Approaching the Bench

by Chantal Fernando

  “I know you will,” Callum replies, then turns back to me. “You ready?”

  I nod.

  As ready as I’ll ever be.

  chapter 7

  CALLUM

  THEY BRING US TO a house in a small, gated community. I can tell straightaway the place is well protected because our ID’s are checked and the car is searched before we can even drive in. The house is small, the garden well maintained. It looks like a small family home, not a place where you would hide someone. The cop walks us in and hands us a key. “All of these streets are patrolled, so don’t be nervous if you hear people around or see lights shining, it’s just us making sure you’re all safe.”

  “Okay,” I tell him, sharing a look with Trinity. He leaves us a number to call if we need anything, then disappears to let us “settle in.”

  What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into? I feel like there’s something they’re not telling us.

  “Do you think they suspect someone? It feels like with all these precautions they know how big the threat is, or are they just being overly cautious because of you?” I ask.

  I don’t know what to think, but I do know by my gut feeling that we aren’t being told everything.

  “I’m not sure,” Trinity replies quietly. “I want to call my cop buddy and see if he can tell me whatever they aren’t.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I admit, something not feeling right. I take a deep breath and glance around our home for the night. It’s not bad. A modern kitchen, comfortable-looking couch, television, and two bedrooms, the doors side by side. “Guess we better make the most of this. Think security will let a pizza delivery man in?”

  “Let’s find out.” She grins, moving to relax on the big green couch. “I’m starving, and a pizza sounds perfect.”

  “Feeling a little rebellious, Your Honor?” I tease, sitting down next to her. “Maybe we should ask the cop first? You know, in case we get killed, or something.”

  “Might be a good idea,” she replies, yawning.

  “I’ll go ask, you can have a shower or relax. You’ve had a long day,” I tell her gently. She turns toward me, giving me those eyes in full force.

  “Thanks for everything today, Callum,” she says, swallowing and lowering her gaze. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, to be honest. And to think that I didn’t even like you much before this . . .”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “I fucking knew it.”

  “You talk a lot,” she tries to explain, cringing. “Silence is okay sometimes, you know? You don’t need to always fill it.”

  “So all it took was saving your life to get you to tell me to be quiet,” I tease, shaking my head. “You’re a hard woman to please, Judge Williams.”

  “I’m not,” she denies, lifting her chin. “People just don’t understand me.”

  “Now that I believe,” I mutter, playfully nudging her with my arm. “Let me get you fed before you start getting hangry. I can only imagine the torture you’d inflict upon me then.”

  She grins, leans forward, and presses her soft lips against my cheek. “Okay. I’m going to have a shower then.”

  “Okay,” I reply, watching her leave. My eyes can’t help but drop to her cute little ass in the jeans she changed into. When I usually see her, she’s dressed in her robes, but she must have changed before she left. I can’t seem to look away. She looks so approachable . . . so normal. I guess at the end of the day, she’s just a woman. An exquisite one, but a woman nonetheless. I can’t believe that in the situation we’re in I’m checking her out; something is clearly wrong with me. I find the officer parked outside and ask him about the food situation. He says he’ll sort it out, just tell him what we want. I forgot to ask Trinity what pizza she likes, so I head back inside and knock on her door, which is slightly ajar.

  “Trinity?” I call out, and am about to close the door when she opens the bathroom door and sticks her head out. I can see droplets of water on her collarbone and her hair tied up on her head in some tall, giant bun thing, kind of making her look like the redheaded version of Marge Simpson.

  “Yeah?” she asks, pushing a few errant damp strands off her face.

  “Yes to pizza, but he’s going to send someone to get it. What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes locked on hers even though they want to drop just a little lower.

  “Can you get me a pepperoni with jalapeños, please?” she asks, gripping the middle of the white towel so it doesn’t drop. “And some garlic bread.” She pauses, then adds, “And some fries and soda too.”

  I think I just fell in love.

  “No problem,” I say, closing the room door behind me.

  I went from seeing her in her judge robes to jeans and a T-shirt to a towel in one day. It can only get better from here.

  I tell the officer what we want, then sit on the couch and turn on the television. If I pretend earlier today didn’t happen, it almost feels like I’m just on vacation with a beautiful woman instead of hiding from a psychotic criminal who wants to kill us.

  If only.

  Trinity returns to the couch wearing long silk black pajamas and fluffy slippers. She’s clearly used to luxury items; I guess money isn’t an issue for her.

  “Crazy how a shower can make you feel better even when your life is falling apart,” she says, glancing at the screen and smirking. “What the hell are you watching?” Well, I was watching her, but I turn to the screen to see some trashy reality show on. “I have no idea. And your life won’t be falling apart for too long, I promise.”

  We share a long, lingering look.

  I offer her my hand, and she takes it and gives it a squeeze, as if trying to comfort me.

  “I hope so,” she finally replies.

  WHEN THE PIZZA ARRIVES, so do two other officers with serious looks on their faces.

  “What’s happened now?” I ask them, placing the food in front of Trinity.

  The officer sits down and looks to Trinity. “We’re still waiting on the DNA results, which we’re hoping will be in by tomorrow morning to confirm this theory.”

