Joshua rose and kissed him. “Thank you, myyedid. But we’re not done yet.”
He disappeared into the kitchenette and returned with two plates of blueberry pie, each slice crowned with a scoop of butter pecan ice cream. Setting one in front of Colin, he flashed a triumphant grin. “Nowit’s amazing.”
Colin stared at the plate, then at Joshua, shaking his head. “No, my love.You’reamazing!”
They spent the evening snuggled close on the couch, the soft glow of the Omni’s oversized TV casting flickering light across the room. Colin pressed his face into Joshua’s hair, letting the scent anchor him.
For a while, Joshua remained silent, his fingers tracing slow, absent patterns against Colin’s arm. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “I can tell something’s bothering you.” His touch stilled for a moment. “Are you able to tell me?”
He tried for a smile. “Not yet. I promise—it’s nothing bad. Just… I can’t talk about it yet.” He pulled Joshua closer, hoping that was enough. “Soon.”
The routineof his office the next day did little to help Colin regain his focus. At the prosecutor’s table, he flipped through his case file for the fourth time. State v. Holloway—a routine probation violation hearing. Easy. Except his mind kept drifting to Moreno. The meeting. The unknowns. The danger to himself and Joshua. Judge Whitmore entered, and everyone rose. Colin followed suit automatically, barely registering the standard courtroom greetings before taking his seat.
“Mr. Campbell, let’s get to it,” Whitmore said, adjusting his glasses. “State’s position?”
Colin stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. “Your Honor, the defendant, Mr. Holloway, violated probation byfailing to report for two consecutive months and not completing his drug counseling sessions.” He glanced at the report, the words swimming on the page. “Given the repeated nature of these violations, the Commonwealth recommends revocation and imposition of the underlying sentence.”
The defense attorney, Marcy Feldman, shot to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is ignoring critical context.”
Colin blinked. Context? He glanced back at the file.Had he missed something?
Feldman approached the bench. “Mr. Holloway’s probation officer was on leave for two of the weeks in question, and his replacement never returned Holloway’s calls. The drug counseling program he was assigned to lost its funding and shut down. There’s no evidence my client was willfully noncompliant.”
Colin’s stomach lurched. He knew that! It was in his notes—he’d seen it, skimmed it. Why hadn’t he remembered?Because my mind is a thousand miles away.
Judge Whitmore’s gaze landed on Colin. “Mr. Campbell?”
His fingers tightened around the folder, but he kept his expression neutral. “The Commonwealth acknowledges the extenuating circumstances,” he said, voice steady, measured. “However, Mr. Holloway still had the responsibility to report and follow up. That said—” he glanced at Holloway—“given the circumstances, the Commonwealth is open to modifying the probation terms rather than full revocation.”
Whitmore studied him for a moment, a flicker of surprise in his eyes—Colin never missed details like this. “Probation will be reinstated with a thirty-day extension to complete an alternative counseling program. Mr. Holloway, see that you take advantage of this second chance.”
The gavel came down, and the hearing was over.
Colin let out a slow breath and sat down, anger at his screwup flaring in his chest.Goddammit!Too damned close!
Feldman packed up her papers, then turned to him, one brow arched. “What’s up withyou?”
Colin forced a shrug. “Off day.”
She snorted. “Not like you to be this distracted.”
She walked away, and Colin sat a moment longer, letting his breathing settle.I’ve got to keep my head in the game!he thought.
He forced himself to remain focused through his final court cases, shutting out the looming weight of the afternoon’s meeting. He stayed sharp—every objection measured, every argument precise—but it took effort. Too much effort. By the time he returned to his office, the strain had settled deep in his bones. He shut the door and dropped into his chair, exhausted.
He glanced at his watch, ten minutes past noon, then shot a glance toward Norman Clayton’s office. Seeing him still at his desk, he rose and walked to his door, tapping lightly on the frame. “Norm?”
Clayton sighed and set down his pen. He studied Colin for a long moment before gesturing to the chair across from him. “Close the door.”
Colin did as he was told and sat, eyes fixed on his superior. “I know we don’t have the full picture yet, but can you tell me what you’re thinking?”
Clayton leaned back, arms crossed. “You bet! I’m thinking that you’re too damn close to this.”
Colin bit back a retort. “I can be objective.”
Norm snorted. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. With a threat like this? OverJoshua? Please.”
Colin exhaled hard, leaning back. He hated not being in control, not having a role to play, and, most of all, he hated knowing that Norm was right.
