7

Judge Agatha McClain was a woman who took no bullshit. She’d been a judge for two decades, knew everyone in the business, and likely had a black book of dirty secrets somewhere. She was one of my favorite judges to work with, not going to lie. I was very impressed Borrowman had gotten an appointment with her so quickly, though, as she was also crazy busy.

I brought Abby along. I wanted her to see this part of the process and meet the judge. Abby, knowing of the appointment, had worn a pencil skirt, white heels, and a dressy white top. She looked incredibly cute and professional.

We met in the judge’s office, which was across from the old courthouse, as the place was too old to support everyone working there. Her office was tastefully appointed, with judge’s paneling on the walls and beautiful landscapes. It smelled of beeswax, so likely someone had cleaned in here recently.

Borrowman greeted her as we entered. “Hi, we’re here.”

“So I see.” She looked over her specs and waved us all in. Judge McClain was obviously in a more relaxed mode. I normally saw her in suits, but today her greying blonde hair was in a loose curl around her shoulders, and she wore jeans and a red cardigan to ward off the office chill. “Plus a new face. Hello, young woman.”

Abby was a little shy but rallied. “Hello, Your Honor. I’m Abigail Moore. Jon’s my mentor.”

“Ahh, the Reader apprentice I’ve heard so much about. Delighted to meet you. Come, sit, sit.” She moved around her desk and to the sitting chairs arranged around a coffee table, encouraging us to all sit as well. “Abigail, before we start on the case, tell me more about yourself. Are you interested in this line of work?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abby answered politely while taking a seat next to Donovan. “I think it’s both awesome and I like the idea of serving the community. I never thought I’d be able to study under Jon, but he offered, so I leapt at the chance.”

“Smart of you to do so. How old are you?”

“Seventeen, ma’am. I’ll be a junior in high school this coming year.”

“Is that right? Then we’ll be able to work with each other on a consistent basis soon.” Agatha sat back with a satisfied smile. Her lines were full of pumpkin orange anticipation. “I can only imagine that if I have two gifted Readers, we’ll be able to put away that many more criminals, which sparks joy. Abigail, are you going to do any schooling?”

“Um, I’d love to do criminal law.”

“I think that’s wise. Leave your phone number with me before you go. I’ll make sure you’re a scholarship candidate.”

Abby lit right up at her words. “You mean it?”

“I do. We need more psychics and women in the law field, so I’m going to sponsor you, if you don’t mind.”

“Not one bit.” Abby’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

Now, I’d not expected this plot twist, but I could understand the judge’s reasoning. Having Abby fully educated and ready to go could only be a boon for the police force.

“Good. We’ll talk more about it later.” With a satisfied air, Agatha sat back, crossing her legs comfortably. “Now, let’s switch to the main topic. I understand Solomon did something stupid again.”

I laughed, mostly in a sour way. “Has he ever done anything smart?”

“Not noticeably.” Agatha tsk ed, expression irate. “The man drives me to drinking most days. Part of the reason I was willing to hear you out was because I knew this was one of Solomon’s cases. I did look at the brief you sent me, Borrowman. I do see why the man was given a guilty verdict, as the circumstantial evidence is rather damning. But you couldn’t see any guilt in his lines, Jon?”

“I could not,” I confirmed. “Actually, Abby was the first one to spot him.”

Agatha flashed Abby a thumbs-up. “Good job.”

Abby grinned back. “Thanks. He’s not guilty of anything, Your Honor. He’s a genuinely good person.”

“I don’t know if the man’s even had a mean thought about someone,” I confirmed. “Also, no motive to hurt his sister. She was his anchor and he misses her dreadfully.”

Agatha was listening carefully, hands folded over her stomach in a thinking pose. “What else?”

“Well, some of the evidence isn’t viable.” Borrowman pulled out several things from his bag, laying them on the table. “Here’s what we’ve got to show. The murder weapon was apparently made in the backyard. Carol couldn’t trace any other origin point for it—”

Agatha let out a surprised huh sound, eyes widening. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Also, she can’t locate the body. She tried that first.”

Donovan lifted an attention-drawing finger. “We also asked a favor of Grant Walker, which he was happy to do, and we got another plot twist. He could connect to the dream plane but said he couldn’t trace her location.”

Agatha stared at him like she expected a punch line to make an appearance any second. “Grant. Our Grant Walker?”

“The same.”

