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Mom and Scott confer in low voices for a few minutes as the prosecuting attorney walks in and gets settled, and then the bailiff tells everyone to rise as the judge comes in. Judge Conway is a severe looking woman with a white and gray bob and reading glasses hanging around her neck. She settles herself behind the judge’s desk like a queen settling onto her throne, and nerves prickle my skin.
Unlike Scott Parsons, this woman does look put together. She looks like once she’s made up her mind about something, she won’t change it, and she doesn’t look like the type to tolerate incompetence.
Fucking great.
I sit on my hands to stop them from fidgeting nervously as the pre-trial hearing begins. The proceedings go on for several hours, and I do my best to follow along, but it’s like watching a sport I’ve never seen before. I don’t know who’s up and who’s down, if Mom is doing okay or if things are going terribly.
By the time the hearing is adjourned, I’m a nervous wreck.
I give Mom a wave and a forced smile as she’s escorted out by a guard, and then I get up to leave, following the flow of people heading out of the room. I tug my cellphone out of my pocket and shoot a text to Linc.
ME: I’m done. The hearing just finished.
His response is almost instantaneous.
LINCOLN: Leaving now. Be there soon.
School is still in session, but the guys were adamant about me letting them know the second I was finished. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just stood up and walked out of class mid-lecture.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and step into the ladies’ room. As I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, then I splash a little water on my wan looking face and dry it with a paper towel. It doesn’t make me look much better, but I feel a little more human as I step back out into the hallway.
I head toward the entry, and I’m rounding a corner when I almost collide with someone walking the other direction. I let out a surprised yelp, and hands reach out to steady me.
“Sorry!” I blurt. “I—”
Hazel eyes stop my voice.
Judge Hollowell gazes down at me, dressed in black robes just like Judge Conway was.
“Oh, Harlow.” He smiles kindly.
“Hi,” I choke out.
“What brings you here?”
“My mom.” Fuck. My face feels numb. I can’t remember how to breathe. “Her pre-trail hearing was today.”
His hands are still on my upper arms, and the grip of his long fingers through my sweater burns and freezes at the same time.
“How did everything go?” he asks, lowering his voice slightly as his brows bunch in concern.
I’m not sure if he’s really supposed to be asking me about that, and under other circumstances, I might feel grateful to him for taking that risk to check in with me.
But right now, all I feel is pissed off.
I just watched my mom shuffle out of a courtroom in handcuffs, and Judge Hollowell wants to know how it went. He probably wants to know if he needs to plant more evidence, or if we’re already losing so badly that he doesn’t need to bother.
“It… was okay.”
My lips feel stiff as they form the words, like my body is freezing solid. I take two steps back. I can’t help it. The feel of his hands on me is making my stomach want to turn itself inside out.
“Good. Good.” He’s still smiling, but watches me carefully as I slide out of his grip. He cocks his head to the side, lowering his voice a little more as he asks, “And what we talked about—has that helped?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, probably more honestly than I should. But the misery tingeing my voice actually seems to make Hollowell relax.
He gives me another reassuring smile, reaching out once more to squeeze my upper arm. “It’ll all work out, Harlow. If you need to talk, you can give me a call, all right?”
“Right. Thanks.”
