PART 3 The courthouse smelled like wet coats, old paper, and coffee that had been burned for too many hours.

Savannah had imagined walking into a courtroom differently.

Maybe in a navy dress.

Maybe with her hair done.

Maybe standing tall enough that no one could see her shaking.

Instead, she arrived in a wheelchair with a hospital bracelet still around her wrist, three newborn blankets tucked carefully across her lap, and a diaper bag hanging from the handles continue reading …