  “But there is a theory?” I pipe in, food forgotten as I slide to the very edge of the couch, listening intently. “I feel like we’re not being told something.”

  The officer sighs and shares a look with Trinity, then continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “The name of the man you asked us to look into, Trevor Statton, we have some information. He just got out of prison last week, and we contacted his parole officer today, who has no idea where he is. He never checked in. If the DNA matches, we’ll know for sure. Until then, we can’t exactly do anything besides keep you safe, because we’re just going on your hunch.”

  Trinity freezes, the air suddenly sucked out of the room. Yeah, this is not good news going by the way she’s turned icy, like Elsa from that kid’s movie I once watched when I was stoned with Eddie.

  “Can they not hurry up the DNA evidence?” Trinity asks, seeming to get her bearings. “I’ve personally seen them come up with the results quicker for special circumstances. Why isn’t this one of those times?”

  She’s all business right now, no weakness to be seen or heard. Medusa is raring to go.

  The officer flashes Trinity an odd look, and says, “They are working as fast as they can.”

  “If it is him,” the other officer says quickly, “we’ll find him and bring him back in. If it’s not, whoever did it will be hunted. We don’t want to focus all our attention on Mr. Statton and miss the real culprit. We are not taking this lightly, Judge Williams. This is a serious offense, and we’re using all our resources to keep you safe and catch whoever did this. We will have a plan of action for you tomorrow morning, as soon as the results are in.”

  “I can see that,” she replies to him, sounding sincere. “But I’d also like to be kept up-to-date with the latest information instead of being carted around like luggage when my life is on the line.”

  “I understand,” he tells her, duck
ing his head respectfully. “We didn’t want to worry you, in case we were wrong. But thank you for telling one of our officers of your suspicions. We’ll leave you to eat. And don’t worry; there are cops all over this street, so you’re safe. We will let you know if we find out anything else.”

  Wait, what suspicions? I’m frustrated that a conversation has been happening, but I’m not allowed to be a part of it.

  He and the other cop who had been standing by the door both leave us alone. Before I grill her about who the fuck this Trevor guy is, and what information he’s referring to, I nod toward the pizza in front of her. She needs her energy.

  “Eat,” I demand, and I can tell she’s tired because she doesn’t argue, or even flash me a look at my bossy tone, she just opens the pizza and grabs the biggest slice. After she’s taken a bite, I do the same.

  Once she’s onto her second slice, she speaks. “It could easily have been Trevor. I remember what he looked like, and his rough height and weight. There was something about the way he looked at me when I sentenced him. I never forgot it.”

  “And you realized this and spoke to the police without me?” I ask her, feeling a little . . . I don’t know. Betrayed. Why would she tell them this information and not me? It makes no sense.

  “It was a hunch, nothing more. I wasn’t trying to go behind your back,” she says without guilt.

  “What was he in prison for?” I ask. We need to know who we’re dealing with, and I need to know why she’s being so weird about it.

  “That time, voluntary manslaughter. In the past? I’m pretty sure he’s done everything from drug possession to burglary,” she explains. “As you know, the laws often leave it up to me in deciding the punishment for these people, and I look at each case individually. Trevor was actually the first person I sentenced after I was sworn in, when I was twenty-six.”

  Holy shit, that’s young.

  She’s thirty-one now, six years older than I am.

  “So what, he got out after five years? How long was his sentence meant to be?”

  “Ten years,” she replies, shaking her head. “I don’t know why they let him out on parole so early, I’d have to look into it.”

  She looks like she wants to kill whoever allowed him to be released. I feel sorry for whoever that person may be. Or maybe not.

  “So why would he want to kill you though?” I ask, studying her. “It makes no sense, unless he’s simply batshit crazy.”

  “I don’t know,” she replies, licking her thumb and index finger. She looks me right in the eye. “The truth is, Callum, I was probably harsh on his sentencing. It was my first case, and I didn’t want to show any weakness. I could have easily given him a lighter sentence. It’s the only reason I can come up with, anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you guessed it was him?” I ask her, jaw tightening.

  “I guess I didn’t want to admit what I did,” she murmurs, looking down at her hands. “I don’t like to be wrong, Callum. I pride myself on being strong and unbreakable, but at the end of the day I’m just a person. I guess you seem to think a lot of me, and I don’t want that to change.”

  “Because you gave this man a harsh sentencing? Trinity, after what he’s done, I’m kind of wishing you gave him the death penalty,” I say, scrubbing my hand down my face.

  What a clusterfuck this whole scenario is.

  chapter 8

  TRINITY

  TREVOR FUCKING STATTON.

  There was always something about him that set me on edge, like he was a bomb waiting to detonate. Goes to show that my gut instinct is never wrong, even when I was just sworn in and wasn’t sure what I was doing. I sigh and push the pizza box away, my eyes bigger than my stomach. Luckily Callum eats the fries and garlic bread, along with most of the pizza, so I don’t have to feel bad about wasting food.

  Callum sighs and says, “You know you go ice queen sometimes, right?”

  “What?” I ask, laughing softly. “I do not. And I’m sorry about the whole Trevor thing.”

