Bench Trial in the Backwoods

by Maggie Wells

  Earlier, he’d given Judge Nichols a brief rundown of all the incidents involving his property. Harry and the judge had worked closely for a number of years, and since his office was adjacent to the judge’s chambers, he felt the man should be in the know. He also wanted someone in a trusted position, someone who wasn’t law enforcement or had any personal vested interest in seeing Coulter convicted beyond a thirst for justice, to know what was happening.

  In the event something should happen to Harry.

  Judge Nichols, always a fair and patient man, had listened calmly, taken notes and assured Harry if the worst ever came to pass he would throw the full weight of his influence behind flushing out who was responsible for these misdeeds.

  Harry had felt comforted for the five minutes it took to walk from Judge Nichols’s chambers back to his own office.

  The stack of mail had undone his sense of calm.

  Pulling a letter opener from the center desk drawer, Harry leaned closer to the pile and began to shift it with the tip of the blade to survey the contents. The number-ten envelopes were likely simple correspondence from law firms in the area. He saw the logo from Wendell Wingate’s firm, now run by his grandson Simon, printed on the corner of one. The names on the Christmas cards were all familiar to him. Mostly colleagues, but a few friends from college, and a couple of locals who knew the best way to get him was always at work rather than home.

  He snared the edge of one envelope with the tip of the opener and pushed it from the pile. The sticker in the corner showed it was from Lourdes Cabrera. He had only seen Lori in passing since the night of the mystery powder scare, but the sight of the card made him smile. He pulled the envelope out of the stack and slit it open. Deputy Cabrera had sent him a Christmas card. Mailed it, even though they worked directly across the foyer from one another. He couldn’t wait to prod Lori’s boyfriend, Simon, about making her list.

  When he removed the heavy card stock from the envelope, he saw it wasn’t simply a card but an invitation. A tastefully designed holiday party invitation. He smiled at the sight of it. Elsewhere in the world, emails, texts and phone calls might be enough, but here in South Georgia, when a person was throwing a soiree of some import, paper invitations were still the done thing.

  Harry rocked back in his seat smiling as he read the details. Lori may have mailed the invitation, but the holiday party was to be held at Simon’s house. His eyebrows rose when he noted the date. It was set for this coming Saturday, which meant this had been thrown together at the very last minute...or he’d been an afterthought on the invitation list. The second notion made him frown. In the past few months, Harry had come to consider Simon, Ben and Lori some of his closest friends. He preferred to assume the party was arranged last minute, and not that he was on the B-list.

  No sooner had the thought entered his mind than a text message buzzed on his phone. He extracted it from his suit pocket and read the screen. It was from Simon Wingate.

  Did you get the invitation?

  Harry smirked. The impatience was typical for Simon. Thumbs flying, he texted back.

  Just opened it. Did you forget to mail mine in the first round?

  The three dots appeared and Harry found himself partially holding his breath as he waited for his friend to reply.

  This is the first round, Simon said in the first bubble. It’s kind of a last-minute thing. I was going to text, but Lori wouldn’t let me.

  Harry snickered, but before he could reply, another bubble appeared.

  Can you make it?

  I don’t see why not, he typed back.

  The three dots appeared again, and then the answer to Harry’s next question magically appeared.

  And Alicia? Are you bringing her?

  Apparently, he was expected to bring his guest. A flashback of hot, hungry kisses ignited in his mind. The last time he and Alicia had attended a party at Simon’s house, the evening had not only ended with them tangled in the sheets, but also...a baby.

  If she wants to come, he eventually typed.

  There was a longer pause as the ellipses blinked on the screen. A larger text bubble appeared.

  Good, because we’re having this thing since Lori heard Alicia was back to stay for a bit and you two are together. I think she might have a girl crush on Alicia. Either way, any excuse for a party, right?

  Harry chuckled, tickled by Simon’s reasoning.

  This way, you get to be the first people in town hosting a Christmas party.

  May have crossed our minds, Simon replied. Another bubble appeared a moment later. See you Saturday.

  Setting his phone aside, Harry decided to start in on the rest of the Christmas cards to see if they also had surprises in store. Alas, they were the usual assortment of family photo collages, winter landscapes or variations on jolly old St. Nick.

  Next, he opened the correspondence from the law firms, unfolded the papers and gave them a quick scan before putting them in his outbox for his assistant to pick up and add to the appropriate files.

  Only the two manila envelopes were left.

  He prodded each one with the tip of the letter opener. One looked to be filled with paperwork and appeared to have been sent by the Prescott County district attorney. The other appeared to have some sort of item enclosed in a hard square, like a picture frame. The return address showed it was from his sister.

  Curious as to why Sarah would be mailing something to his office rather than to the house, he slipped the package open and peered inside. There was a framed photo and a note. Harry smiled, expecting to see another artfully casual shot of his nephews romping in a park or rolling in the snow or some such thing.

  He pulled the frame from the envelope and the folded sheet of paper covering the glass fluttered. He picked it up, but rather than his sister’s hurried cursive, he saw a single typed sentence.

  “Next time it won’t be a rock.”

