The Fall on the Courthouse Steps

The courthouse steps were too white for what happened on them.
Morning sun struck the stone columns, turning every face into evidence. Lawyers stopped with folders under their arms. Reporters lowered their cameras. Even the city traffic seemed to hold its breath.
Amelia Hart lay halfway down the stairs in a navy dress, one hand gripping the edge of a step, her blonde hair loose against the stone.
Daniel Voss dropped beside her, shocked too late.
Above them, Natalie Crane stood in a cream suit and high heels, her chin lifted as if the staircase belonged to her.
She had only meant to make Amelia look weak.
That was what she would tell herself later.
But everyone had seen the shove.
Amelia lifted her eyes, not to Daniel, not to Natalie, but to the dark wooden doors at the top of the courthouse.
They opened slowly.
Three men in black suits stepped into the sunlight behind an older man with silver hair.
A few people stepped forward, then stopped when they realized the scene was no longer just an accident.
There was a difference between concern and fear. The crowd had concern. Natalie had fear. Daniel had both, and neither one arrived in time.
Natalie's smile died before anyone said his name.