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell him, other than I’m not used to having to explain myself, and it was just a guess.

  “I guess I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me, to be honest. You kind of need to trust me. And if you don’t after everything we’ve been through today, then I don’t know what else to say to you,” he says, studying me.

  He’s right, of course. He saved my life, and I kept him in the dark. A small piece of information, yes, but I still did it.

  “I do trust you,” I tell him, only realizing now that it’s true.

  I trust him.

  I hardly trust anyone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I promise I won’t keep you in the dark, even if it’s just a theory.”

  “Good,” he murmurs, rubbing his flat stomach. “Going to need to go to the gym after that.” He pauses, then adds, “Or run from criminals. Whatever our new exercise regime is.”

  “You don’t take anything seriously, do you? Here you are making life-or-death jokes,” I point out, shaking my head. “Quite the duo, aren’t we?”

  “The nerdy Bonnie and Clyde,” he says, chuckling. I join in, the two of us both in this laugh-or-cry situation, both so out of control and our comfort zones that we have nothing else to do but try to hold on to what else is thrown at us, and to try to survive.

  How things can change in an instant.

  “You’re not so bad, Judge Williams,” he murmurs, looking at me before going back to the forgotten television screen, the nightly news now playing.

  “Right back at you,” I say to his profile. “I think I’m getting used to the chattiness.”

  “You’ll learn to appreciate it.”

  “I hope so, otherwise it will drive me insane,” I fire back.

  I lay my head on the soft suede, closing my eyes, exhaustion suddenly hitting me.

  “Come here,” he demands quietly, tapping his strong thigh. I scoot closer to him and rest my head there, reclosing my eyes.

  There’s a weird connection between us, along with some tension, a draw of some kind that has always been there, but I was able to ignore. Now, it’s intensified. The boundaries that kept me safe before are no longer there, but I need to just keep reminding myself about the reality of the situation, not get complacent in this temporary state we’ve found ourselves in.

  Temporary.

  This is temporary.

  I drift off, my head against his thigh, and I sleep like a baby.

  Like I didn’t almost lose my life today.

  I wonder if it’s because of my strength or my company.

  I WAKE UP TO a knocking on the front door, so I sit up quickly and with a deep intake of breath, wondering what is going on now. My eyes dart around the bedroom, and I find myself alone, but then Callum appears in the doorframe. He must have carried me here after I fell asleep last night.

  “The cops are here and want to talk to us,” he tells me. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “I’d love some,” I tell him, my voice husky from sleep.

  “Take your time,” he says kindly, closing my door and leaving me alone once more.

  I fall back on the bed for a moment, but then force myself up and into the shower. Who knows what’s going to happen today, but I want to be clean and dressed for it. After I dry myself I put on a pair of skinny jeans and a black top, then make my way to the living area. Callum hands me a hot mug of coffee, and I quickly sit down.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  He sits next to me, the roughness of his jeans rubbing against my free hand, which is resting next to my thigh.

  “It’s him” is all the officer says, something I already felt like I knew.

  “And now what?” I ask him, remaining calm.

  “The two of you are going to be put in protective custody until we catch him and put him back in prison, where he clearly belongs,” the officer explains. “Pack your things. We’ll be heading to the new location as soon as possible.
”

  “Out of curiosity, why can’t we stay here?” Callum asks.

  “This is just a temporary safe haven,” the cop informs us. “We don’t have the manpower to have this many cops watching you all of the time, so we’re going to move you somewhere a little farther away. Trust me, there’s no way in hell he or anyone else is going to find you. New town. New identity. New names, and you’ll get new cell phones too. You’re going to be untraceable.”

  “My brother—”

  “Is fine,” the cop cuts him off. “He’s with Eddie, and we have someone checking in with him. You have no need to worry about him, Callum. You need to worry only about yourself and the judge.”

  “He can’t have any contact with him at all?” I ask, feeling terrible for Callum. Can’t they text message, or something? Surely they can’t trace us just from that. Trevor would have had to figure out who Callum is and stalk him to get that far, never mind know someone tech savvy enough to pull that off.

  “You can call him now, or any time before you’re relocated,” the officer says. “But after that I’m afraid not. You’re going to have to trust us to keep your brother safe, all right? If there’s any kind of threat, he’ll be relocated as well, but I assure you, he’s not on anyone’s radar right now.”

  Callum’s Adam’s apple works as he swallows. “Okay.”

  He doesn’t have much of a choice. I reach out and take his hand, because I don’t know what else to do. If anything happens to Justin, even though I know it’s a long shot, I would never ever forgive myself.

  “It will be okay,” I say, even if I don’t know if that is the truth. Nothing is guaranteed, and I probably shouldn’t make promises that I can’t keep. But what else am I meant to say? The sooner they catch this guy, the sooner that we can get back to our old lives, and everyone can be safe.

  I turn to the officer and tell him, “I want to make a call too.”

  He nods and then moves to stand at the door. I turn to Callum. “You call your brother and tell him what’s going on. I’m going to call my cop contact and ask him to personally make sure your brother is okay. Then at least we know someone I trust is looking after him instead of a stranger.”