They were, but I was too ashamed to admit it. The employees wanted a shortcut from the parking lot for their breaks. That would have to change. There was an elementary school behind the courthouse. If hell ever broke loose, those kids could be in danger. I needed to talk to the County Commission.
Loucilla tipped back her beer. When she set it down, I was ready to change the subject. Thought we could talk about her life for a bit, rather than mine. I said, “So tell me about your ex. Has she recovered from her broken heart? Or is she still calling in the middle of the night?”
“You think you can distract me that easily? I’m not done with you yet.”
I considered a restroom run, just to create a break in the conversation. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“You think you can avoid this topic?” My friend laughed in my face, didn’t try to hide it. “You’re sitting on the biggest case Alabama’s ever seen. This could be the most significant court decision on individual rights and science since the Scopes Monkey Trial in Tennessee in the 1920s.”
For the moment, I was speechless. The parallel was daunting. Was I ready to rise to the challenge?
Loucilla wasn’t put off by my silence. “Of course you can’t go into specifics. You have an ethical obligation. But just let me say this.” She pierced me with a look through her eyeglasses. “You can make history.Do the right thing.”
My shoulders sagged. Within the space of a couple of hours, I’d been instructed to do the right thing by two people with opposing views who devoutly believed they were on the ethical and decent side of the issue.
I lifted the ear of corn from my dish and bit into it, hoping to silence the discussion. But my friend kept talking. “But maybe it’s too much, more than you signed on for. You know, Mary, that’s okay. You know you can dodge it altogether. Make it someone else’s problem. You could drop out of the judge’s race right now.”
I dropped the corn onto my plate. Couldn’t protest, because my mouth was full.
She said, “If you withdraw from the election, you know what would happen? Your term ends, new judge gets elected and takes your place. Someone else, some other judge, would try that criminal abortion case. It doesn’t have to be you. Girl, you could let that cup pass.”
I just shook my head, wondering,How many times will I be advised to step away from the Bria Gaines case?
Loucilla was trifling with me, willfully misunderstanding my situation. She couldn’t have been serious when she suggested that I drop out of the judge’s race. I had an obligation to the citizens of Bullock County. I’d sworn an oath to faithfully discharge my duties as judge of my Alabama circuit. I took that responsibility seriously. It was sacred to me. Who would take care of the people of Union Springs if I just dropped out?
When I could speak, I said, “I never quit anything in my whole damn life.”
She hid a smile. “Hmmm. I guess that’s true.”
Our dinner talk was subdued afterward, even stilted. We split the bill, as was our custom. I was afraid my reticence had erected a wall between us, but as we walked out of the restaurant, she linked her arm through mine.
When we paused on the sidewalk, I saw the figure in his hiding place. A man standing deep in the shadows across the street hadhis phone pointed directly at the two of us—certainly appeared to be taking photos. I nudged Loucilla.
She dropped my arm. Squinted through her round glasses, took a step toward the curb. “Hey!” she called out.
The guy darted away, disappearing into an alleyway. Loucilla turned toward me, wearing an expression that saidWhat the hell?
“Was that my imagination?” she asked.
It wasn’t. But I couldn’t explain it. “Looked like he was taking our picture.”
“Damn, Mary. It’s starting. Paparazzi are already chasing after you.”
“Nobody’s chasing after me. Must be a mistake.” I was serious. In my years as a lawyer and a judge, no one had ever snapped a picture of me outside the courthouse. “I don’t think he wanted my picture. Maybe they mixed us up with somebody else.”
“No, ma’am. You’re an influencer, an overnight sensation. You’ll have to get used to the attention.” She teased me about it as we walked to the parking garage. “You’re going to need to buy some new clothes, Mary. Something with style, clothes that make a statement. You have to be camera-ready.”
I laughed along with her.
When we fell silent, an uneasiness, even tension, arose. We both carried that constant sense of watchfulness, the notion that things could go bad at any time.
All the way home, I caught myself looking in the rearview mirror. Like I thought someone might be following me.
CHAPTER
18
Tuesday morning, nine o’clock.
