I softened my voice. Asked a question that wasn’t on the form. “Did you get any medical attention? See a doctor or go to a clinic?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have a doctor. I used to see Dr. Gaines, but she’s mostly shut down her office now.”

  In past months, I’d heard the same refrain from a number of folks in my courtroom. Medical care took a hit in our town when the DA filed his felony case against Bria Gaines.

  I was concerned for the woman in court, worried about her physical condition. Felt compelled to come down from the bench, to take a closer look. I couldn’t take the chance that she was neglecting a serious injury.

  She looked nervous as I approached. I inspected the marks that were visible, took note of swelling and discoloration, the reddish hue on her battered skin.

  “Did you take pictures of yourself? Pictures that show the injuries covered by your clothes? I’ll need to see them, if you have them.”

  She nodded. Pulled them up on her phone and handed it to me.

  I flipped through the images. My head started pounding as I looked at the pictures. My eyes grew hot. Quietly, I asked, “Did you call the police?”

  “No, ma’am. I was too scared, shook up. I just got out, me and my two boys.”

  “I see.” That was the plain truth. I did see. “Kids in school right now?”

  “Yes, the grade school behind the courthouse.”

  I studied her. She looked like she was about to drop, she was so spent. I wanted to show emotional support, to give her a hug, but I didn’t dare. I was afraid I’d hurt her anywhere I touched her.

  Gently, I reached for her hand and held it. “I’m worried he might’ve broken something,” I said. “Damaged you more than you know. I sure do think you ought to go to the hospital. And file a police report, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Maybe so.”

  “This is not your fault. You know that, right? There’s no reason in the world why he’d be entitled to do this to you. No justification.”

  “Thank you, Judge. I understand that.”

  Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine when she said it, though. She took a breath and said, “Mostly, I just need to get me a court order. So he’ll know to leave me alone.”

  Maybe, I thought, we can revisit the issue after the order is entered. I returned to my seat at the bench and continued asking the standard questions.

  “Is the defendant the father of the children?”

  “No, ma’am—Judge. They not his.”

  “All right.” I glanced at Luna, to let her know I was ready to enter the order. “I hereby find that this court has jurisdiction. And that a temporary order is necessary to prevent abuse. That the defendant represents a credible threat to the physical safety of the plaintiff.”

  The courtroom door opened, then slammed shut. I ignored it. I was filling in the boxes on the ex parte protection order form. “This court hereby orders that defendant LeRoy Stuart is restrained from committing or threatening to commit acts of abuse; and that the defendant is restrained from any contact with the plaintiff, Ada King. This order will be effective until further order of the court.”

  I had my eyes on the paper in front of me, was signing my name in blue ink. I heard the footfalls pounding on the wooden floor. Looked up.

  He was stomping down the middle aisle of the courtroom. The defendant, without doubt. Walking with a swagger with his eyes fixed on his fiancée. The young woman was scooting away from him. She clearly believed he posed a threat. I shot a look at my bailiff. Ross was already on his feet.

  The chip on the dude’s shoulder was almost visible to the naked eye. Stuart swung his gaze from the fiancée to me. In a belligerent voice, he demanded, “Did I hear you say I can’t have any contact with my own woman?”

  “That’s right, Mr. Stuart. You cannot.” I held the form aloft. “You’ll get a copy of this, so you can read the contents.”

  “Don’t I get a trial?”

  “Nope.”

  He stepped closer, pointing a finger at me. “I know the law. You can’t do nothing to me without a trial.”

  My voice was sharp. “You gonna tell me about the law? This is an ex parte protection order. If you wish, you can request a hearing at a later date. It’s all set out on the form. I recommend that you read it thoroughly as soon as I give you your copy.”

  He turned, gave his battered fiancée the evil eye. Then he turned that eye on me again. “So I’m supposed to read the paper? Don’t get to say anything in my own defense?”

  “That’s right.” In my no-bullshit tone.

  That man was itching for a fight, I could tell. And he couldn’t punch Ms. King, not in court. So he wanted to fight with me. He raised his voice—way too loud for a court of law. More like a volume he’d use in a barroom.

