Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(28)

She paused, looking up the steps to see Conlon enter the courthouse. Hayes caught up to her, darting his gaze around as he adjusted his earpiece.

“Let’s go.” She hurried up the steps, her attention focused on the doors ahead of her. She passed through a pair of tall columns.

“Ms. Holloran!”

Finally.

She pretended not to hear the voice as she reached for the door handle.

“Brynn!”

She stopped and turned around. A reporter rushed up to her. She didn’t recognize him, but he was trailed by a cameraman.

“Ms. Holloran, have you talked to your client this morning? How is he feeling?”

“Justin and I spoke earlier,” she replied. “He’s relieved to finally have his day in court.”

Another reporter joined them, and Brynn guided them out of the traffic flow.

“Conlon says your client gunned down Seth Moore in cold blood and that he intends to get justice for this heinous crime. Would you care to comment?” The reporter tipped his microphone toward her.

She smiled. “I have no comment other than to thank people for their outpouring of support. It means a lot to Justin and his family.”

She reached for the door, but Hayes beat her to it and managed to stay close behind her as she walked through.

The courthouse was cool and dim compared with outside. As Brynn’s eyes adjusted, she glanced around and noted the long line at the walk-through metal detector.

“Crap,” she muttered. “We’re going to be late.”

She spied Conlon up ahead, talking and laughing with one of the courthouse security guards. The guard handed Conlon’s briefcase off to the woman manning the X-ray machine and then waved the prosecutor through.

Brynn strode across the lobby, trying to remember the guard’s name. Steve? Stan?

“Jeremy’s at the back entrance,” Hayes informed her. “There’s no line at the checkpoint there.”

“We’re going this way.” She cut a glance at Hayes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he looked stressed. If she’d gotten him in trouble, she’d smooth it out.

Brynn looked ahead and caught the guard’s eye. “Sam, how are you?”

He smiled. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How you doing this mornin’?”

“Late for court, I’m afraid.” She held out her attaché case, and he put it on the X-ray machine. “He’s with me,” she said, nodding at Hayes.

“Your bodyguard, huh?” Sam’s jovial expression faded. “I heard about all that.”

A barricade made of two metal poles and a nylon strap prevented people from walking around the metal detector. Sam unhooked the strap and waved them through.

“Thanks, Sam.”

“Y’all take care now.”

Brynn collected her attaché off the X-ray machine as Hayes glanced around anxiously. Not a rule breaker, this guy.

At the far end of the hallway, Brynn spotted Ross and Nicole and a pissed-off-looking Jeremy. She hurried to catch up to them. They had exactly four minutes to get to Linden’s courtroom on level two, and the judge was a fanatic about punctuality.

Ross stood tapping his foot at the base of the marble staircase. “What the hell? Why’d you go through the front?”

“Conlon was out there.”

His eyebrows arched. “Any reporters?”

“Two. We got a good sound bite.”

He smiled. “All right. Off to a good start, then. You ready, tiger?”

She started up the stairs. “Let’s go.”

Lindsey found Max in the police department garage, hosing down the back door of his unmarked Taurus. She got a whiff of vomit as she approached him.

“Ew. Drunk suspect?”

“Shit-faced.” He looked at her. “I heard about those shell casings. Good find.”

“Thanks. Any word back from the lab?”

“Not yet.” Max closed the car door and stepped over to shut off the hose. “I don’t expect much, though, do you?”

“Not if Mick kept the gun loaded.”

“How many cops you know keep an unloaded weapon around?”

“None,” she said.

“Exactly.” Max rolled up the hose, taking care not to get his slacks dirty. Judging from his dress shirt and tie, he probably had to testify later today.

Lindsey studied her former mentor, who’d been through three marriages, two since she’d known him. He was pushing fifty, but he looked good, and he knew it, too. He kept himself in shape, and his salt-and-pepper hair made him appear experienced rather than past his prime.

“So we know for a fact the gun came from Mick?” Lindsey asked.

“Looks that way.” Max leaned a hand on the roof of his vehicle. “’Course, we don’t know for sure, because the weapon’s still missing, but the casings and slugs fit that scenario. Why? What’s on your mind?”

“A lot.”

“Good. That’s why I brought you in on this.”

“Okay, here’s one thing bugging me,” she said. “No fingerprints at the judge’s crime scene.”

“He’s careful. Didn’t you read about him? He raped and murdered four women without leaving behind prints or DNA. The guy’s meticulous.”