CHAPTER 12

Potomac, Maryland

MARGARET BLEVINS WOKE UP a minute before her alarm was set to go off.

Ordinarily, the justice came wide awake after a good sleep, ready for her morning run or her weight routine in the basement gym. But as she reached over to turn off the alarm on her phone, she felt kind of foggy-headed. Which was odd, because she hadn’t stayed up late or had any alcohol the evening before.

Yawning, she sat up and almost immediately felt dizzy. The sensation lasted a few seconds before clearing enough for her to stand and walk to the bathroom, thinking she needed a morning off from exercise.

Blevins sighed at her sleep-mussed hair in the mirror and turned on the shower. Her head and neck began to throb dully when she climbed in.

But she didn’t feel feverish. No body aches. And she hadn’t lost her sense of smell, so it probably wasn’t COVID.

Then she got dizzy again and sat on the shelf in the shower. Phillip, her tall, older husband, came in a few minutes later, scratching his belly.

He saw her there, looking dazed. “You okay, Maggie?”

“No, actually,” she said. “I feel kind of out of it, and I can’t afford to be today.”

“Final oral arguments of the year,” Phillip said.

“Why are you up?”

“I promised to get the kids off to school so you could go in early, remember?”

Blevins closed her eyes and nodded. Why hadn’t she remembered that? They’d talked about it last night before they turned off the lights.

“You look like you could use a double espresso,” Phillip said.

She opened her eyes. “A quad, and I don’t know why. I didn’t wake up once last night.”

“You didn’t have any wine either.”

“Exactly,” she said.

After dressing, applying her makeup, and checking the itinerary her senior law clerk had emailed late last night, Blevins felt a little better. She hurried downstairs to the kitchen and made herself a double–double espresso. After drinking a few sips, she noticed the fog beginning to lift.

Well, that was more like it. Probably something in last night’s takeout dinner hadn’t agreed with her.

She would not allow herself to think about that little attack she’d had in the woods the day before yesterday. This morning’s fog had nothing to do with that.

Blevins retrieved the newspaper from the front porch and drank more of the espresso while reading the news stories about the death of Judge Emma Franklin, whom she knew more as an acquaintance than as a friend.

Phillip, a patent attorney, walked into the kitchen dressed for work and saw what she was reading. “That was horrible,” he said.

“A tragedy,” Blevins said. “Emma had a first-rate legal mind. Kids up yet?”

“Just rousted them,” he said. “You have time for breakfast?”

“I’ll have it in chambers,” she said. She finished the espresso, put the cup in the dishwasher, and went over to kiss and hug her beloved husband. “I adore you. Tell the kids I love them.”

“First thing,” he said. When she turned to leave, he said, “Be brilliant.”

“Always,” Blevins said, waving as she left the kitchen. She retrieved her briefcase from her office and went to the front hall closet for her overcoat and umbrella. It was drizzling and cold outside, another good reason not to run.

She’d no sooner gotten the coat on than a horn honked in the driveway. “See you around seven!” she called.

“Bye, my love!” Phillip called back.

Blevins felt warmed inside as she walked out the door and opened the umbrella. They’d been married almost twenty years, and Phillip still said silly romantic things like that. How lucky am I? she thought.

Despite the rawness of the day, that made Blevins smile. She hurried to a black Chevy Suburban and when she opened the back door, she found her clerk, Natalie Martin, sitting on the opposite side and U.S. Supreme Court Police officer Jim Frazier at the wheel. Martin said, “Good morning, Justice Blevins!”

“How are you this fine morning, Justice Blevins?” Officer Frazier asked.

“Hello to all and trying not to get soaked,” she said, handing her briefcase to Martin and setting her umbrella on the floor. “Get the heat blasting in here, Jim,” she said, shivering.

Frazier did, then put the car in reverse.

Her clerk said, “Did you have time to check your itinerary, Justice Blevins?”

“Last night,” Blevins said. “One thing: I’ll be eating breakfast in chambers.”

“Already arranged,” her clerk said. “Breakfast burrito, extra salsa, large OJ, double espresso.”

“Cancel the espresso,” she said. “I’ve already had four and don’t want to hear oral arguments with my knees jiggling about.”

“No, ma’am,” Martin said, and laughed. “I put the latest for your review there in your door pocket.”

Blevins got out her reading glasses and opened the first file. The case and appeal involved state and federal statutes relating to interstate transport of organic fruits and vegetables.

Ordinarily, the young Supreme Court justice was an extremely quick study, but as she scanned the first page, she had some trouble following it. She read the page again but couldn’t get the gist of the argument.

Blevins had been known as one of the sharpest legal minds in the country even before being named to the high court, but now she was having difficulty focusing.

What is going on? Should I see a doctor?

“Justice?” her clerk said. “Did you hear what I said?”

“About what, Nat?” she asked, a little confused.

“Justice Mayweather,” Martin said. “His cancer may be back.”