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As Hattie spoke, I crossed my arms and clenched my teeth so tightly that my jaw ached. I hated this. Hated that she had been put in danger and I didn’t hear a word about it. Hated that she was still in danger, months later.

Then she faltered in her account and her gaze darted to me.

“Is there a problem, Miss Fields?” the judge asked.

“No,” she said slowly, dropping her gaze. Clearing her throat, she shifted in her seat, partially turning away from me. “One of the robbers screamed at us to get down on the ground. The other two robbers were preoccupied with shoving as much money into their duffle bags as they could. So, I saw the opportunity and I took it.”

A pause of anticipation descended over the courtroom.

“I ripped the robber’s mask off.” Hattie pointed at Welch. “I saw that man’s face.”

The judge gestured to a bailiff who wheeled in a television on a cart.

“I understand we have security camera footage to corroborate your story.”

You could hear a pin drop in that damn courtroom as the grainy footage flickered on the television screen. Hattie tugged at her earlobe, making a concerted effort to avoid looking in my direction.

Then Welch backhanded Hattie so hard that her head whipped to the side and she crumpled from the force of his blow.

“Motherfucker,” Blackbeard hissed under his breath next to me.

Big G growled. Baby Doll and Hot Shot shifted uncomfortably. The only one who remained still as a stone was Gatling, but the murder in his eyes was unmistakable.

I couldn’t look away from the security footage. Hattie remained huddled there on the floor, clutching her cheek, while Welch brandished his gun at her.

Then Welch’s attorney rose to his feet for cross-examination. I didn’t trust lawyers on a good day, but this guy had the disarming smile of a snake oil salesman.

“Miss Fields, it seems you have a colorful history in Brightwater.”

“I used to live here, yes,” she replied.

The attorney turned and gestured at me with a smug look.

“And could you inform the jury whether or not that man seated in the second row is your husband?”

Hattie hesitated.

“Miss Fields,” the attorney pressed. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

Leave her alone, asshole,I thought.

“He’s my ex-husband,” Hattie admitted. “We separated, thirteen years ago.”

“Regardless of your marital status, the police suspect this man tortured and murdered the comrade of my client. Can we really place any trust in this woman’s statement when she has known ties to a criminal herself?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Baby Doll said. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

The judge frowned.

“I will have order in my courtroom. Anyone causing disruptions will be removed.”

Baby Doll huffed and slouched in her chair.

“Let’s stay on track here, Mr. Trevello,” the judge admonished. “We don’t need to concern ourselves with who the police are investigating in another case.”

“I know what I saw,” Hattie said, chin held high, shoulders squared. Unwavering in her certainty. “You have security tape footage to prove it.”

“Technically, that footage only shows your face, Miss Fields,” Trevello pointed out. “My client cannot be identified from this video.”