The judge’s tone suggested that she shared the sentiment. Interesting. As Madison dressed the salad and put the finishing touches on the pasta, she made a mental note to look into the case manager.
Madison carried their plates to the table. The dish was basically elevated comfort food, easier to pull off than it would appear to someone who didn’t cook. The judge looked transported as she took the first bite.
“Luscious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom worked long hours when I was growing up, so I—”
She stopped herself. She’d been on the verge of saying that she cooked for herself and Danny.
“—if I wanted to eat, I had to cook. And I waitressed through high school and college. Not easy work, but I love restaurants.”
“This is restaurant quality. So good.”
“I’m glad you like it. Did you eat anywhere fun in DC? I hear the food scene there is fantastic.”
The judge set down her glass with a clatter, her face going gray.
“How did you know I was in Washington?”
“You mentioned that last night when your friend came to the door.”
She took a deep breath, seeming relieved. “Oh, I forgot. But I told you, he’s not my friend.”
She sounded like she meant it, and looked genuinely upset. Madison wondered again if this was some sort of abusive relationship. Maybe the judge needed help.
“What is he to you, then? Is he hurting you?”
“No. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Judge, you can trust me. My aunt was in an abusive relationship. I lived with them for a while, but didn’t know until he—”
Her stomach lurched. She’d been about to mention Hector beating Danny. God, she had to stop thinking about her brother, or she’d blow her cover with the judge. From the intent way Judge Conroy was watching her, she worried that she already knew.
“He what?”
“He was violent. Eventually, my aunt kicked him out, but it wasn’t easy.”
“I appreciate your concern, but you’ve got it wrong.”
“I just want you to know that I’m here to help.”
“This pasta helps. Conversation helps. Distract me.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“Tell me about Chloe Kessler and Ty Evans.”
Madison barked a laugh. “Seriously? Why does everybody always ask about Ty?”
“Because he’s interesting.”
“I’ll dish on one condition. I get to ask you something in return.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s the deal.”
“Fine. You first.”
“Let’s see. Well. I noticed Ty the first day of orientation. He was the best-looking guy in our year, and I thought, I’ve got no chance.”
“Oh, stop. No false modesty. You’re gorgeous and you know it, too.”
“Okay. What I really thought was, I want that guy, and I’m gonna get him. So I did a little maneuvering to make sure we wound up in a study group together. Anyway, by the third week of school we were a couple, but we were both so competitive. I just never felt like I could trust him, and that bothered me.”
“Trust him how? Was he a player?”
She paused, seeing an opening.
“Not with other women, no. It was more like I’d mention something I wanted, and he’d go after it, too. As a matter of fact, that happened with you, Judge.”
“With me? How do you mean?”
“With the internship.”
“But Ty didn’t apply.”
“I thought he was going to, because he tried to talk me out of applying. He warned me away from you.”
The judge’s eyes focused sharply. “Warned you how? Tell me exactly what he said.”
Huh. A chill crept down Madison’s neck. Judge Conroy wasn’t actually interested in her relationship with Ty, was she? She wanted to know what people at the law school said about her. Particularly Ty—and Chloe, Douglas Kessler’s daughter. Madison wasn’t the only one at this table fishing for information.
“Um—it was nothing. He just said you had a reputation for working interns really hard. At the time, I thought he wanted to clear the field to apply for the position himself. But then I heard the last intern was fired.”
The judge frowned. “You heard about that.”
“It’s getting around. Why was she let go?”
“Come on, Madison, you know I can’t discuss personnel matters. Let’s just say not every relationship works out. Speaking of which, what happened with you and Ty?”
“I broke it off at the end of the school year as kind of a bluff, to be honest. I figured he’d miss me over the summer and come crawling back all humble, the perfect boyfriend. Instead, I drunk-dialed him one night, and guess what? Chloe picked up his phone and said he was in the shower.”
“No.”
“Yep. They were both interning in New York. Turns out they got together like two weeks after we broke up. Served me right, I guess.”
“She’s a sly one. You’re not friends with her, are you?”
“I don’t have anything against her. I’m cool with Ty moving on. I have my career to think about. Relationships hold you back.”
“I used to work with her dad. Does she ever talk about me?”
Madison paused. Her instincts were right. The judge was pumping her for information.
“Chloe? Not that I recall. Why?”
“I just wondered. That’s all,” she said, taking a bite of pasta.
They fell silent. Madison considered her strategy. So far, her plan to loosen the judge’s tongue with wine was not working. They were like two prizefighters circling one another but neither landing a blow. Because they both had their guard up.
“I told you about Ty. Now it’s my turn to ask a question.”
“Go ahead,” the judge said, but she did not look happy.
The judge had shut down any discussion of Wallace. Her best bet was to focus on Raymond Logue. How could she bring him up without revealing that she knew of him through Danny? She had to take a roundabout approach. Logue was someone from the judge’s past. He’d danced at her wedding, attended her high school assembly. High school. That was it. She’d ask a question about Catholic Prep. Their shared history. How school was a refuge when their mothers fell ill. How— How a family member helped with their education.
For her it was her aunt. For the judge, an uncle.
A light bulb flashed in her head. Could that be Raymond Logue?
“If you have a question, ask. The food’s getting cold.”
“Okay. So, we talked about how similar our paths have been, right? How our childhoods were difficult, but Catholic Prep was a refuge for us both. I’m interested in, well I’m wondering in particular, what made you want to be a lawyer? You mentioned the uncle who helped you get an education, just like my aunt helped me. Was he a lawyer, too?”
Madison made her eyes wide and innocent. But Judge Conroy wasn’t fooled. She knew where this was going. An angry flush spread up from her neck, and her jaw tightened with fury.
“Why are you here, Madison? What do you want from me?”
Pay dirt. But also danger. Just then the doorbell rang.
“Is it Wallace?” Madison blurted in alarm.
The judge’s mouth fell open. “You know his name?”
The bell rang again, insistently. The judge got to her feet, her gaze roaming the kitchen. The dark-gray Prada tote that she carried everywhere was sitting on the island. She grabbed it, pulling out a gun. Madison’s eyes went wide. She jumped up, ready to run.
“Sit down and be quiet. If it is him, trust me, you don’t want him knowing you’re still here.”
Still? Shit. The implications were clear. Wallace knew she’d been there before. And he was capable of hurting her.
As the judge went to answer, Madison retreated behind the island and took a knife from the block. Not that it would be much help when Wallace and the judge both had guns. Judge Conroy opened the front door, letting in a waft of night air. She was talking to someone. Madison couldn’t make out the words, but the visitor was a woman. Thank God. She breathed out. The conversation went on. Their voices were agitated, angry. Eventually, the judge slammed the door, muttering under her breath as she came back to the kitchen.
Seeing Madison holding the butcher knife, she stopped short, eyes wide.
“What are you doing? Put that away.”