CHAPTER THIRTY
Kat could tell something was wrong.
As she sat in the back of the courtroom, she watched while Ash Pierce was brought in. She immediately sensed that something was off, even if she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She’d been to so many of Pierce’s hearings in anticipation of her trial starting next week—over a dozen now—that she had become familiar with the assassin’s routine and tics.
As that last word—tics—tumbled around in her brain, something clicked for her. Ash Pierce didn’t really have tics. Everything she did was measured and controlled. The way she breathed methodically throughout the proceedings no matter what was said to or about her. The way she kept her gaze calmly focused on the person speaking, whether it be the judge, a lawyer, or someone offering information from the witness stand. The way she always placed her hands on the table, left hand over right, almost never moving them unless she was writing an occasional note to her attorney. She was the epitome of self-control.
But not today. Kat doubted that anyone else even noticed. But she did. As the hearing began, Pierce’s breathing seemed ever so slightly more rapid than usual. When someone spoke, her head darted in that person’s direction more quickly than it otherwise would. And her hands, typically still and relaxed on top of the table, were slightly more active. Every now and then, she would switch things up and place her right hand on top of her left. After a few minutes she would go back to the original position.
Eventually it became clear to Kat what was going on. Ash Pierce was hyper-alert today. More than that, she seemed borderline nervous. But Pierce never got nervous. It was part of her thing. In the video showing her killing four prison transport guards while escaping, she always moved with methodical precision, never in a rush, never out of control. So why was she different today, even if it was imperceptible to everyone else?
Kat wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like it. Seeing Pierce this way made her nervous. But what was she supposed to do about it? Go up to the bailiff and tell him the defendant was acting minutely different than usual, and he should pass that on to the other guards. Tell the prosecutors? Ask to see the judge in chambers. If they didn’t laugh right in her face, they’d probably say that the woman was about to go on trial for her own life. Of course, she was nervous.
Then Kat remembered that there was one person who might believe her and could potentially do something about it: her best friend, Jessie Hunt. Jessie would take her seriously and if she passed along the word, so would everyone else.
Kat resolved that at the next break in the proceedings, she would call Jessie. With that decided, she tried to settle in and let go of the anxiety that was needling at her. But then she looked at Pierce again. The woman switched her hand placement for the fourth time in ten minutes. Kat’s stomach began to churn.