Good. I decided to burrow a little deeper.
“Working on it? Just like you’re working on solving Cocheta’s murder? Was that just an accident, too? Did Cocheta accidentally get lynched in her own backyard?”
“Goddamnit, Mary!” Mick swung his right arm and swiped everything off the top of his desk. Coffee cup, papers, pens, pads. His nostrils were flaring. “I don’t answer to you!” he shouted. His chest was puffed out, voice rumbling. “I’m an elected official—just like you. The voters gave me this position. I answer to the people.”
“Yeah, well, the people are wondering why you can’t solve a case.”
I stood up. He still towered over me. “Get out of my office,” he muttered. “Before I lose my temper.”
I looked down at the mess on the floor. “I think you already lost it.”
“Fuck you!”
“Thanks for the Coke.”
“Leave!”
Whatever. I was tired. I wanted to go home, anyway. I picked up my bag and turned to head out the door. When I was almost there, Mick called after me.
“Hey, Mary! You wanna know what the people are saying to me? What I hear is they want to know why Judge Mary Stone won’t get that goddamn abortion case over and done with! Try the fucking case! Then everybody in Bullock County can put it behind us.”
I paused for a second. Was that really what folks were saying about me? Maybe so. But I’d never admit it. Not here. Wouldn’t give Mick Owens the satisfaction.
As I walked out into the hallway, he had one more thing to say. He shouted it so loud everybody in the office could hear it.
“If anyone gets killed over this abortion case, Mary—that’s on you! It’ll be your fault! Blood on your hands!”
CHAPTER
49
His words stayed with me. The accusation preyed on my mind. I kept thinking about what he’d said, that I was the one responsible for damage being done. I was to blame for the harm that folks were suffering.
Paying mind to Mick Owens’s judgment was a novel circumstance. I’d never held his opinion in high regard. Not even back in high school, when we were going out. I wasn’t attracted to his brain back then, as I sat in the wooden bleachers. Watching him run down the court in a Hornets uniform. Leap into the air and dunk the ball.
But even Sheriff Owens could be right on occasion. Like a broken clock, twice a day. So I’d been turning an idea over in my head. Something that might reduce the probability of violence and unrest in Union Springs. I was almost convinced that it was the best option.
That, or the worst. There was a possibility that it would hasten the demise of the community. There was that, too.
I hustled past Luna’s desk on Friday, so deep in thought I forgot to sayGood morning.She jumped out of her chair and followed me.
“Judge? Got something you need to see.”
I pulled my suit jacket off, hung it on the coatrack, right by my black robe. “Somebody file something? I’ve been waiting for confirmation of a settlement from Barry McCurry. Has he called?”
“No, no court business. It’s a media thing.”
A wave of irritation rolled, almost making my skin itch. “Stop right there!”
I extended my hand, like I was face guarding her.
“Luna, don’t devil me with the nonsense you see on social media. I’m determined to keep far away from that. If I don’t read it, don’t see it, it can’t ruin my day.”
“Judge, I think you should check it out.”
I leveled a look at her. “Luna. Is it something on social media?”
“Yes, it’s on social. But that’s not the only place.”
