The courthouse interior was a study in institutional decay. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, some of them flickering with the irregular rhythm of failing ballasts. The linoleum floors bore the scuff marks of countless footsteps—lawyers, defendants, witnesses, the machinery of justice grinding slowly forward. Water stains bloomed across the ceiling tiles like a spreading infection, and the air carried the stale smell of old paper and disinfectant that couldn't quite mask the building's deterioration.
Kelly moved through the hallway toward the holding area where she'd arranged to meet Marcus. Her heels clicked against the floor, each step echoing with purpose. She'd prepared extensively for this meeting—the inconsistencies in the safety reports, the timeline discrepancies, the maintenance records that suggested the machinery had been in worse condition than the original investigation had documented. It wasn't enough yet, but it was a beginning.
She was halfway down the corridor when she saw him.
James Wagner emerged from the prosecutorial offices, his charcoal suit pristine despite the courthouse's shabby surroundings. He carried a file folder under one arm—and Kelly's stomach tightened when she recognized the case number on its spine. Marcus Webb's file. His eyes met hers across the distance, and something flickered there—recognition, wariness, and something else that made her breath catch.
They hadn't been in the same room since the Morrison trial eight months ago. Eight months of careful distance, of emails routed through proper channels, of a professional courtesy that felt like a lie every time they maintained it.
James slowed his pace. He didn't stop walking, but his stride became deliberate, controlled. His jaw tightened slightly as he watched her, and Kelly could see the internal calculation happening behind his eyes—the same calculation she was running. What did his presence here mean? Why was he reviewing Marcus's file?
The hallway between them seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously. Other courthouse staff moved around them, oblivious to the tension that had suddenly crystallized in the air. Kelly forced herself to keep walking, to maintain her professional composure, but her mind was already spinning through possibilities and complications.
This was supposed to be straightforward. A case review. A meeting with a client. Nothing more.