“The man who has an insane range and can find anyone on earth? He said she’s alive, but he can’t track her? Hoooo boy. That’s…that’s something, right there.” Agatha abruptly sat forward, picking up the typed witness statements and scanning through them. Her face soured as she read. “I see. You’re able to discount half the evidence that locked this man behind bars, and you’ve barely started investigating.”

“About the size of it,” I admitted.

“How can anyone possibly hide a person from both Carol and Grant?”

“I wish I knew.” I splayed my hands in a helpless shrug. “Trust me, this is the weirdest thing I’ve heard in months. And I hear a lot of weird crap.”

“I bet you do.” She set the folder down, lips compressed into a tight line. “I see Solomon did his usual trick of finding someone to pin the blame on and didn’t actually investigate. I’ll hang the man by his balls over this one. He made a colossal mistake here, as this case received national coverage.”

Eh. It had?

To be fair, I rarely watched the news.

But that meant we had lots of witnesses to Solomon’s stupidity, which filled my heart with joy. Maybe we could finally kick this man off the force.

Borrowman put yet another folder in front of her, this one full of pictures. “To make things even weirder, the blood splatter in this case makes no sense. Forensics only found two spots—some drops on the garage floor and traces of blood in the shower drain. Nowhere else.”

Which was impossible. Blood didn’t clean easy, so carting a body around through the house and not getting blood anywhere but those places? Not happening.

“There’s too much here that doesn’t make sense.” Agatha gave a nod, standing and then making her way back to her desk. “I’m reopening the case. Keep me posted on your progress. I’m very eager to have this sorted out.”

I mentally punched a fist in the air. Yes! Dwayne would be so excited to hear about this.

Feeling like I could press my luck, I asked, “Can we have Dwayne transferred out of max security and get him a therapist?”

“I’ll send over the request myself,” she promised me.

Y’all, today was a good day. One of those days where justice triumphed and good things happened. Hopefully this was a harbinger of how this case would work out in the end.

We all thanked the judge profusely for her help, she got Abby’s number with the promise they’d talk later, and off we went. Really, us getting thirty minutes of this woman’s uninterrupted time was something of a miracle.

I felt like skipping out the door. Not only did we get our case officially reopened, with Dwayne soon to have the help he needed, but Solomon was in trouble~ Na na na na na~

Petty of me, yes, but there wasn’t a soul who wouldn’t celebrate if he quit the force tomorrow.

We paused outside on the sidewalk, with Borrowman lifting a hand to pause us. “Before I lose you, can you follow me down to the station? Got a guy in for questioning.”

“Sure.” Borrowman had bent over backward to be helpful on my case, so it was only fair I supported him on his. “Actually, sounds great. I can show Abby the ropes on how we do interviews.”

“Then let’s go.”

Abby looked excited too. She really did love this line of work, and her enthusiasm showed.

We all piled in our respective cars, driving the short distance to the precinct, then unloading. Donovan walked Abby through the process of signing in.

Borrowman showed me to the first interrogation room, so I slid into the viewing room on the other side of the mirror. I say “slid” because I did my best to not touch the door, and Donovan shielded me from it just in case. Abby slipped past too. She was hot enough the door was at risk from her as well. Just not immediately, unlike me.

Abby looked all around the dim room, noting sound equipment and walkies, taking it in. “So it really does look like this? Not just in TV land?”

“Nope, not just on TV. I mean, police procedurals in movies are rarely right, but the way a station looks is usually not too far off.”

She pointed at the glass. “But if we’re on this side, how do we communicate with Detective Borrowman?”

“That’s where I come in.” Donovan picked up one of the walkie-talkies from the charging station and waggled it in the air. “We use either this or my cell to speak to Borrowman. He’s got a Bluetooth earbud that lets him hear everything.”

“Ooooh. This is spy level.”

“Pretty much.” I, too, enjoyed the clandestine nature of it. I think all our inner children liked the idea of being sneaky.

Borrowman entered with his suspect, they both got situated at the table, and I took a minute to evaluate the suspect. On the surface, he looked like a blue-collar worker, one of those hardworking men you’d see at church every Sunday. Below the surface, though…phew, Lord Almighty. The only other narcissist possibly worse than this man was Rodger, and that was saying something.

I didn’t say anything. I watched Abby instead. She had good instincts with lines, it was simply experience she needed now, so I wanted to give her the chance to figure things out on her own, if possible.

