“She’s left messages on my cell phone, too. I’ll call her now.”
Holly went into her private office and closed the door. Once seated behind her desk, she fortified herself with several swallows of water straight from the bottle before using her cell phone to call Marilyn Vidal.
In her gruff smoker’s voice, Marilyn answered after the first ring. “Why haven’t you returned my calls?”
“I’m calling now.”
“The local Dallas stations carried the story this morning. The full story. You underplayed it when you called me last night. For God’s sake, Holly, that maniac could have killed you.”
“I didn’t want you to worry. The truth is that I was very fortunate my life was spared. I can’t overstate how horrible it was. To see my bailiff killed right in front of me… It was ghastly.”
“I’m so sorry. Do you feel like talking about it?”
She didn’t. But Marilyn was orchestrating her campaign. It was only fair that she understand her present state of mind. She talked Marilyn through it, starting with the appearance of the gunman in the courtroom and bringing her up to the moment.
She omitted any mention of Crawford Hunt’s visit to her home, of course, having placed that subject off limits even to herself. She refused to think about it.
“Jorge Rodriguez might have been seated in the gallery during a proceeding, but he was never a principal in any case I presided over. At least none has been found under that name.”
Marilyn, never one to mince words, said, “That’s both good and bad.”
Holly understood exactly what she was driving at. “No direct connection between us has been established. Therefore, no fingers are pointed at me.”
“Which is the good part,” Marilyn said. “The bad part? The kook’s motive is left wide open to wild speculation.” She mulled it over for several seconds, then said, “I’ll have to give some thought to how we address that. In the meantime, how are you holding up personally?”
“I’m all right.”
“Pull the other one, Holly.”
“I have some residual shakiness,” she admitted. “I’ve been told that might hang on for several days. I didn’t sleep well.” Not one wink after her guest’s departure. He’d left her sprawled on the sofa, covered by little more than an orgasmic blush and suffering from acute mortification.
“Do you have someone staying with you?”
Yanked back into the present by Marilyn’s question, she replied with a subdued no.
“Have you considered calling Dennis?”
“No.”
“Maybe—”
“No, Marilyn.”
“You’re probably right. That might be perceived as a sign of weakness, and we can’t have that.”
Holly had made that determination on her own last night. She envisioned Marilyn grinding out her cigarette, sympathetic but unfailingly pragmatic.
“Let me think about how best to handle this.”
“It’s not up to us to handle it, Marilyn. The police are handling it.”
“They have their agenda and we have ours. Have you been approached by the media for a statement?”
She told her what Mrs. Briggs had reported. “But last night before I left the police station, the lead investigator discouraged me from discussing the incident publicly until the culprit has been positively identified and his next of kin contacted. As of now, to my knowledge, that hasn’t happened.”
“Again, good and bad. You need to be out there, visible, courageously carrying on. But I had just as soon you not be photographed while you still have the shakes.”
“They’re not that bad, Marilyn. It’s just that you don’t get over something that traumatic in a few hours. At least I don’t.”
“Of course not. I understand. Take today. Get a grip. I’ll be in touch.”
With that she was gone. No sooner had Holly disconnected than Mrs. Briggs came in carrying a large vase of red roses. “These just came for you.”
Holly opened the small envelope attached. “Greg Sanders,” she said without inflection. “Expressing his concern and sending best wishes.”
Mrs. Briggs snorted her disdain. “Did you see this morning’s paper?”
“Where he advocated tighter courthouse security, and cited all the times he’s made personal appeals to the county commissioners for funding? Yes, I saw that.”
“And the other part?” her assistant asked in a softer tone.
Holly left her desk chair and walked over to the window. “Could yesterday’s tragedy have been spawned by some deep, dark secret in my past?”
“He didn’t come right out and pose the question, but that was the gist of it.”
“He’s too clever to say anything libelous. But the thought has been planted in the general public’s mind.”
“In yours, too, I think.”