She’s got her BlackBerry grasped in her hands, her thumbs flicking over the keypad.Devon takes the seat across from Dom. “Yeah, I guess.”“Good.” Dom raises an index finger, a wait-a-second signal. “Hold on.”They are inside a small conference room outside the courtroom, one of four situated across from the row of molded plastic seats that are against the wall. The same row of seats where Devon had sat that very first day here, waiting for her first court appearance. That day, Devon hadn’t even noticed the four olive-colored doors to these rooms.Devon scans the small space. Empty except for the table between herself and Dom. This time, instead of an attached stool, Devon sits in a folding chair, one of four around the table. But the walls are still cinder block, coated with the white paint, and the floor is covered with that familiar gray carpet.She feels like she’s going to puke, her heart is pumping that jittery pregame adrenaline through her body and into her limbs. She feels sleepy, too.
