The holding room was colder than it needed to be.
That was intentional.
Miguel felt it the second the door shut behind him—the kind of cold that crept through fabric and settled into bone. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, one of them flickering like it couldn't decide whether to live or die.
Janice Lee sat at the metal table, hands folded, back straight.
No lawyer. No makeup. No confidence left to waste.
She looked up when Miguel entered. Not hopeful. Not relieved.
Measured.
"You're not Alan," she said.
Miguel pulled out the chair across from her. Sat.
"No," he said. "I'm not."
She nodded once, like she'd expected that answer.
They stared at each other for a beat. The silence pressed in, thick and uncomfortable.
"Is he really dead?" she asked.
Miguel didn't rush it.
"Yes."
Her shoulders dipped. Just a fraction. Like something heavy had finally landed.
"They said it was random," she said. "Like that makes it better."
"It doesn't," Miguel said.
Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Didn't quite make it.
"So," she said. "They send you to clean up?"
Miguel leaned back slightly. Let her see he wasn't afraid of the question.
"They wanted to," he said. "I didn't let them."
That earned him a longer look.
Janice leaned forward, elbows on the table. Her cuffs clinked softly. Sound carried in here.
"You taking the case," she said, "or just visiting before they hand me a public defender who hates my guts?"
"I'm taking it," Miguel said.
"For how long?"
"Long enough."
She exhaled through her nose. Sharp. Controlled.
"You know they already convicted me," she said. "On TV. On Twitter. On cable news with graphics."
"I know," Miguel said.
"They don't need a trial," she continued. "They need a body. Preferably mine."
Miguel didn't interrupt.
He pulled the file from his bag. Opened it slowly.
"Walk me through that night," he said.
Janice laughed. Bitter.
"You mean the version they like, or the one that gets me killed?"
"The one that keeps you alive," Miguel said.
She studied him again. Then sighed.
"I left the council building at nine," she said. "Meeting ran late. Same old zoning bullshit. He voted against the housing proposal. Again."
"The victim," Miguel said.
"Councilman Price," she replied. "Champion of ethics. Private fan of kickbacks."
Miguel made a note.
"I went home," she continued. "Changed. Ordered takeout. Called my mother. She yelled at me for not visiting."
Her jaw tightened when she said it.
"Then?" Miguel asked.
"Then I got the call," she said. "From Price. He wanted to meet. Said it was urgent."
Miguel looked up. "You went?"
She met his gaze. Didn't flinch.
"I went because I thought he was scared," she said. "And because if I didn't, he'd spin it."
"Where?"
"His car. Near the river. Neutral ground."
Miguel's pen paused.
"You get there," he said. "What happens?"
Janice swallowed.
"He was already bleeding," she said.
That was new.
Miguel stayed still.
"He was slumped forward," she continued. "Door open. Engine running. I thought he was drunk."
Her fingers curled slightly.
"Then I saw the blood."
Miguel leaned in.
"You touch him?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "I was stupid."
"No," Miguel said. "You were human."
She didn't look convinced.
"I reached for him," she said. "Tried to see if he was breathing. That's when the headlights hit us."
She shook her head.
"Cops came out of nowhere," she said. "Too fast. Like they were waiting."
Miguel's jaw tightened.
"They pull you out," he said.
"They pulled me like I'd already done it," she said. "Hands behind my back. Face on the hood. Cameras everywhere."
Her voice stayed even. Her hands didn't.
Miguel noticed the slight tremor now. The way her shoulders held tension like a locked door.
"Did you see anyone else?" Miguel asked.
She hesitated.
"Maybe," she said.
Miguel waited.
"There was a car," she said. "Dark. Parked across the street. Engine on."
"You tell the police?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"They told me I was in shock."
Miguel wrote it down anyway.
He closed the file.
"Listen to me," he said. "They didn't pick you because you're guilty."
Janice scoffed.
"They picked you because you're convenient," he continued. "Young. Ambitious. Not part of the old boys' club."
Her eyes flicked up.
"And because you scared someone," Miguel added.
That landed harder.
"You think this was about politics," she said.
"I think it was about silence," Miguel said.
She leaned back slowly. Let the words settle.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now," Miguel said, "they try to break you."
She laughed softly. "They're late."
Miguel shook his head.
"No," he said. "They haven't started yet."
A guard knocked on the door.
"Time," he said.
Miguel stood. Gathered his things.
Janice rose too, chains rattling.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly.
Miguel paused.
"Because they killed my lawyer," he said. "And because they don't get to decide who deserves a trial."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
"Okay," she said. "Let's ruin their week."
Miguel almost smiled.
As the guards led her out, Miguel stayed behind for a second.
The cold didn't bother him anymore.
They had their scapegoat.
Now he had a case.