“We’ll go out the back,” she said.
Madison hadn’t known there was a back. What she’d thought was a closet door opened into a brightly lit, windowless hallway. She followed the judge to an elevator that operated with a biometric sensor. The judge pulled off a black leather glove and pressed her fingers against the screen, and the doors slid open with a high-tech swoosh.
“This is the secure elevator. Reserved for judges. The doors are bulletproof.”
Madison nodded, impressed. As they got in, she felt like she was stepping into another life, one of privilege, but also danger. It was thrilling, though maybe it shouldn’t be. Judges had these protections for a reason. Litigants got angry. They protested, nonviolently the vast majority of the time, but sometimes—well, just because the murder of the judge’s husband remained unsolved didn’t mean it wasn’t retaliation.
The elevator deposited them in a dim, echoing underground garage, freezing cold and smelling of gasoline. Bulbous security cameras bristled from the corners of tall concrete posts. The judge walked quickly, shoulders tense, boots ringing on the hard floor, looking around like she expected an assailant to leap out at any moment. They came to a white SUV. Before getting in, the judge looked in the back seat. Checking for intruders, perhaps? They got in. Anxiety came off the judge in waves. It was unnerving.
“Do you drive, Madison?” she asked, backing out of the spot.
“Occasionally. I have a license but no car.”
The judge nodded, as if weighing the answer. Madison wasn’t sure whether she’d passed or failed that one.
They drove up a ramp to a metal gate. A tone sounded and the gate lifted, putting them out on a rain-slicked street. Tree branches and street signs swayed in the wind. They stopped at a traffic light and watched a pedestrian struggle to hold on to his umbrella.
“Thanks for coming out with me. I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
The words sounded like they came from the heart, and Madison shot a surprised glance the judge’s way. In the light from oncoming cars, her face looked white and strained.
“Is something wrong?”
The judge shook her head, clamping her lips tight, eyes on the road. Madison wondered if she was thinking about her husband. The clerks said they never spoke of him in chambers. But talking was good for the soul, for healing. The swish of wipers and drumbeat of rain on the roof created a sense of intimacy. Maybe the judge would open up to her. Though she was known to be very private, and Madison didn’t want to pry. Besides, once she came clean about Danny, the judge might not trust her with personal confidences. That thought was so awful, she wanted to cry. Maybe she should put off mentioning him until later in the dinner.
“Thank you for asking me to dinner,” she said to fill the silence. “I’d probably have forgotten to eat otherwise.”
“Oh, I remember what it was like, being a law student. Every second spoken for. Classes, extracurriculars. And I imagine you have a big social life. Friends, a boyfriend perhaps?”
“Not at the moment. I dated Ty Evans last year, but we split. We were too competitive to make it as a couple.”
“Hah, I can totally see that. He’s with Chloe now, right?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Her dad’s a friend from my prosecutor days. For what it’s worth, Doug Kessler really likes Ty.”
“Well, charming parents is the sort of thing Ty excels at.”
The judge’s mouth quirked into a half smile. It came as no surprise that she knew Chloe’s dad, a big-name partner in the firm where Madison would work next summer. Douglas Kessler was the kind of lawyer that Judge Conroy probably actually hung out with, as opposed to that lowlife Raymond Logue, who seemed like he got paid with suitcases full of cash. Danny was telling the truth about some things. Madison saw that now. But he was wrong about Judge Conroy being corrupt. She knew it in her heart. Besides, he had no evidence.
They pulled into an open parking spot and dashed through the rain to the restaurant. At the hostess station, the judge once again seemed jumpy.
“A table in the back, facing the door, please,” she said, and Madison shot her a glance.
Coming from someone else, that would sound melodramatic, like the person thought they were in a gangster film. But given the judge’s history, there could be reason for concern. As they followed the hostess through the bar, Madison found herself looking over her own shoulder. What she saw was heads turning as they passed, people checking out Judge Conroy. Was she known outside the legal community? Or just a beautiful woman, impeccably turned out on a stormy night, like the raindrops left her alone?