“Thanks,” Julia said, but she didn’t feel that way herself. The stakes were even higher, and the responsibility weighed on her. Paul had been right that Courtney was in greater danger than before.
Bennie checked her phone. “New news. Courtney’s arraignment will be held tomorrow morning at the courthouse.”
Paul looked over. “Will we get to see her in person?”
“Yes. You won’t get to talk to her in court, but I made a requestfor you to visit her tomorrow at the prison. The assistant warden agreed, given the circumstances. It will be a no-contact visit, that’s self-explanatory. At least you get to talk to her.”
“That would be great.” Paul smiled with relief.
“You’ll have to wait at the prison because they don’t know the exact time.”
“No problem, thank you.” Paul paused. “Does Courtney know that Alex died, and her cellmate?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure she will by then.” Bennie turned to Julia. “I tried to get you in to visit her, but you’re not immediate family. Is there anything you want me to tell her in court tomorrow?”
“Tell her we’re going to get her out of there.”
“This isn’t your psychic gift talking, is it?” Bennie lifted an eyebrow, her expression uncharacteristically confused. “You don’t know how this story ends, do you?”
“No,” Julia answered, wishing she did. She thought back to earlier, when she and Paul had searched the waivers of the regiment. It seemed like ages ago, after the awful events of the night. “We did get a good lead tonight, on a man named Patrick Novak.”
Paul rallied. “Yes, we got info on him, McKenna, and Shoemaker.”
Bennie smiled, surprised. “Excellent. Fill me in on the way to the car.”
43
The morning sun glinted on the coppery dome of the county courthouse, a majestic building of white marble with a keystone that read 1909. Pillars flanked an arched entrance retrofitted with modern glass doors, and its marble facade was marked by tall, mullioned windows covered by decorative iron scrollwork.
Julia approached the entrance with Paul and Bennie, the three of them subdued. She’d barely slept, and it killed her to think that Courtney had spent the night in isolation, terrified for her life. The story of the murders at the prison had broken overnight, and media flocked outside the courthouse, shouting questions and holding up cameras, videocameras, and cell phones.
“Ms. Rosato, any comment on the events of last night? Were you there? Did you get to meet with your client?”
“Bennie, how’s your client this morning? Have you talked to her?”
“Bennie, any comment on the murder of Alex Dudek? Were you at the prison with him?”
Bennie ignored them, barreling ahead with her head down, and so did Julia and Paul. One reporter shoved a microphone in his face. “Is your wife guilty of killing her grandmother? Why did she do it? Do you have any comment?” Another reporter thrust a cell phone at Julia. “Were you at the prison last night, Ms. Pritzker? What’s your role, anyway?”
Julia felt shaken but didn’t let it show as they hurried along. Lawyers in suits and dresses hustled past them, giving them and the press wide berth. Court staff did the same, their laminated IDs swinging as they hurried into work holding Yetis.
Julia, Paul, and Bennie entered the graceful arched door of the courthouse, leaving the press behind. They climbed wide marble steps into a spacious lobby, illuminated by lighted globes on bronze stalks. The clacking of heels on marble and the chatter of conversation filled the air, which smelled dusty. Pillars ringed the space, and there were offices at every arch under a marble balcony. They passed an office door with frosted glass that readDISTRICT ATTORNEY JIM WILSON, FIRST ASSISTANT JENNIFER LONG-FITSON, DEPUTY DISTRICT ATTORNEY SARAH KUO. Julia wondered which prosecutor was assigned to convict her best friend for a murder she hadn’t committed.
They climbed the marble staircase, passed several courtrooms on the first tier, and entered the last one, which was large and lined with rich mahogany panels and maroon curtains. A carved mahogany dais awaited the judge, and the gold seal of the Commonwealth hung on the front wall, flanked by flags.
The gallery was packed with spectators and members of the media, but Julia kept going, her face front. Bennie showed her and Paul to the first pew, where they took seats on the smooth wood, then Benniewalked through the bar of court to counsel table, since Courtney’s case was docketed first.
Julia glanced at Paul, who sat rigidly still, pale under his morning shave and stiff in his suit. She patted his hand, and he held hers, which touched her. Meanwhile court personnel hustled to their desks, uniformed bailiffs stood against the wall, and the stenographer took her seat behind her machine.
A preppy in a gray suit hustled up the aisle and through the bar of court, and Julia realized he must be the prosecutor. “Jim Wilson,” he said, shaking Bennie’s hand quickly, then sitting down at counsel table and pulling a thick red accordion file from a leather briefcase. Julia recognized the name as the district attorney himself, and he gave off the requisite camera-ready vibe, with a professional smile and brown hair slicked back.
Suddenly a panel door opened at the front of the courtroom, and uniformed marshals escorted Courtney into the courtroom in an orange jumpsuit, with handcuffs attached to a thick leather belt at her waist and shackles around her ankles. She looked around in dazed shock, her lovely green eyes moving back and forth, as if her bewildered gaze didn’t know where to rest.
Julia felt tears spring to her eyes. Instinctively, she raised her hand, and Courtney spotted her, bringing tears to her eyes, too. Their gaze connected across the courtroom, and Julia could feel her best friend’s pain and grief in that moment. Courtney had to know about Alex’s murder, in addition to the murder of her cellmate, and Julia couldn’t imagine how Courtney was bearing up.
Paul cleared his throat as Courtney was led shuffling to counsel table, where her handcuffs were taken off and left jangling from thethick belt. Bennie helped Courtney sit down in her ankle shackles, which made Julia want to cry.
The bailiff shouted, “Oyez, oyez! Court is now in session! Please rise for the Honorable Kenneth Ericsson!”