She stared hard at the man, eyes narrowed, upper lip curled in disgust. “Yikes. He’s as bad as a villain of the week.”

I started laughing. Donovan damn near doubled over, leaning against the glass.

She blinked at both of us, innocent and confused. “What?”

“Abby, that has to be the best description ever.” Donovan straightened, still laughing on an internal level, bright yellow all in his lines.

“Pretty damn accurate, too.” I must remember this description later.

Borrowman had done the whole time and date thing. Now he was in full interrogation mode. “Mr. Addiman, I think you know why you’re here.”

Addiman just glared. Nothing to say yet.

Borrowman made a show of flipping through the police report in front of him. Rather thick report, too. “So far, I’ve got video evidence of you stalking your ex—”

“She’s not my ex! She’s my damn wife!” Addiman snapped. “And I didn’t tell her I wanted a divorce. She doesn’t get to leave unless I agree to it.”

I pursed my lips in a soundless whistle. Woooooow. Good job, lady, escaping this psycho.

“A marriage certificate isn’t a bill of sale,” Abby muttered in disgust.

“You’ve got that right.” Donovan also glared at the guy.

Why was I even here? Pretty sure Borrowman had this guy squared away with evidence, but I was also sure he’d brought me in for a reason.

Borrowman kept his voice level, body posture easy, like he had all the time in the world. “That why you tried to burn the house down with her in it?”

Oh shit. This wasn’t a stalking case. This was attempted murder. I paid better attention, and yup, there it was, tangled with the scarlet rage in his lines. The greyish white had been buried for a second there. It was clearly visible now, though.

Addiman seemed to realize he might be in trouble as he abruptly switched tunes. “Ha! If she was in a burning house, she deserved it, but I had nothing to do with it.”

I gestured for the walkie, and Donovan held it up quickly. “Lie.”

Borrowman didn’t bat an eye; he just kept going. “Have you been up to the family cabin before?”

“Sure.”

“Beautiful country up there.”

Addiman didn’t trust this casual chitchat but went along with it. “Yeah, it’s real pretty. Hunting’s great too.”

“How often you been up there?”

“Maybe a dozen times over the years. Hard to get off work, you know.”

“And it’s some distance away from your house, right?”

“Yeah, about a two-hour drive, with traffic and all.”

“That why you have to stop for gas?” Borrowman pulled a photocopy of a receipt out and shifted it so Addiman could see it. “This gas station is about five minutes from the cabin.”

And the plot thickened.

Addiman stared at the receipt like it would bite him, given the chance. “I went up that way to see if she was there, sure. I didn’t stick around, though. I had work the next morning.”

Pigs fly, too. “Lie.”

“Bet it was easy to light the cabin on fire,” Borrowman mused, like he hadn’t heard anything. “Log cabin, old wood, probably didn’t take more than a spark. If not for the sprinkler system installed inside—which was a smart precaution—whole thing would have gone up in minutes. Having been inside, you’d have known that. So was this another scare tactic? Or were you actually trying to kill her?”

Rage and the sage green of apprehension mixed like a Christmas cocktail in Addiman. Man was not as smart as he thought himself to be.

“You got nothing on me, Cop!”

I gestured for the walkie and said, “It was a scare tactic, but if she died, he wouldn’t have been too upset about it.”

Borrowman shook his head in resigned disgust. “You’re acting like this, and you wonder why she left you.”

“She left me for another man!”

“Stella isn’t with anyone else, man. She just outright left you.”

Addiman scoffed at Borrowman’s words, unbelieving.

Abby leaned into my side and whispered, “Is that anxiety I’m seeing in his lines?”

“The sage green? Yeah. Usually, anxiety means he’s hiding something that will absolutely nail his hide if we can figure out what it is.”

I had an idea of what it was, but I was curious if Abby would also pick up on it.

“Do they have kids?” Abby abruptly asked.

Ah-ha, she had picked up on it.

“Ask Borrowman,” I encouraged her.

Donovan held up the walkie-talkie and Abby repeated the question. “Do they have kids together?”

Borrowman was a veteran at this, so he didn’t look at the mirror, but from the way his head drew back for a second, he wasn’t expecting Abby to talk. But he dutifully repeated the question. “You got kids, Addiman?”

“What? No.”

Lie. Oh, I thought I knew what went down and why.

“Lie,” Abby stated bluntly. “He’s got at least one, and another romantic partner.”

I seriously wanted to hug her. Good girl, she’d picked up on both.

