Sounds came from the kitchen. Cupboards and drawers, opened and closed, metal tinkled against metal, water ran, and Mom hummed.
Pretty sat on the couch talking into the phone, "Thank you."
Pretty punched the red button, set the cordless on the coffee table, and stared across the room. A single tear made it's way toward her chin.
Mom came in with coffee, "Are you OK?"
"I still don't know anything. The courts close at nine, but they don't lock the doors until ten."
"Maybe he's telling the truth."
"I doubt it."
Pretty sipped her coffee, "I should call his boss."
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