You have to take these felony arraignment hearings. Right now.”
I coughed as surprised amusement bubbled through me. “You have got to be kidding.” I’d been an attorney for a month and had only covered misdemeanor plea bargains to date. Plus, my boss had just been arrested. “Get a continuance. On both of them.” I tried to hand the files back.
“No.” She shoved harder than I did. Her strength was impressive. “These cases are before Judge Hallenback, and he’ll just dismiss if we don’t show. He’s not playing with a full deck lately, but he’s still the judge. You have to take the hearings while Scot gets this mess figured out.” She tapped the top folder, which seemed rather light in my hands. “Just follow the notes on the first page. Scot sets out a strategy for each case. The defendant will either plead guilty, in which case you ask for a sentencing hearing sometime in the next couple of weeks. Or they plead not-guilty, and you argue for bond—just read the notes.”
District Court? I was so not ready for district court. I looked frantically around the mayhem surrounding me. How could I possibly go to court right now? “Where is everyone else?”
Clarice grabbed my arm and tugged me toward the door. “Frank and Alice are up in Boundary County prosecuting that timber trespass case. Melanie went into labor last night and is still pushing another one of her devil children out. Matt is with the police investigating that missing kid case. And Scot was just dragged out of here in cuffs.” Reaching the doorway, which was still open, she tried to shove me through it. “That leaves you.”
I dug my heels in.
The agent who’d been so determined to get his hands on the Stan Lee photo rushed my way. “You can’t take documents out of here.”
Relief swept me so quickly I didn’t have time to feel guilty about it.
Clarice turned and glared. “These are just two case files, and the judge is waiting for the arraignment hearings.” Flipping open the top one while it settled precariously in my hands, she tapped the first page with her finger. Hard. “Feel free to take a look.”
Ah, darn it. The agent scrutinized the first page and then the too few other pages before looking at the second file folder. I should’ve protested the entire situation, but my knees froze in place. So did my brain. I really didn’t want to go to district court. Finally, the agent grimaced. “All right. You can take those.” He moved back to the reception area like a bull about to charge.
I leaned in toward the paralegal. “Call everyone back here. Now.” I needed somebody with a lot more legal experience than I had to deal with this.
Clarice nodded. “You got it.” Then she shoved me—pretty hard—out the door. “Go to court.”
The flower-scented air attacked me as I turned and strode down the steps into the nice spring day just as news vans from the adjacent city screeched to a halt in front of my building, which housed the prosecuting attorney’s offices, the public defender’s offices, and the DMV. The brick structure formed a horseshoe around a wide and very green park with the courthouse, police station, and county commissioner offices set perpendicular to my building. Directly across sat Timber City Community College, which stretched a far distance to the north as well. The final side held the beach and Lilac Lake.
Ducking my head, I took a sharp right, hit the end of the street, and turned for the courthouse. The building had been erected when the timber companies and the mines had been prosperous in the area and was made of deep mahogany and real marble brought in from Italy. Instead of walking downstairs like I had the last two weeks, I climbed up a floor to the district court level. It even smelled different than the lower floors. More like lemon polish and something serious. Oh yeah. Life and death and felonies. My knees wobbled, so I straightened my blue pencil skirt and did a quick check of my white blouse to make sure I hadn’t pitted out.
Nope. Good. I shouldn’t be too scared, because the pseudo-metropolis of Timber City had only 49,000 residents, roughly the same as a large state college. But compared to my hometown of Silverville, which was about fifty miles east through a mountain pass, this was the big city.
My wedges squeaked on the gleaming floor, and I pushed open the heavy