YUKI STUDIED JUNIE MOON as she was sworn in by the bailiff.

  Defendants weren’t required to testify. It couldn’t be held against them if they didn’t, and it rarely helped when they did. So it was very risky to put your client on the stand. No matter how well rehearsed, there was no way to know if your client was going to go rogue, or get flustered, or laugh at the wrong time, or in some unique way prejudice the jury against her.

  But Davis was putting Junie Moon on the stand. And the citizens of San Francisco and trial watchers across the country were dying to hear what she would say. Junie’s white blouse hung from her shoulders and her plain blue skirt billowed around her calves. She’d lost weight in jail - a lot of it - and when Junie raised her right hand to take the oath, Yuki saw vivid bruising on her forearm.

  Spectators gasped and murmured. And now Yuki understood why Davis had risked everything she’d gained to have her client testify. Junie looked nothing like a whore and a ghoul.

  She looked like a victim.

  Junie swore to tell the truth, stepped up to the witness stand, and sat with her hands in her lap, smiling trustingly as Davis approached.

  “How are you doing?” Davis asked.

  “In jail, you mean?”

  “Yes. Are you doing okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine.”

  Davis nodded, said, “Good. And how old are you, Junie?”

  “I’ll be twenty-three next month.”

  “And when did you start turning tricks?” Davis asked.

  “When I was fourteen,” Junie said softly.

  “And how did that come about?”

  “My stepdad turned me out.”

  “Do............