  He stared at the paper for a moment, willing his brain to absorb both the unexpected message and the import. As it was, all he could do was catalog the facts as he saw them. Plain white copier paper. Standard Courier font, no bigger than twelve point. A threat. Mailed from his sister’s address.

  “What the—”

  He bit back the profanity and dropped the piece of paper atop the frame once again and grabbed the envelope. It was postmarked in Atlanta. Not mailed from his sister’s address. It was a ploy. A way to get him to open the damn thing without a second thought.

  He snatched the piece of paper from the frame and found himself staring down at a photograph of Samuel Coulter. It had been inscribed, autograph style. “I’ve been framed, S.J. Coulter.”

  Harry dropped the frame like it was hot. His mind raced. Rock? What did they mean rock? Oh, damn. What if Layla had opened this? It was one thing to come after him. He shot out of his chair and took off for the front of the office at a run.

  “Layla! Dani!” He shouted their names though he knew the office was empty. He was almost to the door when he looked through the plate-glass windows and saw a small cluster of people gathered near the drained fountain in the center of the atrium. Among them were Layla and Danielle, Deputy Lori Cabrera and Julianne Shields, the sheriff’s department’s dispatcher.

  “What happened?” he demanded, breathless. “What’s going on? Is anyone hurt?” he said, scanning each woman for injury as he skidded to a halt near the group.

  Layla swiveled, her eyes wide and frightened. “Someone threw a rock through the window.”

  Harry rushed over to them. Shaking his head, he gazed down at the shaken young woman. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said a shade too quickly.

  “What window? I didn’t see any broken glass.”

  “It was in the break room,” Danielle informed him. “I was up at the county clerk’s desk, but Layla was in the office.”

 
Lori Cabrera spoke up. “We think they meant to throw through your office window but miscounted.”

  Harry blinked at her. This was a perfectly reasonable explanation. At least as reasonable as anything was these days. It would be easy to get it wrong. The municipal building had been built in the 1960s. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the interior were meant to allow light to shine inside, but the exterior windows were built high on the walls and embedded in brick. A person couldn’t simply walk by the building and peer inside. Such windows kept things bright enough while keeping the relentless South Georgia heat out. They also provided security for the law enforcement and legal professionals who worked in those offices.

  “Where is this rock?” Harry demanded.

  Lori held up a large zip bag with a smooth brown river rock about eight inches in diameter inside. “There was a note rubber banded to it,” she reported.

  “Of course there was,” Harry snapped, unable to keep the snarky edge out of his tone. “I bet it said something to the effect of ‘Free Coulter!’”

  Before Lori could confirm or deny, Layla nodded like a bobblehead doll. Harry swallowed his anger and impatience. He couldn’t get worked up. He needed to remain calm so all those around him did so too.

  He gave Layla’s shoulder an awkward pat. “Were you in the break room when it happened?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I was in there like two minutes before,” she said with a shudder. “I was restocking the fridge with water, because I thought you’d be back from Judge Nichols’s office soon. I made myself a cup of coffee. I’d just gone back to my desk.”

  Harry clenched his jaw, but he looked her directly in the eye when he spoke. “I’m glad you aren’t injured, and I’m sorry you’re scared.” He gave her a wan half smile. “You said you wanted to get some experience in a DA’s office before you started law school. I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind, but sometimes this is the reality of it, Layla.” He straightened and glanced around their group. “Sometimes, stuff like this comes with the territory. We prosecute bad people. Bad people associate with other bad people, and sometimes they think they can intimidate us out of doing our jobs, but they can’t.”

  He snapped his mouth shut and shifted his gaze from one person to the next.

  “I realize I am not the lead on this case, but for some reason they are singling me out, and I refuse to back down,” he said firmly. “Having stated my intention to make my stand, the last thing I want to do is put any of you in danger.” Locking eyes with Layla, he said, “If either of you wish to take a leave of absence or find a way to try to do some of your work remotely, I have no issue with giving you some flexibility.”

  He then zoomed in on his assistant district attorney. “Same goes for you. But I want you both to know I won’t be scared into quitting.” He rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath. “I am scared, but I’m not quitting.”

  “We’ve got your back, Harry,” Deputy Cabrera said gruffly.

  He nodded, then shifted his attention to the two women who worked for him. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared. But if this is the career you want, if this is the path you’re going to choose to take, you’re going to have to find a way to tamp down your fear, as well. I don’t mind admitting I’m scared. I don’t like having my home and office violated. I don’t like having the people around me frightened and intimidated. If I could do my job in a way where I wouldn’t have to deal with these sorts of things, I would. Do you understand me?”

  The two women nodded, then stepped out of the small knot of people. He glanced at Lori. “Have you got enough of a statement?”

  The deputy nodded, and Julianne, the dispatcher, reached over to pat Layla on the shoulder.

  “I think we’re good here, Harry,” Lori said. “Keep watching your step. Let us know anytime anything happens. Anything at all,” she ordered.

  He nodded and then gestured for the two other women to follow him back into the justice side of the law-and-justice center. As he reached for the door handle to hold it open, he spun around and called out to Lori Cabrera.

