watching the room.
Walter noticed, when he turned carefully, that Calvin’s eyes moved the same way they had when he was a boy reading the school building on his first day, memorizing exits.
On the prosecution side, Ashworth shuffled his papers with the practiced calm of a man in his natural environment.
And in the gallery, three rows behind the prosecution table, looking at nothing in particular, at the middle distance, the way people look when they are trying not to be looked at, sat a man in a gray
