Page 5

Grabbing my credentials from my car, I hurried back to catch the elevator. I still had forty-five minutes, which in court time, could mean two hours, but I wanted to get a fix on people as they went in.
After going through the security line a second time, I took another elevator up to the tenth floor, found the designated courtroom, and grabbed a seat on the bench closest to the door. I took out a pen and pad, and started scribbling notes.
I was biting the end of my pen when I saw the salad-stealing, muscle-headed man of the hour walking in my direction.
I shielded my face like I had earlier, peeking through my fingers in time to see him walk into a room on the other side of the hall. I breathed a sigh of relief and went back to my notes.
“Ahem,” I heard someone clear their throat less than a minute later.
I raised my head enough to see the toes of men’s wingtips on the floor, pointing at me. They were close enough that if I moved my foot forward just a little, our shoes would touch.
“You didn’t answer me earlier. What are you doing here?”
I had to crane my neck to see the giant’s face. In fact, I had to lean back to look up at him. “How tall are you anyway, like seven feet?”
“I asked you a question.”
“I’m obviously here for a…hearing.”
“Which hearing?”
I closed my notebook and shoved my pen in the spiral part of it, or I tried to; it was too big to fit, so I just held it.
When I looked back up, he was studying me with his head cocked. Oh no. Was there something on my face? Had I gotten ink on it when I was chewing on my pen? God, I was supposed to fade into the background, but the only thing I was managing to do was call attention to myself.
He tilted his head to the other side. What was he looking at now?
“Is that a press pass?”
“Pass? No. It’s a credential.”
“You’re with the press?” he said like it was something unpleasant on the bottom of his shoe. “Which news outlet?”
“The Express.”
He ran his hand through his hair and then rubbed the back of his neck. “You can’t be here.”
“I beg to differ, since I am.”
“Come with me.”
He waited, but I didn’t move. “Miss…”
“Graham.”
“Come with me,” he repeated.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He sat on the bench, beside me. “Do you have any idea what’s about to happen?”
“You’re going to try to get me kicked out of the courthouse, and I already told you, I’m not leaving.”
“In that courtroom,” he seethed, pointing.
“Yes, I believe I do. Opening arguments in an espionage case,” I snapped right back at him.
“No press allowed, so you’re wasting your time.”