In the bathroom, the lights blazed. Madison had packed up her cosmetics bag and brought it upstairs before they left. But the judge left her things in disarray. Lipsticks and compacts and makeup brushes littered the vanity top. They’d stood there, side by side, applying bronzer and highlighter and blush. There was a Kleenex in the sink. She remembered debating lipstick colors. Madison said to go bold—Ruby Woo, the classic red from MAC. But the judge preferred subtle, a peachy nude from Chanel. She’d applied it and blotted it, tossing the Kleenex into the sink. It was there now, her kiss still visible.
Was it possible that Judge Conroy didn’t make it home from the reception? But her car was parked in its spot in the back alley. Though, since they hadn’t gone over together, she didn’t know for sure what mode of transportation the judge had taken. Maybe she’d Ubered. Or she drove there and back, made it to the house, and then something happened. Someone came in and took her. Yet the alarm was off, and there were no signs of struggle.
Someone she knew, then, whom she’d let in voluntarily?
Wallace?
The hairs on Madison’s arms stood up.
24
On the T back to Cambridge, she composed multiple texts and deleted them unsent. It was hard to say what you meant when you were worried about incriminating yourself.
Judge, could you get in touch? I have a question about an assignment …
Dear Judge Conroy, I noticed you were absent from chambers and am checking in to see how you’re doing. I hope you’re well …
You never came home from the reception. Where are you? Are you okay?
Please call, I’m worried about you …
The problem was, texts could be intercepted. Federal investigators could be tapping the judge’s phone. Wallace or Logue might be monitoring her communications. Madison couldn’t risk having her message fall into the wrong hands. If any of those people learned the extent of her involvement with Judge Conroy, she’d be in trouble, possibly in danger.
She decided to do nothing. It was safer to wait. Tomorrow afternoon, the final class was scheduled for the Fourth Amendment seminar that Judge Conroy taught. Madison would see the judge there. Unless Judge Conroy was a no-show, which would mean something dire had definitely happened.
The next day, she was en route to class when her phone dinged with a notification. It was from Canvas, the course website. “Update re: Fourth Amendment Seminar.” She opened the app with a sick feeling, reading the message from the registrar’s office.
CLASS CANCELATION. We received word that Prof. Kathryn Conroy is out of town until further notice. Class is canceled. We are following up to get further information.
A chill went through her. Who sent “word”？ It didn’t sound like the judge herself had contacted the registrar. Someone from chambers? Nancy, maybe? That didn’t bode well. Besides, if Judge Conroy had been planning a trip out of town, wouldn’t she inform the law clerks? And wouldn’t they tell Madison? Wouldn’t the judge tell Madison herself, to make sure Lucy got fed? That was the most alarming fact of all. The woman loved her cat more than any human in her life. She would simply never go out of town without arranging for Lucy to be cared for. No, something unexpected—possibly catastrophic—had come up. Arrest, or worse.
The judge disappearing was the fall of the first domino. Madison had to protect herself, or she’d be next. But how? Going to the authorities was complicated when you had criminal exposure of your own. She’d passed the warning to Kessler, and now she was mixed up in the conspiracy. How big a conspiracy? She had no clue. She’d agreed to carry a message without verifying what it meant, or what the implications might be. And yes, she did it for Danny, and for Mom, but she was beginning to realize how stupid she’d been. It wouldn’t help either of them for her to go to jail.
She should look into that case the judge made her ask about.
She exited the T, heading straight for Langdell. The silent magnificence of the law school reading room normally calmed her. But this time, the glittering chandeliers, the soaring columns, and the mahogany tables just reminded her of all she stood to lose. If she got arrested, she’d be expelled. And everything she’d been working toward for so long would come crashing down.
Ty was coming toward her down the long aisle between the rows of tables. She felt a small flame-lick of longing. Not just for a shoulder to cry on, but for the past, before things were so terribly screwed up.
She gave him a nod and half smile, preparing to pass. But he stopped her.
“I’m glad I ran into you. Can we go somewhere to talk?” he whispered.