Kelly's hand froze mid-reach. She forced herself to relax, to breathe, to become the person Margaret expected to see—a lawyer working alone, unremarkable and forgettable. She pulled her hand back slowly, leaving the envelope untouched on the table.

James had already shifted in his chair, angling his body away from the window with the practiced ease of someone who'd done this before. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips, his expression settling into professional neutrality.

Outside, Margaret paused at the coffee shop window. For three endless seconds, she stood there, her eyes scanning the interior. Kelly's heart hammered against her ribs. She kept her gaze fixed on her notebook, aware of every micro-expression, every tell that might betray her.

Then Margaret's phone buzzed. The prosecutor glanced down at it, and whatever she saw pulled her attention away from the window. She continued walking, her pace quickening as she headed toward the courthouse three blocks away.

Neither Kelly nor James moved for a full minute after she disappeared from view. The other patrons in the coffee shop remained oblivious, absorbed in their newspapers and laptops. Marcus wiped down the espresso machine with methodical indifference.

Finally, James's hand moved across the table. This time, his fingers did brush against hers—a contact so brief it might have been accidental to any observer. "That was close," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kelly nodded, her mouth dry. The envelope still sat between them, impossible to retrieve now without drawing attention. They'd have to leave it, had to let it sit there like evidence of their recklessness.

"We can't keep doing this," she said, the words feeling like a lie even as she spoke them. She didn't want to stop. God help her, she didn't want to stop.

James pulled his hand back, and Kelly watched the mask settle back over his features—the prosecutor's face, the one that showed nothing of the conflict raging beneath. "No," he agreed quietly. "We can't."

But they both knew they would. The envelope would disappear into Kelly's bag within minutes, and they would continue meeting in this coffee shop between shuttered factories, gambling with both their futures against the slim chance that justice might finally prevail in Auburn.