  He said, “So you better explain this to me. How am I supposed to not have any contact with her when we live in the same house?”

  I stood up. Because I was getting that urge, the one that frequently pushes me out of my chair and down from the bench. “Mr. Stuart, I have ordered that you be removed and excluded from the residence.”

  He flat-out shouted, “I own that house! It’s mine!”

  I was losing my cool. I could feel it slipping. My own voice made an echo in the big courtroom when I replied. “It doesn’t matter who owns it. You are removed from the residence until I order otherwise.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I already did!”

  I was getting hot. In the figurative sense, my temper was getting out of hand. But the anger heated me up, making me perspire under the black robe. A trickle of sweat made a path between my shoulder blades and down my back.

  He was hot, too. “You can throw that piece of paper in the goddamn trash! I’m not afraid of you!”

  “You should be! If you’re not afraid, you’re a damn fool!”

  Ross, the bailiff, had taken a position between the angry defendant and the battered plaintiff. There was nothing to be gained by my entering the fray. But I was itching to climb down those steps and get into his face.

  I almost went down there. Had to stop myself.

  I grabbed the gavel instead. Pounded it three times before I pointed it directly at the defendant. “Violation of this order is a Class A misdemeanor. You’ll do a year in jail for that. I promise that you will serve every single day of that time. I don’t want you within three hundred feet of this woman or her home, or place of work, or the children or their school. I’m not just talking about punching and kicking, you understand. You are restrained from harassing her, stalking her, threatening or annoying her.”

  At that juncture, he wouldn’t look at me. He had his head turned toward her, was scowling at his fiancée.

  “You understand me?” I demanded. I wanted to hear him acknowledge it.

  He lifted his chin. Didn’t answer, didn’t look my way. Kept eyes on his fiancée while she backed away, like she thought he’d punch her out again in a court of law.

  As part of standard courtroom equipment, I have a microphone at the bench. But I don’t actually need one. I raised my voice to maximum volume. “Mr. Stuart! Do you hear me?”

  I knew he did. They could hear me across the street.

  He gave a sullen nod. Muttered an acknowledgment. It wasn’t until Luna made copies of the order and they were served to both parties that I collected myself.

  Sat back down in my chair and surveyed the back of the courtroom. As I pulled out a fresh box of tissues and used one to dab at my neck, I observed that we had an audience.

  The DA was there, with a blond-haired woman wearing a sharp business suit. She had her arm around the shoulders of a young Black girl. I knew that girl on sight: Nova Jones.

  Thirteen-year-old Nova Jones was in my courtroom. And it appeared that I’d just scared her to death.

  CHAPTER

  32

  Tell the truth and shame the devil. I was mortified.

  Not that I regretted taking the wife-beating maggot in hand. He needed the slap-down I’d just delivered. But I didn’t intend to give it in front of an audience.

  Not that audience, anyway. I didn’t want to frighten a child, a vulnerable young girl.

  The DA ambled down the aisle toward me. “Do you have a minute, Judge?”

  There was nothing wrong in the words he used. It was the air he always had—like he owned that courtroom. Owned the whole county, everyone in it. Makes me mad as hell! Because I promise you, I care more about the community than that self-serving ass does.

  I was in danger of self-combusting that morning, but Reeves hadn’t noticed that anything was amiss. “I’d like to make some introductions,” he said, in that flat voice.

  Luna and Ross had separated the battered woman and her fiancé and had ushered Ada King and LeRoy Stuart out of court. I descended from the bench and approached the DA, hoping to ease the courtroom experience for the child he’d brought along.

  “Good morning, Mr. Reeves. Who all do you have with you today?” I cut my eyes at Nova and smiled. Inside my head, I was calling out to her: Are you okay? I’m here for you. I got you, Nova. Trying hard to convey to her that I wasn’t the Wicked Witch, or Cruella, or Ursula. Whoever she thought was the scary lady.

