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She was bodybuilder big and ebony colored and pretty but she didn't smile or speak. I'd have rather been on her side.
She shrugged. "Judge got the time, it's up to him to schedule."
"But it doesn't happen every time?" I pressed.
She looked like she was about to snap at me, then she sighed and changed her mind. "Not most of the time, no. Just be thankful you're getting an easy out. If you get Judge Townsend, you might walk away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist by end of day."
And then, because of course this was surely protocol, she said I'd be getting a ride home in a squad car and I ought to fix myself up real nice.
Nothing ever went this fast or this easy and the cop in me – the superstitious cop in me – was pretty sure once I got in front of Judge Townsend it would all go south.
In a very, very major way.
38
Annie
Judge Townsend liked what I'd chosen to wear. Because Lily traded a lot on her assets. I wore a skimpy stretchy camisole over naked boobs, and a little see-through shell top covered in artfully placed flowers over it. I'd combed my newly blond curls into a wild mass and I wore sandals with heels. My shorts, though, were utilitarian. Long, coming nearly to my knees, denim and not form-fitting.
I wanted something between me and the judge that would slow him down if he decided to test drive the merchandise.
I carried a burner phone. Probably nobody would question me with that. Phones in the '20s provide protection. My real phone, with Cole's number embedded (not that it wasn't now memorized) was hidden inside a large bottle of hair gel in multiple baggies, ringer off.
The police did give me a ride, and stood outside my apartment, front and back, despite my being on the second floor. They gave me half an hour.
I spent most of that pulling together a safety plan. Until this had happened, I'd only had outlines. Now I slid sharp blades like those in disposable razors into the hem of my camisole, already set up for that. The hem was elastic, the thing ending at my waist rather than tucking in. The blades were super sharp plastic. Not much chance there wouldn't be metal scanners.
I texted Cole the name of the store, the name on the security goon’s tag, the name of the judge. And I reburied that phone in setting gel for curly hair.
I ran a hand over the back of my neck where the smallest of scabs marked the site of the chip. I slipped on prepared sandals. The heels had a small plastic knife in one and nothing in the other.
At thirty minutes I was as ready as I was going to be.
They cuffed me for the ride to the courthouse, and attached the cuffs to a ring in the door. I must have looked really threatening as they slid me into the cage. I hoped to hell my landlady wasn't seeing this. Maybe I'd never spend another day in that apartment, but I'd liked her. Too late it occurred to me I should have left the gel open so it would dry out and no one would think to keep it with anything they kept if I didn't come back. Then I could have dropped the bottle in the bathroom trash and hopefully no one would ever find the phone with Cole's number.
It that was the only mistake I made, I'd be doing good.
39
Cole
She was already on her way to meet with a judge.
Anticipated. Expected. What we set out to do.
Sitting and worrying was all I could do. I worked with the techs. I tried to work with Flood on the spa idea but my heart wasn't in it and I was glad when he was out of the office, scouting locations for some other project.
I tried to Zoom with clients in Brazil. The meetings went sideways. We rescheduled.
I watched the chip on the screen. And waited.
40
Annie
Same courthouse. Different security at the metal scanner. This time there was a very thorough pat down.
"Hey!"
