Maybe that’s what Martin meant. She was right to be afraid, because Wallace was coming for her. Fuck. Where could she go to get away from him? Not back to Judge Conroy’s town house while the judge was still at the party. The place would be dark and empty, nobody there but the cat. She couldn’t go home to Mom, obviously. That would put her at risk. The only option was her dorm. There were lots of people around. If she could make it there, she’d be safe.
The doors opened at Park Street. She took off for the Red Line like she was running for her life. The thunk-thunk of footsteps behind her must be him. The stilettos she’d borrowed from the judge were slowing her down, and he gained on her through the maze of tunnels—narrow, low-ceilinged, lined with blood-red tile like something from a house of horrors. Thank God she wasn’t alone. A train had just let out, and a number of people passed by. It sat on the platform, exhaling stale air, growling. She plunged through the doors and collapsed into an empty seat. As the train pulled out of the station, her eyes darted nervously. He hadn’t made it into this car, but he could be in the next one.
At the Mass General stop, most of the passengers exited. The train picked up speed and passed under the Charles. It was dark outside the windows, and she felt trapped. There were only two other people in her car, and they were glued to their phones, unlikely to help if he came for her. There weren’t even doors between the cars to give her a false sense of security. Three more stops to Harvard Square. She got up and stood by the doors, her hand sweaty on the strap as the car bucked and swayed. When the doors opened at Harvard Square, she ran. Up a ramp, through the turnstiles, up one escalator, then another, not looking back until she hit the misty, diesel-smelling night.
He wasn’t behind her. Had he given up? The Starbucks was just a few steps from the exit. She could duck in there. But the interior was lit up like a Broadway stage, the people inside spotlighted for all to see. Better to slip away into darkness while she had the chance. Though, if he caught her alone at night in the emptiness of Harvard Yard, she’d be in trouble.
The door to the Starbucks flew open with a blast of coffee-scented air. Two people emerged, law students, one of whom had been in her Civ Pro class last year. What the hell was her name? Think.
“Hannah!”
The girl turned, looking confused. They were nodding acquaintances at best.
“Madison?”
“How’s it going? Long time, no see.”
“Uh, I’m in your Securities Reg class. I sit behind you.”
She fell into step beside them. “Right. Are you feeling ready for the final?”
“No, I’ve still got a ton of studying to do. What about you?”
She kept up the chatter as they cut through Harvard Yard, sticking to her companions like a barnacle on a ship, alert for footsteps behind her. But the damp night and wet trees muffled the sound. At Langdell, Hannah and her friend peeled off with a firm goodbye, heading for the library. Madison got out her card key and ran the rest of the way to her dorm, swiping the key with a pounding heart. She was in. As the door locked behind her, she took a deep breath. If Wallace had followed her here, he’d be looking for a way in. Sneaking in behind a student swiping their card. Or flashing his badge and demanding admittance. Wallace had cop written all over him, though, and her gut told her that a bunch of law students would at least ask for a warrant. She hoped. It would slow him down.
Climbing the stairs, walking down the dingy hallway, she realized that she’d been missing this old dump. It was home, not the glitzy town house. As she unlocked her room, the familiar smell of carpet cleaner and books made her want to turn back time. To before Danny’s arrest, before she’d ever met Judge Conroy, to when things were simpler. She wanted her life back. The blinds were open. He could still be out there. She couldn’t turn on the light for fear that he’d see which room was hers. Creeping to the window, reaching for the cord, she looked out.
He was there, staring back at her.
* * *
The sun shone in her eyes, and she sat up, momentarily stunned to find herself in the lumpy dorm-room bed, still clad in her finery from last night. The blinds were wide open. Memory hit. She jumped up to look out the window.
Wallace was gone. For now.
She checked her phone, surprised there was no text from Judge Conroy. Madison hadn’t returned to the town house last night, despite an agreement to meet up after the reception. She was supposed to report on delivering the messages, which would cue the judge to sign the order releasing Danny. Of course, Madison had failed to complete the second task. She hadn’t told Andrew Martin about the meeting in the alley. If Judge Conroy showed up, she would have waited there alone to no avail. Why hadn’t she texted to find out what went wrong? Maybe she assumed it was a disaster. That Madison got arrested. Or flipped. Or else, maybe she was really in league with Wallace, and he had already told her everything.
In the shower, she stood under the pounding water, quietly freaking out. A corrupt cop had followed her home last night. Whether or not he planned to attack her physically, he meant her harm. Andrew Martin confirmed that she was right to be afraid. Could she turn to the feds for help, ask to be placed in witness protection or something? But they wouldn’t help her unless she had valuable evidence to offer, and how much did she know, really? That Judge Conroy and Detective Wallace were on a first-name basis? Big deal. That the judge tipped off Douglas Kessler to the investigation last night? Better, but she’d have to out herself as the go-between. She’d have criminal exposure of her own. They’d be just as likely to arrest her as protect her.
It was the final Securities Reg class of the term, and she should’ve been paying close attention. Instead, she was distracted to the point of near-hysteria. Chloe was a no-show, which felt like a bad omen. She replayed in her head over and over that sick moment when Doug Kessler threatened her last night. She wanted to scream at Judge Conroy. I did what you asked and what did I get? Kessler threatened me. Martin knew who I was. I risked jail for you. Now pay up. Release my brother, or I’ll tell the feds everything. She was a law student, not a thug, but lately she didn’t recognize herself. Passing secret messages, getting followed by the police. Why not extortion? It was just one more step in this brave new world.
She’d confront the judge that afternoon, at the internship.
But when she got to chambers, Imani told her the judge had not come in that day.
“Where is she?” Madison said.
“I don’t know. Sean and I showed up as usual this morning, and chambers was dark. No judge, no Kelsey. No explanation. Just a note on my desk from Nancy saying court was canceled. Sean went home, but I’ve been here all day catching up on paperwork.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“It’s kind of worrisome. Do you think she’s okay?”
“That’s not a subject I’m comfortable speculating about. Not here,” Imani said, turning back to her computer.
Unease settled in Madison’s chest as she considered why the judge might be absent. Not illness. More likely, arrest. Or fleeing the jurisdiction. Or, God forbid, kidnapping, or worse. And what did Imani mean, that she wouldn’t speculate here? They were alone in chambers. Did she think the place was bugged?
The afternoon crawled by, punctuated by the clacking of keyboards. At five, Imani shut down her computer.
“Well, I think I’ll head out.”
“Me too,” Madison said.
She wished she could get Imani talking. Whatever the law clerk knew, she wasn’t comfortable spilling here.
“Would you like to grab a drink? I’ve been dying to try that new martini bar. My treat.”
“Really? I heard that place is pricey.”
“It’s fine. I picked up a second job.”
“No kidding. Doing what?”
“Um, kind of like a personal assistant thing.”
“Is that wise with your workload?”
“I got tired of being broke.”
“I feel you. I remember those days.”