“You actually showed,” Dallas said, looking up from his cell phone as Harlan crossed the long corridor toward him. “You didn’t have to.”

“You said that already,” she sighed, touching his arm gently and smiling up at him. “But who’s going to keep you from going all homicidal maniac if this doesn’t go your way?”

“Are you implying you could stop me?” he asked, looking down at her tiny frame. “Not unless you have some grenades in your purse.”

“I’m scrappy,” Harlan teased, balling her hands into fists and pretending to prepare for a fight. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dallas insisted, and she knew coming had been the right choice as she saw a bit of worry slide off his face when he smiled.

“Dallas, I think you should stay out here,” a mousy looking woman in an ill-fitting pantsuit said as she propped a hand on her hip. Her hair was pinned back with random clips that were hardly doing their job. “Emotional outbursts won’t help Tim’s future court appearances.”

“Melissa, please stop talking like we’ve already lost this one. Tim deserves a new trial.” Dallas checked his watch for the hundredth time.

Melissa shook her head in agreement, but her expression didn’t match. There was a clear sense of defeat around the edges of her makeup-free eyes. “I agree that he deserves a new trial, but proving inadequate representation is difficult. Especially in front of the judge we’ve got today.”

“Hello,” Harlan said sweetly, trying to break the tension. “I’m Dallas’s friend Harlan. He’s had a lot of great things to say about you, Melissa.”

“What?” she asked, her frizzy hair bouncing as she spoke. “I’m sorry, you said your name was what?”

“Harlan,” she said, plastering on the same smile. “Weird name I know. I hope things go well for you in there today.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Melissa asked, looking distrustfully at Dallas.

“No,” Dallas defended. “She’s a friend of mine, and she offered to come today. It’s not a joke.”

“Because for as long as I’ve been involved in Tim’s case,” Melissa started, “you’ve been essentially on your own. I haven’t so much as seen you grunt at another human being, let alone call someone a friend.”

“Shouldn’t we go in?” Dallas asked, changing the subject with absolutely no finesse.

“We can,” Mellissa shrugged, her eyes fixed on Dallas, “as long as you are sure you can keep it together no matter how the judge rules today. No outbursts.”

“I’m fine,” he said, straightening his back. “I’m an adult. I can control myself.”

Harlan had the urge to slip her hand in his, to let him know she was there and he wasn’t alone. Instead, she reached up and touched the back of his arm, just for a moment.

“You sure you’ve got this under control?” Harlan asked quietly as they stepped into the courtroom and took a seat a row behind the defendant’s table. The rigid wood bench was anything but welcoming. A reminder that this room held little comfort for anyone. Either you were rooting for justice or hoping for a miracle. Either way you had a fifty percent chance of getting your heart broken.

Harlan could see only the shaggy hair and orange jumpsuit of a man she presumed was Tim.

Dallas cleared his throat loudly and Tim turned halfway around. Harlan caught the edges of his profile, and her heart melted as a small nod passed between the two men.

The courtroom was all wood and high ceilings, and Harlan wondered how long it would be before she and Rylie would be back in a place like this. The divorce had been anything but smooth so far and the idea of having to battle him for years to come ripped at her.

As the hearing began Harlan could feel the tension rise in Dallas, whose arm was pressed against hers. His breath was rigid, and he had to keep swallowing back the words he wanted to interject. But he stayed contained.

“With the information provided today and the testimony yesterday the court does not feel Mr. Andrews’s sixth amendment rights to a fair trial were violated. The principle standard is to determine whether the lawyer's conduct so undermined the functioning of the judicial process that the trial could not be relied upon as producing a just result. Though some of the original defense may have been compromised in some way due to a medical condition of the attorney, there is no substantial evidence that the outcome of the trial would have been impacted.”

“No,” Dallas hissed through his gritted teeth, “the guy fell asleep during part of the trial.” His voice was growing louder but stopped suddenly when Harlan laced her fingers into his. He clamped tight around her hand and drew in a deep breath.

“Let Melissa handle it,” she whispered back. “There is more you can do. But not right now.”

“Damn right there is more I can do,” Dallas grunted. “This is insane. There’s evidence out there that hasn’t been explored. Why isn’t she bringing that up?”

“There are multiple reasons you can appeal, but they all have their own process. She’s hedging her bets. This was the weakest appeal opportunity. The odds of winning an appeal on the grounds of a bad lawyer are low. Courts lean toward the fact that any given lawyer's conduct falls within the range of reasonable professional assistance.”

The gavel cracked down a few moments later, and Tim was escorted by bailiffs from the courtroom. Melissa gathered up her paperwork and moved quickly toward them, almost anticipating the need to move Dallas into the hallway.

“What about the evidence, the things I’ve told you? Why didn’t you bring those up?” Dallas looked ready to pounce, to call everyone back in and force them to hear him out.

“We’ll get there,” Melissa said, raising a cautionary hand. “There’s a process to all of this. It won’t move as quickly as you’d like, but we are moving forward. The examples you’re calling evidence may not even be admissible in court, let alone meet the standard required for a new trial to be granted.”

“Can I see him?” Dallas asked, watching his friend disappear through a side door in the corner of the courtroom.

“I’m going back to see him in a few minutes. They won’t let you back. But I’ll tell him you were here and when he’s back at the prison you’ll be sure to set up a visit.” Melissa’s nostrils were flaring now as she checked her watch. “Take him home,” she instructed, eyeing Harlan knowingly.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out today,” Harlan offered, but it fell miles flat against the disappointed faces of Melissa and Dallas.

When Melissa turned and walked away without a goodbye, Harlan could sense the tension between them wasn’t based on anything besides frustration for lack of progress. Both seemed passionate about finding the truth but didn’t agree on how to do it.

“What kind of evidence have you gathered?” Harlan asked as she practically ran to keep up with Dallas.

“It’s complicated,” he grunted, not sparing her a glance as he plowed forward.

“Try me,” she challenged. “Maybe some fresh eyes could help. I’m good at this kind of stuff.”

“You’re good at proving a man innocent of murder?” Dallas asked, his anger channeled at her. Expected and easy to forgive.

“I’m better than no one. I’m better than going home and staring at the same stack of papers, waiting for something new to pop out. Plus, I make a great ham and cheese sandwich.”

“What about your girls?” Dallas asked, his rigid stance softening some as though he were warming to the idea.

“I’m going to get them at my mother’s house soon. She’s got a great study. We can set up in the house while the girls play. They’ll be glad to stay longer.”

“Ham and cheese?” he asked, mock intrigue lighting his face.

“Yep, I’ll even cut the crust off if you say the magic words.” She winked as she turned and kept walking.

“This almost one-night stand is dragging out longer than you said,” Dallas joked with a raspy laugh. Flashes of last night’s fleeting passion rippled over her body as he said the words, and she could tell it showed on her face. His eyes were raking over her and a flush filled her cheeks.

“Never mind,” she replied, pursing her lips. “You’ll have to cut the crust off yourself.”