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“Arizona laws are pretty clear.”
“File whatever you have to file to get me a paternity test.”
“You aren’t thinking straight, Kirk.” Kirk knew Troy Winston only dared say the words because he couldn’t see Kirk’s face. That muscle in his jaw started to tic.
“I’ve never been thinking straighter,” he said softly. “That child is mine, and I will do whatever it takes to be a part of his life. If I have to sue, I’ll sue. Just get me that paternity test.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Kirk was pleased as he disconnected the call—in spite of the offended tone he’d heard in the voice of his most trusted associate.
He was sorry he’d been rough on Troy. Maybe even sorry that this would rock Susan’s world. But he was going to do this.
He was determined.
And he was Kirk Chandler.
Thumb on the keypad of his cell phone, Kirk dialed the direct line to Edgar Gandoyne. It was now almost eight-thirty in Virginia. And Kirk had half an hour to get to work.
“ALL RISE.”
Valerie walked through the hall door leading from her office to the courtroom after a five-minute break, taking a deep breath as she went through the change from emotional woman to detached judge.
“You may be seated.”
The six other people in the small room sat as she took her seat on the bench. Smiling at Ashley, the court clerk who usually worked with her, Valerie checked the day’s files.
Mona, the bailiff working this morning’s schedule, announced the first case in the same clear, unemotional voice Valerie had been hearing since her first day on the bench.
As Ben White’s name was announced, Valerie glanced up, looking at the four people sitting on the dais eight feet in front of her and six feet below. Behind them was a hard wooden bench that could seat maybe four visitors. And an upholstered, sound-buffered wall.
An intimate setting for their little party.
The visitor’s bench was empty.
Ben was looking down. She waited.
A couple of seconds later the twelve-year-old boy gave a surreptitious and very hesitant glance in her direction.
She smiled at him. And forced herself to ignore the catch in her lungs. Ben might be the same size as Blake and Brian, but his life was not theirs.
He was the most important person in that room and she wanted him to know it.
Those eyes were trained in her direction for only a second, but she read the fear there.
She called for those present to introduce themselves.
Debbie Malcolm, state prosecutor on the White case, went first.
“Gordon White, father to the juvenile.” Ben’s father had been in her courtroom before.
“Leslie White, mother.” As had she.
Ben was next. He stated his name, looking at her briefly, and then lowering his eyes.
Ben’s attorney, Tyson Hunter, a public defender Valerie saw often, was next. During the difficult first minutes of this proceeding, everyone in the room, with the exception of Ben, was occupied with whatever papers were in front of them.
There wasn’t a lot of eye contact in Valerie’s working life.
