He raised a hand to stop her. “No explanation necessary. But I’m guessing that the timing of it was…problematic.”
At her pained expression, he said, “Admit nothing, judge. I don’t need to know. Don’t want to know. I just hope it works out okay, because, as women go, he’s had it rough. His mother ran off. His wife died.” He paused, his gaze narrowing a fraction. “He loves that little girl of his. Be a damn shame if he lost her, too.”
“It won’t be up to me. I recused myself.”
“Under the circumstances, that was the ethical thing to do. But forgive me for saying, you don’t look too happy about it.”
“I feel an obligation to people who’ve put their trust in me and my career. I don’t want to let them down.”
Studying her, he frowned thoughtfully. “This thing between you and Crawford, has it made you, or would it make you, an inferior judge? Would you be less good on the bench because of it?”
“No. In fact, I’d be better. He’s made me realize and accept that gray areas do exist. I used to see only black and white.”
“Go with that, Holly, and stop beating yourself up. I happen to be an expert on disappointing people, and I can tell you from experience that the more you worry about doing it, the more you do it. Fear of failing someone becomes self-fulfilling.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.” They exchanged a smile.
Then he looked through the door at Crawford. “I’d like to see him happy.”
“I saw him with Georgia for the first time today. While he was with her, he was happy, lit up from the inside. And why wouldn’t he be? She’s adorable.”
“Is she?” In his rheumy eyes, a flicker of joy was almost instantly replaced by sorrow. “He won’t let me see her.”
It was plain to Holly how deeply that rejection affected him. “Perhaps he’ll change his mind.”
“No, no. I don’t blame him a bit. I don’t want my granddaughter to know me like this.” He raised his hands to encompass himself and his environment. “An old alky fighting with every breath to stay sober? No. I don’t want Georgia to have that image of me any more than he wants to expose her to such.
“No, if ever a day comes when he wants to acquaint her with her Grandpa Conrad, I’d like him to show her a picture of me from thirty years ago when I was feared by some of the meanest sons of bitches in this state. When I was the bane of the best defense lawyers, and had the utmost respect of judges,” he said, adding a wink. “I’d like him to tell her about how I was before… Well, before.” His smile was wistful. “I’d be proud for my grandchild to know me in that light.”
Crawford looked back through the screen door and wondered what Holly and his old man were talking about with such absorption. Annoyed because he’d called the same number three times without success, he paced a tight circle as he redialed it once again.
“Come on, come on, jerk-off. I know you’re there.” This time the phone was answered with a timorous hello.
“Nugent?”
“Stop calling me. I can’t talk to you.”
“Where’s Neal? I’ve tried every number several times.”
“He checked out to go to dinner with his family.”
“I don’t care how you manage it, just find him, tell him he needs to get an arrest warrant for Pat Connor. Joseph Patrick Connor. He’s on the list of PD officers who were on duty and inside the courthouse at the time of the shooting.”
“I know. He was questioned and released.”
“Erroneously. Text me Connor’s street address. Also, tell Neal to get a search warrant for his home, car, everything. Are you getting all this? Write it down if you need to. Tell Neal to meet me at Connor’s house with those warrants. I’ll go on ahead, make sure he’s there, and keep an eye on him till Neal arrives. And—this is very important—notify the sheriff’s office that somebody needs to go out to the man camp and bring Chuck Otterman in for questioning.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Crawford shouted, “Do I sound like I’m kidding?”
“Neal’s already on the brink of firing me. If I tell him this came from you—”
“He’s not going to fire you. You’re a county commissioner’s nephew. Don’t forget to text me that address. I need it now. And if you screw this up, Neal will be the least of your worries because I’ll throttle you myself. Get your butt in gear. Time to man up, Nugent.”
Crawford disconnected, accessed Conrad’s phone, and hastily emailed himself the photo of Pat Connor in conversation with Otterman. He strode toward the porch, hurdled the steps, pulled open the screen door, and with an underhand throw, tossed Conrad his cell phone. “Guess I owe you a thanks.”
“Guess you do.”
“It was a damn crazy thing you did. Risky. But it gave me the break in the case I needed. Thanks.”
“I’m glad I could do something for you.”