Page 28 of Defend Me

But that’s all I am right now. One giant ball of worry. I should have known a search warrant was coming. But it’s like seeing myjob through the looking glass. Everything is distorted. It all feels unreal.

Von turns back to the reporters. “That will be all for today. Thank you.”

Reporters shout questions at us as Von shuttles me toward the town car, Alistair trailing in our wake. I get in the backseat with Von as Alistair takes the front.

“The courthouse, Alex,” Von says tartly.

The press surrounds us as we pull out of the drive, then I turn to see about half of them jump in their vans or cars.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Von is shaking her head. “This is highly unusual. And I meanhighly.”

“Can someone please explain to those of us who didn’t go to law school?” Alistair says.

“Using the sheriff to summon us to court? In front of the press, no less? What’s this judge playing at?”

A knot begins to form in the pit of my stomach. “Judge Warner loves attention,” I say.

Von’s head snaps toward me. “You said he hated showboating.”

“From lawyers,” I tell her. “But he’s the type who loves to see his picture in the society pages of theBeeor give press interviews.” My palms start to sweat. “I bet he’ll allow cameras in the courtroom.”

“We’ll file a motion,” Von says.

I’m shaking my head. I’ve never had a bad interaction with Judge Warner. We’ve always been professional with each other. But I’ve never been a defendant in front of him. I guess he just can’t resist the thought of all this publicity.

“We’re heading into an election year,” I say morosely. What better way to make a splash than by locking up the murderer of Marion Everton. It’s Magnolia Bay’s most famous cold case. My heart sprints in my chest. This isn’t the way things are meant togo. A defendant is meant to get a fair shot. That’s what I’ve always believed.

“Goddammit,” Von mutters.

Thankfully we reach the courthouse before the press can catch us. When we get inside, the judge’s clerk is waiting for us.

“Judge Warner will see you in his chambers,” she says. “This way.”

We follow her down a different hall, to an office just off the courtroom. There are diplomas on the wall and family photos on his desk, along with a photograph of him and Sheriff Briggs shaking hands and smiling. The judge is sitting behind the desk, a pair of bifocals perched on his nose. Wilbur is already here.

“Good afternoon,” the judge says.

“Good afternoon, your honor,” Von replies.

“Let’s get to it, shall we,” Judge Warner says without preamble. “You know Wilbur Jenkins.” Wilbur stands and shakes Von’s hand. He’s wearing a navy cardigan and boat shoes, which gives him a country-club-Mr. Rogers vibe. They both take their seats in the chairs opposite the desk, leaving me to hover against the wall. The judge glances at me once, and I feel a chill run down my spine.

“In the matter of the People v. Noah Patterson,” Judge Warner says, “a trial date is set for December fifteenth.”

Von nods. “Let me just check my calendar for next year.”

“You misunderstand me, young lady,” Judge Warner says sternly. “I mean, December fifteenth of this year.”

There’s a shocked silence from the two of us on the defense side. This year?This year?Wilbur, I notice, looks unsurprised. Almost like he knew this was going to be the judge’s decision.

“But…your honor…” For the first time probably ever, Von looks unnerved. “That’s only a little under four months away.”

The judge peers down at her through his glasses. “I would imagine, given your family’s resources and your firm’s reputation, that this timetable would not pose an issue.”

Not pose an issue? Is he insane? I’ve never seen a trial date set so quickly and certainly never in a case as serious as murder.

Von recovers quickly. “Your honor, I would like to make a motion for a change of venue.”

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