Page 109 of His to Burn
She trailed off as she looked at Miles and Lourdes, and I guessed she left out details about Esteban.
“We made our way back to Judge Hanlon’s chambers and just hunkered down and waited.”
Bridget swiped at her face, smearing some of the dirt on her cheek.
This was the first time I’d seen her as anything less than perfectly dressed.
Her close-cropped hair was unkempt, and she wasn’t wearing make up. The pocket on her silk button-down shirt was ripped and hung like a wrinkled tissue.
She didn’t look like the meticulous, vivacious sixty-five-old I’d become fast friends with.
She looked like the hell we’d all been through.
So did Caitlin.
Her pants were ripped at the knee and her white blouse was so dirty, it looked beige.
“We decided to make a run for it. We made it back home, but Irv…”
Bridget dabbed her eyes but didn’t allow a tear to fall.
“And who are you?” Caitlin said, her already husky voice just an octave lower, and her gaze firmly on Jack.
“Jackson Thorne,” Jack said.
Caitlin swiveled to look at me. “Where’d you find him?”
I grit my teeth, trying to keep my annoyance at bay.
It was Caitlin. She was guaranteed to climb all over every nerve I had.
But now wasn’t the time or place for that bullshit from the past, so I vowed to keep myself in check.
“He actually found me. Well—sorta. Anyway, we got stuck in the elevator. Did the same thing as you. Hunkered down and then went to Judge Hanlon’s…”
Caitlin was also one of the judge’s clerks, and at the mention of his name, she perked up.
“I should have thought of that,” she said.
“Yeah. He didn’t make it,” I said.
Bridget dabbed her eyes again. She was Judge Hanlon’s court reporter for close to twenty years, and was very close with his late wife.
It wasn’t at all uncommon for her and Irv to grab a bite of dinner with the judge after work.
They were friends.
“It was quick,” I said, trying to give her what reassurance I could.
“Good for him. Irv didn’t get so lucky,” she said morosely. “He was there…but it wasn’t really him. It looked like Irv. It even wore that ridiculous smoking jacket. But then I saw the eyes…”
Bridget wiped her brow, then moved.
“It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. He looked at me—but he didn’t look at me, you know?”
“I do.”
I felt that way about Jorge but couldn’t imagine how it felt for Bridget.
