Page 67 of Dirty Judge

“Hi, there!” She moved closer and extended her hand to me. “Oh, I just love that bag! It’s beautiful!”

“Thanks.” I smiled. “Do you need directions or something?”

“No.” She slid a hand into her pocket, pulling out a business card. “I’m Sylvia Castwell withThe New York Times. I couldn’t help but notice that you work in Judge Ashton’s office.”

“How did you notice that?”

“I’ve just seen your car there a lot over the weeks.” She smiled. “And now it’s here.”

“So, you followed me.”

“You don’t have to talk to me on the record if you don’t want to, but I could really use your help for my article.”

My smile immediately faded.

Women like her were journalists at their worst, and their slimy tactics gave us all a bad name.

“You do work for Judge Ashton, right?”

I didn’t answer, and she pulled out a recorder as if I’d agreed to talk to her.

“Have you noticed Judge Ashton acting weird lately?” She leaned closer. “Trouble sleeping? Harsher than usual? Anything?”

Yes… “Not really.” I kept my face stoic. “Should he be?”

“He should be feeling like utter shit, I think,” she said. “At least, you could confirm that for me.”

“I don’t really work that closely with him,” I said. “Why should he be feeling like shit?”

“Because—” She lowered her voice as if there were other people around us. “Grant Jenkins, remember?”

Why is everyone so obsessed with this basic DUI case?

“It was a big DUI case a while ago, right?” I played dumb. “I heard it was overturned, but I’m super new to this job. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She shook her head. “It’s actually good that you’re new. I could use someone not biased and on the inside, you know?”

I hope I never harassed anyone like this…

“Look.” She scribbled onto a pad. “If you could just subtly pry him this week on it and call me back, I’d appreciate it and I’d totally keep you off the record.”

“Pry him how?”

“Ask if he feels guilt for sentencing an innocent young man to jail, and then maybe—if you’re feeling super frisky—ask him if he feels dumb conflicted now that two jurors were bribed for voting guilty.”

“Um…” I crossed my arms, continuing to play dumb. “Even if two were bribed, doesn’t it take twelve unanimous votes?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “But apparently they were very pushy.”

“You’re not making any sense…”

“Judge Ashton refused to let them go home until they had a verdict,” she said. “I think they just gave in so they could leave…”

I blinked.

“He’s a dirty judge, and I know that this case will prove it,” she said. “Watch your back and call me whenever you can, okay?”

She rushed away as quickly as she appeared, and as much as I wanted to crumple her card and toss it into the wind, something told me not to.