“Can you give me a moment to compose myself?”
Rather than verbalizing her answer, Charlie nodded.
Charlie seldom just nodded. Like Rusty, she could never resist the urge to speak, to explain the nod, to expound upon the up and down movement of her head.
Sam was about to ask her what the hell else she was hiding when Charlie said, “What’s Lenore doing here?”
Sam watched a red sedan make a quick turn into the parking lot. The sun glinted off the windshield as the car raced towards them. There was another sharp turn, then the tires skidded to a stop.
The window rolled down. Lenore waved for them to hurry. “The arraignment is scheduled to start at three.”
“Motherfuck, that gives us an hour and a half, tops.” Charlie quickly helped Sam down the stairs. “Who’s the judge?”
“Lyman. He said he moved it up to avoid the press, but half of them are already lining up for seats.” She motioned for them to get in the car. “He also appointed Carter Grail to stand in for Rusty.”
“Shit, he’ll hang Kelly himself.” Charlie pulled open the rear door. She told Lenore, “Take Sam. I’ll try to keep Grail away from Kelly and find out what the hell is going on. It’s faster if I run.”
Sam said, “Faster for—”
Charlie was gone.
“Grail’s got a big mouth,” Lenore said. “If Kelly talks to him, he’ll spill to whoever listens.”
“I’m sure that has nothing to do with why the judge appointed him.” Sam had no choice but to get into Lenore’s car. The courthouse, a large, domed building, was directly across from the police station, but the one-way street made the driving route more circuitous. Because of Sam’s limited mobility, they would have to go up to the red light, then drive around the courthouse, then turn onto the street again.
Sam watched Charlie dart past a truck and leap over a concrete curb. She ran beautifully; arms tucked, head straight, shoulders back.
Sam had to look away.
She told Lenore, “This is a dirty trick. The hearing was scheduled for tomorrow morning.”
“Lyman does whatever he wants.” Lenore caught her eye in the mirror. “Cons call Carter ‘the Holy Grail.’ If he drinks before your trial, you’re likely to get life.”
“It’s a chalice, actually. In Christian tradition.”
“I’ll send Indiana Jones a telegram.” Lenore turned out of the parking lot.
Sam watched Charlie running across the courthouse lawn. She hurdled over a row of shrubs. There was a line out the door, but Charlie rushed past it, taking the steep stairs two at a time. “Can I ask you something?”
“Why not.”
“How long has my sister been sleeping with Mason Huckabee?”
Lenore pursed her lips. “That wasn’t the question I thought you would ask.”
That wasn’t a question that Sam thought she would ask, either, but it made a horrible kind of sense. The distance between Charlie and Ben. The way Charlie had teared up when she talked about Mason Huckabee.
Lenore asked, “You told Charlie who he is?”
Sam nodded.
“That oughtta make her feel like shit,” Lenore added. “Even more than she already does.”
“Not for want of defenders.”
“You know a lot for somebody who’s only been here five minutes.”
Lenore looped around the courthouse and drove to the back of the building. She stopped in front of an area that was clearly the loading zone for deliveries.
She told Sam, “Go up the ramp. Elevator’s on the right. Go down one floor to the sub-basement. That’s the holding area. And listen,” Lenore turned around to face her. “Rusty couldn’t get a peep out of Kelly yesterday. Maybe she’ll open up to a woman. Anything you can get would be better than what we’ve got now, which is zilch.”
“Understood.” Sam unfolded her cane. She felt sturdier on her feet as she got out of the car. Adrenaline had always been her ally. Anger ran a close second as she marched up a ramp intended for bulk toilet-paper deliveries and trash bins. The smell of rotting food from the dumpsters was noxious.
Inside, the courthouse was like every other courthouse Sam had entered, except there was an oversampling of good-looking men and women in camera-ready suits. Sam’s cane got her to the front of the line. Two sheriff’s deputies were stationed by the metal detector. Sam had to show her ID, sign in, put her purse and cane on the X-ray, show her legal credentials so that she could keep her phone, then wait for a female deputy to pat her down because the plate in her head set off the alarm when she walked through the metal detector.
The elevator was on the right. There were two sub-basement floors, but Lenore had told her to go down one floor, so Sam pressed the appropriate button and waited. The car was full of men in suits. She stood at the back. She leaned against the wall to take weight off her leg. When the doors opened, all of the men stepped aside so that she could leave the elevator first.
There were some things that Sam missed about the South.
“Hey.” Charlie was waiting by the door. She held a tissue to her nose, which had started bleeding, likely from the run. She took a breath and words rushed out of her mouth. “I told Coin you’re co-counsel. He’s super-happy—not. So is Lyman, so try not to piss him off even more. I heard Grail didn’t have a chance to talk to Kelly, but maybe check-see to make sure. She’s been sick since they brought her over. Clogged the toilet. I hear it’s a mess.”
“What kind of sick?”
“Throwing up. I called over to the jail. She ate breakfast and lunch no problem. No one else is sick, so it’s not food poisoning. She was horking when they brought her over about thirty minutes ago. She’s not detoxing. It must be nerves. This is Mo.” She indicated an older woman sitting behind the desk. “Mo, this is my sister, Samantha.”
“Don’t bleed on my desk, Quinn.” Mo did not look up from her keyboard. She snapped her fingers for Sam’s ID and credentials. She tapped some of the keys on her computer. She picked up the phone. She indicated a sign-in log.
The log was almost full. Sam signed her name on the last line below Carter Grail’s. The time stamp said he’d spent less than three minutes with Kelly.
Charlie said, “Lyman’s been here about twelve years. He retired up from Marietta. He’s a super hard-ass about procedure. Do you have a dress or a skirt in your suitcase?”
“Whatever for?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Sure it doesn’t.” Mo put down the phone. She told Sam, “You’ve got seventeen minutes left. Grail drank away three. You’ll have to talk to her in the cell.”
Charlie slammed her fist on the counter. “What the fuck, Mo?”
“Charlie, I’ve got this.” Sam addressed Mo. “If the room isn’t available now, then you should inform the judge that we need to postpone the hearing until I have the necessary time to confer privately with my client.”