  Reeves didn’t introduce Nova, not then. “Judge, this is Eleanor Lindquist, she’s with the attorney general’s office. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

  “I believe I have,” I said, nodding at her. “I read about a case you handled in Selma.”

  She extended her right hand, gave me a brisk handshake. “Honored to meet you, Judge Stone.”

  “Likewise. What brings you to Bullock County, Eleanor?”

  The woman exchanged a glance with Reeves. He did the talking. “Ms. Lindquist is going to assist as co-counsel in the Gaines case. That’s why we’re making the rounds today. Eleanor wanted to be introduced to courthouse personnel, meet the law enforcement involved in the case.”

  “That’s right,” she said. She patted Nova Jones’s shoulder. “And I wanted to get acquainted with this young lady. We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

  Really? That’s pretty sus, I thought. The prosecution didn’t need a personal relationship with a young and vulnerable State’s witness. A professional relationship, certainly. But the chumminess she was displaying seemed a little off. Smacked of coercion, almost.

  When the woman started patting Nova’s shoulder like she was somebody’s pet, it made my hackles rise.

  And she kept on talking. “Your Honor, I’ve had some cases with young witnesses. And I’ve found that it’s crucial to introduce them to the process. Give them an orientation that goes beyond a verbal description of what to expect at trial. I want my witnesses to feel at ease. So I take them on a tour of the courthouse. First on the agenda: Make sure they know where the restrooms are. That’s an important thing to know, right?”

  Laughing, she nudged Nova, like they were just having a good time. The woman was full of shit. That thirteen-year-old was facing public testimony in a case that exposed her most painful, intimate secrets. It was going to be an excruciating experience.

  I watched Nova Jones, to see whether the AAG’s sales pitch worked. Maybe not. Nova’s eyes were shuttered, her muscles appeared taut—like she was prepared to cut and run, if necessary. Smart kid; she wasn’t fooled. Testifying in a court of law ain’t no fun for nobody.

  I picked up the vibe; the girl wanted to get out of the room. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Is this some holiday I’ve forgotten? Shouldn’t Nova be in school right now?”

  The queen of the AG’s litigation division chattered on. “Judge, it’s a school day. But it was imperative that we schedule this session. This is a valuable part of the orientation. I want to give Nova access to the courtroom. So she can see what it’s like in here. Where she’ll stand to take the oath, and then sit while she testifies.” She grasped Nova right above the elbow and ushered her down the aisle. “See, Nova, where Judge Stone was standing when we walked in? That’s the bench. She sits up there. And the chair beside her, that’s the witness stand. That’s where you’ll sit. The jury is in that box.” She pointed at the jury box with its twelve empty seats.

  Then with a sweep of her arm, she showed her the counsel tables for the prosecution and the defense. “I’ll be right here, with Mr. Reeves. Unless I’m up by the witness stand, talking to you.”

  She paused, looking expectantly at Nova. Nova picked up the cue, gave a quick nod.

  The woman flashed a broad smile. “I haven’t made the most important introduction! Judge Stone, I’d like to introduce Nova Jones.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Lindquist was still talking. “Nova, Judge Stone will be in charge of your case. Whenever she speaks to you, you’ll call her ‘Judge’ or ‘Your Honor.’ Can you remember that?”

  “Stop!” I had to shut her up or I was gonna lose my mind.

  Lindquist caught her breath, as if I’d choked her. Honestly, I kinda wanted to.

  I said, “No need for introductions. Miss Jones and I have met before.”

  “Is that right?” The woman sounded surprised, but it was a shade overdone. I wondered whether she already knew about Saturday breakfast when she’d planned this whole exchange. “Nova, you never mentioned this. How long have you known the judge?”

  Nova looked confused and a little frightened—like a kid who thinks she’s in trouble but doesn’t know what she’s done wrong.

  I had to cut that scene short. Lindquist would need to learn; I didn’t play. “Miss Jones probably doesn’t remember me; it was a brief meeting, and I wasn’t wearing my robe.”

  Eleanor Lindquist wouldn’t let it go. “Is that true, Nova? Do you remember meeting the judge or not?”