Borrowman needed no further help from us. He put two and two together very quickly. He sat back with a half laugh, darkly amused.

“Okay. Now I get the full picture. You and your wife had a prenup—at her family’s insistence because they didn’t trust you. Good call on their part. Prenup says if you cheat, you’re not getting anything. Am I right?”

“Shut up, man.” Addiman looked outraged but also a little scared now.

“But you did cheat and knocked some girl up, and your ex found out about it. Right? Which is why you’re doing everything to get her back or just get rid of her altogether.”

“I said shut up !”

“Baby born yet? Or girl still pregnant?”

“You can’t just make up a story like it’s true!”

“Not born yet,” I said into the walkie. Then I had a sudden, sneaking suspicion. “Ask him if he’s got a second phone.”

Borrowman didn’t miss a beat. “Do you have a second phone?”

“No!”

“Lie,” Abby and I said in unison.

“Ah-ha, that’s why you think you can get away with this.” Borrowman shook his head and stood. “I’ll bet you used your second phone to not only hide the affair, but to navigate your way to the cabin that night. Welp, guess I get to go find a phone.”

Addiman panicked. Outright panicked. Man was so many shades of green he could be mistaken for a tree. I had a hunch and on the spur of the moment asked Borrowman, “Ask him location. I think it’s at work.”

“You hide the phone at work somewhere? Desk maybe?”

Addiman didn’t answer this time, only glared.

“Bingo!” Abby clapped her hands together and then rubbed them like an evil villainess. “Definitely in his desk.”

“Looks like it.”

Donovan relayed for us. “Both of them said it’s in the desk.”

“All I need to know.” Borrowman turned and left.

Now I completely understood why Borrowman had us come in for this. He needed more evidence. The gas station receipt would only be circumstantial at best.

Donovan replaced the walkie and ushered us out the door as well. Borrowman met us in the hallway at the top of the stairs, far enough away no sound could leak through the doors.

“Thanks for the assist,” Borrowman said in greeting. “I knew he was hiding something, I just couldn’t figure out what. I didn’t suspect an affair. He’s also guilty of stealing a lot of his ex-wife’s jewelry, most of it heirlooms, and she’s taken him to court to get it back. I thought that’s what he was hiding, as it’s worth about five hundred thousand.”

Whoa, that was a lot of money. “He’s probably trying to keep it to pay for the divorce and new baby.”

“Likely. I’ll get a warrant and go look for the phone.” Borrowman offered knuckles to Abby. “Good job.”

She bumped, grinning. “Thanks. It was actually fun.”

“Feel free to come and play anytime.” Borrowman winked. “I’m off, thanks again.”

It was late in the day, basically quitting time, so I suggested, “Home?”

“Sounds good to me.” Donovan was already plotting steaks. Not that he had a specific line for it, I just knew him that well.

Abby pointed to the vending machine at the base of the stairs. “I’m going to grab a drink first, I’m beyond thirsty.”

“Go for it.” It was hot today. I’d get a drink too, but naw, I’d be home soon. She still had an hour’s drive.

Abby bounced down the stairs, pulling out her wallet from her back pocket as she moved.

“She really is good, isn’t she?” Donovan asked me in a low voice.

“She’s a fucking natural. She wants to be good, and it shows. Criminals won’t stand a chance against her.”

“I look forward to the day we can unleash her on the world.”

“Me too.” I felt like a proud parent.

In a second flat, I saw the Havili protective instincts flare to life. Eh, what? What was going on?

Before I could do more than turn my head, Donovan was racing down the stairs. What was— Oh. Abby had been cornered by someone at the vending machine, a sleazy looking guy with stringy hair and clothes three sizes too big. She was half turned, and I think trying to tell the guy to back up—I saw her lines flare with anxiety and irritation—but the guy didn’t move.

Donovan didn’t say a word. Just stopped at Abby’s back and loomed over the guy.

Sleazeball looked up, and up, and up some more into that angry face and abruptly swallowed before backing up.

“Hey, brother. Hey, man. We ain’t got trouble here, right? Just wanted to talk to her.”

Donovan didn’t say a word, only pointed— go .

“Yeah, man. No problem, no problem.” Turning on a heel, he raced off to the other side of the bullpen.

Man was stupid to mess with a teenage girl in a police station but apparently had enough survival instincts to not take on Donovan.

Yeah, let’s go home. I did not need any other excitement today.