Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Donovan smiled. “It’s fine. I know it seems like I’m asking you a simple question, but the answer isn’t as simple as you think. If you get in trouble during the next year, the pending charge is reinstated, along with any new charges brought against you. That means one family court judge sitting on two offenses at the same time. It sounds like semantics, but a judge who has two charges in front of his nose is going to feel obligated to teach you a lesson, so the outcome could be more serious than two different judges presiding over two different charges six months apart. That might not be fair, but that’s the truth of the matter.”
“So what do I do? Take the hit with this one to have a better shot the next time?” Storm asked.
“No.” Donovan leaned forward and made sure he had Storm’s attention, then he spoke slowly. “You make sure there isn’t a next time. There can’t be a next time, Storm.”
“Fine…” he grumbled.
“I mean it. You will wind up in a bad place you won’t come back from.” Donovan lifted his arm and pushed up his shirtsleeve, exposing his watch…but he also flashed a glimpse of his tattoos. Storm’s eyes snagged on the ink before meeting his lawyer’s again, and it made me wonder if Donovan had needed to check the time on his watch at all.
“Fine. I get it,” Storm said.
Donovan nodded. “Good.”
“Are we done now? I have to take a piss.”
“Yeah, we’re done,” Donovan said. “I’ll walk you to the restroom and see if the judge is running on time this morning.” He turned to me. “Be back in a few.”
A few minutes later, a bailiff opened the door to the room I sat in alone.
“Oh, sorry. I thought Decker was in here.”
“He is,” I said. “Or he was. He just walked down to the restroom. He should be back any minute.”
“Alright. Would you let him know there’s a change of plans and Judge Oakley is ready for him now?”
“Oh, okay. Thank you. I’ll let him know.”
When Donovan didn’t come back after a few more minutes, I gathered up my things and decided to go look for him. I spotted him standing outside the men’s room, talking to the man I recognized as the prosecutor from the last time we were here. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I waited for them to finish from a few feet away, figuring I’d give them privacy. But apparently I hadn’t waited far enough away to avoid their conversation.
“So what’s the deal with the woman who comes with your client?”
“She’s his social worker.”
“Any chance you know if she’s single?”
Donovan took a minute to respond. “Happily married with six kids. Husband’s a pro boxer.”
“Shit. Okay. I’ll keep my distance.”
“Good idea.”
Storm came out of the bathroom and walked over to me, rather than Donovan. So Donovan turned to follow him and found me standing maybe six feet away. He studied me, probably trying to figure out if I’d overheard.
I raised an eyebrow and smirked.
He chuckled to himself and turned back to the prosecutor. “I’ll see you inside.”
When he walked over, the grin was still on his face.
“I think a gun-toting cop would have been more effective than a boxer.”
Donovan laughed and put his hand on my back. “You’re probably right. But come on, let’s go in and get this deal sealed.”
As we walked toward the courtroom, Donovan’s phone began to buzz. He checked the caller ID and his step faltered.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s Bud. He doesn’t usually call during the day. He actually rarely picks up the phone at all. But I’ll call him back when we’re done. They’re ready for us.” Donovan opened the door to the courtroom.
He settled at the defendant’s table with Storm, and I took a seat in the row behind them in the spectator’s section. While we were waiting for the judge to take the bench, I noticed Donovan pull his phone out of his pocket again and look at it. His face looked troubled, but the bailiff took his place, and then court was called to order.
The entire process took less than five minutes. It made me sad to see just how routine it was to have a twelve-year-old kid stand in front of the judge so felony charges could be read aloud. Once the prosecutor said he’d agreed to a deal with the defendant, the judge barely even looked up before he banged his gavel and the entire thing was over.
Donovan packed up, and the three of us headed out of the courtroom. Back in the lobby, he took out his phone again. “Excuse me for a minute.”
He took a few steps away, but I overheard his side of the conversation.
“What’s up, Bud? Everything okay?”
Pause.
“Shit. Where are you?”
Pause.
“What happened?”
Pause.
“I’ll be there in a half hour.”