  “Oh, and, Deputy?”

  Lori drew to a stop. “Yes?”

  “I’d like to RSVP for Saturday,” he called across the atrium, holding up two fingers.

  The exterior door opened and Alicia walked through holding a white bakery bag. “Hey,” she said, dividing the greeting with a glance between himself and Lori. “What’s Saturday? Am I missing something?”

  Lori suddenly tucked the evidence bag behind her leg, then shot a pointed look at Harry. “Nothing Harry can’t fill you in on. See you guys on Saturday, and hopefully not before.”

  The moment the door to the sheriff’s department whooshed closed behind Lori, Alicia looked at him questioningly. “Well, I guess she told you. What’s Saturday?” she asked again.

  He forced a smile but knew it wasn’t quite enough. “We’ve been invited to our first Christmas party.”

  Alicia’s eyes narrowed as she approached him. “A Christmas party? Isn’t it still a bit early for those?”

  Harry shrugged. “It’s after Thanksgiving, so I think any Saturday is fair game,” he said, trying to inject a note of lightness into his tone. But Alicia wasn’t fooled.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The usual,” he said dismissively. “I got a rock thrown through the break-room window this morning and a framed photograph of Samuel Coulter sent to me by someone using my sister’s return address.”

  Alicia, in all her wisdom, zeroed in on exactly what was bothering him most. “Your sister’s address?”

  He tipped his head in the affirmative. “Exactly. But postmarked in Atlanta.”

  “So whoever this is either actually knows you and your family or has enough knowledge of you to get access to personal information.”

  Sighing, he released the door and let it swing shut, leaving them alone in the echoing atrium. “It isn’t too hard to get personal information. You don’t have to be much of a computer hacker to dig up people’s addresses these days.”

  Alicia pondered for a moment. “No, probably not. But unless you’ve got a bunch of programmers who decided they were born to be wild, it might discount your biker gang.”

  He sent her an arch look. “Aren’t you being presumptive? For all you know, each one of those guys has a PhD.”

  Alicia nodded in concession. “You’re right. I was typecasting. In my defense, I haven’t had any caffeine and I’m not sure my brain knows how to function without it. Speaking of caffeine, I think I blew our cover.”

  “How so?”

  “I didn’t know you don’t drink coffee. Mrs. Brewster had to tell me.”

  “Ah, yeah, well, it’s kind of new. I broke the habit a year or so ago.”

  She pulled a face. “Sorry. She may be suspicious now. If we were in a real relationship, I’d know you were a freak of nature.”

  “You can tell her I’ve been hiding my dirty secret from you. Camille loves to be in the know.”

  She frowned as she looked down at her hand and then back up at him, lifting it as if she’d completely forgotten she was holding a white paper bag. “I brought you something.”

  Sheer surprise made his heart skip a beat. “You did?”

  She nodded solemnly. “I bought all three because I didn’t know which one you would prefer, but now I’m thinking you probably need all of them.”

  He took the bag from her and unrolled the top. Peering inside, he saw three doughnuts. One glazed, one cinnamon twist and one cream-filled. This time, there was no holding back his smile. “I think you’ve mistaken me for a police officer.”

  “Now who’s typecasting?”

  Harry chuckled, then gestured toward the door. As he pulled it open for her, he said, “You forget, I’ve watched Ben Kinsella demolish a box of doughnuts.”

  She l
ooked back at him over her shoulder as she passed him and led the way toward his office. “Good.Then you won’t mind if I eat the cream-filled.”

  Harry sobered instantly. “Have you not had any breakfast yet?” He took two quick steps to fall in beside her. “I told you to help yourself to anything you wanted.”

  She shot him a sidelong glance. “You operate under the assumption I know how to cook. Now we’re back to the typecast thing again.”

  “You could be typecast yourself by claiming you are a woman so focused on her career, she never bothered to learn how to cook.”

  She smirked as she waltzed into his office and plopped into one of the guest chairs. “Another case of a cliché coming true.”

  Harry dropped the doughnut bag on his desk, then held up a finger. “Hang tight—I’ll be right back.”

  When he stepped back out of his office, Layla was hanging up the phone. “Maintenance is going to be right up to put some plywood over the window,” she reported.

  Harry nodded. “Thank you for calling them. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. I was freaked, you know?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  Harry let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I will head home for the day,” she said cautiously. “I only need—”

  He held up a hand. “No need to explain. Go ahead and take the day. Call or text me to let me know how you’re doing, okay?”

  She nodded, then reached into the bottom drawer of her desk for her purse. “I will.”

  Harry stood back for a moment watching as the young woman gathered her belongings. She left with a self-conscious wave. When she was gone, he walked toward the break room. On his way, he poked his head into Danielle’s office. “Are you sticking around today, or do you want to head out too?”

  Danielle released an indelicate snort. “Not scared of rocks, Harry.”

  “Neither am I, per se,” he said pointedly. “But there have been other threats—one implying it may be more than a rock next time. If you wanted to avoid the office until we figure this out, no one would blame you.”