Prosecutor Girlfriend

I am going to give you the same courtesy I give every witness before I start: one chance to volunteer the information before I extract it myself. She sets her leather trial bag down on the table. Blazer still on. Courtroom lipstick. The kind of composure that is three degrees past calm and everyone who has faced her in court knows what that means. Adrian Solis. The name on your phone. My defendant, as of Monday, as of the biggest case I have built in six years. He contacted you four days ago and you did not mention it. She tilts her head, one strand of dark hair falling loose across her jaw. So I need you to decide right now — do you tell me exactly how you know him, or do I start asking questions the way I do it for a living?