to end the conflict.

"Good," the mafioso spat, whipping around and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Robin sighed as he watched a few of the guards in the lobby raise their eyebrows. He was glad none of the jurors had seen that, else Lyn would be in serious trouble. But for today, they were safe. That meant more work tomorrow, but at least Robin could breathe easy for an instant. With that said, he remembered, and picked up his phone, putting in the number.

The call was answered after just two rings, "Hey, Robin."

"So, you finally listened to me," he grinned.

"I was just finishing up lunch," she muttered, "What do you want?"

"Uh, I just finished the trial," he said, checking his memory to ensure that was the case.

"Oh!" he heard the sound of a plate moving and her stuffing down the rest of her food. He could hear her half-full cheek as she spoke, "What happened? Did you get the little mafia princess off?"

"Well, they suspended the trial until—"

"I mean, I know you got her off, the way her voice sounded when she phoned the office yesterday..."

"Anna, c'mon!" he huffed.

"Hey," she chuckled, "I'm not judgin'. She's a pretty girl, and she'll keep you well connected for life, Mr. Mob Lawyer."

"Anna," he fumed, "you told me to call you after the end of the trial, and I quote, 'To make sure I'm still alive, 'cause gods only know what could happen to me on this silly case.' I'm trying to comply to your request. If you're just gonna screw with me, I'm hanging up."

"All right, all right, settle down," she sighed, "Well, go on, what's the story?"

"The trial's suspended. I have to investigate again tomorrow and be prepared for a second day of testimony."

"So, baby steps, at least, huh?"

"I guess. I'm glad I got this far, anyway."

"How was Mr. Lloyd 'Eats-Defense-Attorneys-for-Breakfast' Reed?"

"Good. I mean, bad. I mean... he was better than most prosecutors I've seen, even with Fado—"

"You've only seen two not with Fado, so..."

"Not the point. He's no pushover, that's for sure. He controls the court really well, and he's smart enough to match me blow for blow, to anticipate things. But, then again, he's not completely immune to being thrown for a loop. Just gotta keep on my toes."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"I wish. I'm taking it one moment at a time."

"Will you be coming back to the office before closing?"

"Yeah, I've got some reading to do. Plus, I'm starving. I'll be leaving in a sec, I should be there in about half an hour, depending on traffic."

"Okay. See you then," the phone clicked silent.

Robin sighed, reading wasn't the half of all the things he had to do. And he was more than starving by now.

[Turtle Dove Turnabout ~ Trial Day 1-End]