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Heart pounding in her chest, Valerie held the phone with a sweaty palm. “Afraid of something at home?”
“I hope not,” Kirk said, his voice grim. “I was hoping it was more like someone waiting to mess with him on the way home. You know, older guys. That’s why I followed him home—from enough of a distance that he didn’t know I was there, of course.”
Valerie smiled. Kirk Chandler was a good guy.
“I take it there was no problem.”
“None.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“If the problem wasn’t on the way home, where was it?”
“Unless waiting made the route safe.” Valerie hoped so.
She could make a phone call. Sign an order, even though she wasn’t the judge on call that weekend. Have the boy removed from his home.
She had the smoking thing to back her up.
Sort of.
Official channels had not brought her that piece of information.
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, needing to think about something else. She just couldn’t get a clear read on the Billings case. Couldn’t quite find the detachment that came so naturally in the courtroom.
Perhaps because she wasn’t in the courtroom.
And that was the only place she should be dealing with the Billings case.
“Not much,” Kirk said. “Studying films for our games next week. Working on plays.”
“You aren’t Coach Chandler all the time,” she told him. Didn’t the man do anything outside his school functions? They simply weren’t consuming enough to fill a lifetime. Especially not the lifetime of a man as dynamic as he obviously was.
“These boys actually have a chance to make the play-offs,” he said. His voice didn’t sound quite as…excited, as engaged, as she had a feeling it should be. Could be. He always seemed to be holding something back. “It’ll be a first for Menlo Ranch. And I’m going to do everything I can to help them get there.”
“Surely watching films isn’t going to take all weekend.”
“You hinting for a date, Judge Simms?” The lazy tone took on a hint of sensuality. Valerie lowered her legs to the carpet. Crossed them.
“Of course not. I promised the boys a trip to the science museum. And there’s a movie they want to see.
They spent the next few minutes discussing movies—most of which he hadn’t seen.
“You did it again,” she said, breaking into his commentary on sequel films and the capital they generated—a commentary that could have been given by a financial analyst.
“Did what?”
“Sidetracked me from gaining any insight whatsoever into the real life of Kirk Chandler.”
“You know what you need to know.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“We are.”
“Friends get to know each other.”
“What do you want to know?” He didn’t sound irritated exactly, but he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he’d been seconds before.