  Nova lifted her eyes and briefly inspected me. “We go to Saturday breakfast sometimes. Mom says it’s at Missy Mary’s house. And Mama told me she was a judge. But she didn’t look like it. Not at the farm.” Nova lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “She just look like everybody else.”

  “Yeah, it’s the robe that does it. Nice to see you again, Nova. I’ll let y’all continue your courtroom tour. I have some work to do in chambers.” I turned to go. Needed to escape before I snapped at the prosecution. I didn’t want to scare Nova a second time.

  Didn’t make it through the door before I heard that woman call my name.

  “Judge Stone, just a heads-up! General Winston’s going to be in town today. He’ll probably want to talk to you.”

  Shitttt. Dick Winston was coming to sit his butt down in one of my office chairs. The prospect made me want to spit. I’d have to be polite. Smile when I really wanted to snatch him bald.

  Goddamn Mondays.

  CHAPTER

  33

  The offhand comment from Eleanor Lindquist was all the notice I received heralding the AG’s visit. He never let me know he was coming. No call from a secretary requesting an appointment.

  Fortunately, I wasn’t fated to spend the whole day dreading his arrival. The attorney general sailed into Luna’s office right before we shut down for lunch.

  My door was open, so I witnessed his entrance. Watched him flash a benevolent smile at my administrative assistant.

  “Tell Judge Stone an old classmate of hers from University of Alabama is here.”

  Luna wasn’t in on the game. I hadn’t alerted her. “Sir, it’s twelve o’clock. I’m about to lock up for the lunch hour. Do you have an appointment?”

  I had to cover my mouth. Didn’t want him to see me grinning. I knew it was a blow to his ego when Luna didn’t recognize him on sight. The man thinks he’s a star, always has.

  The schmoozing politician disappeared. His voice was tight when he replied. “I’m Dick Winston, the attorney general of the state of Alabama. Go ask Judge Stone if she’ll spare me a moment of her valuable time.”

  I was quick to come to Luna’s rescue. I rose from my chair, called through the door. “Luna’s just trying to keep me on schedule. Come on back, Dick. You don’t need an appointment to see me.”

  Luna was flustered. She followed him, lingering in the doorway. “I’m really sorry, sir. For not knowing you right off.”

  He didn’t speak, wouldn’t acknowledge her apology. Asshole. I wasn’t going to let him freeze out my hardworking clerk. I said, “Luna, Dick has been in politics for a long while. He doesn’t get his feelings hurt by folks who intend no insult. Do you, Dick?”

  Dick unbuttoned his jacket before he sat down. Looked like he’d put on weight. “Certainly not.”

  I gave Luna a nod. “Close the door behind you, please.”

  Not because I was eager to be alone with the man. I wasn’t.

  But I figured he’d come to deliver a message. And he probably didn’t want an audience to hear it.

  He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Mary, I’m here to extend an olive branch. With regard to that telephone snafu. I hope you’re not upset by the governor’s slipup over the phone last spring. He’s a hotheaded guy, runs off at the mouth sometimes. Doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  Sure, I could’ve made it easy on him. But I wasn’t disposed to. Tipped back in my chair, like I was thinking it over. “I wouldn’t say I’m upset, exactly.”

  “Good, that’s good to hear. But I did want to clear the air, just in case.”

  Deadpan, I said, “Sure. It’s always good to clear the air.”

  “You’re not the sensitive type. Hell, I’ve known that since University of Alabama, right? Remember how we battled it out in moot court, back in law school?”

  I did recall. I beat him like a drum in those mock trials, but Dick always seemed to garner all the credit. Even when he cheated.

  I wanted to shout: I graduated summa cum laude, you bastard!

  He was waiting for me to respond. I made a neutral noise. Kept my mouth closed.

  “Hey, I hear you met my assistant today. Eleanor? She’s a tough competitor, I’ll guarantee that. Powerful litigator. Lots of courtroom experience.”

  “I’m familiar with her rep.” I was, actually. Eleanor Lindquist was becoming low-key famous in Alabama. Everyone in the law biz knew about the victories she’d won in high-profile cases.