Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
The gavel came down with a single, sharp crack that sounded like a dry branch snapping in the woods.
Sable sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the empty judge’s bench. Her face had turned a dull, chalky white that made her red lipstick look like a wound.
Nathan stood up slowly, his knees locking as he pushed back his chair. “You signed my name?”
Sable did not answer him. She did not look at him. Her red fingernails remained flat on the mahogany table, motionless for the first time in two hours.
“Let us go, Cassandra,” Frank said, picking up the silver key chain and dropping it back into his pocket.
We walked down the center aisle of the courtroom, the heavy oak doors swinging shut behind us with a soft, pneumatic hiss.
The marble steps outside the courthouse were wet from the morning rain, the grey clouds finally beginning to break over the downtown skyline. A yellow cab was idling near the curb, its tires throwing up a thin spray of dirty water.
“Mom,” Nathan called out from behind us.
