Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(39)

“Thank you.” Brynn looked from him to Skyler. “What is going on?”

“The sheriff’s deputies are searching for the shooter.”

“Shooter?”

“Erik said there was a shot fired. You didn’t hear it?”

“I don’t know.” She looked at Hayes. “It sounded like a car backfiring, maybe. Did you hear it?”

“I heard something. Not sure if it was a gunshot but something.”

Brynn’s phone beeped with an incoming text, and she pulled it from her bag. Ross: Where r u???

She glanced at her watch. “It’s eight forty. I have to get upstairs.”

“You want to go up?” Skyler looked surprised.

“Yes. I’m late for court!”

Skyler stared at her for a moment. Then she led Brynn out of the room and down the corridor crowded with cops. Above the din of voices, Brynn heard sirens outside.

Several prisoners in handcuffs stood against the wall. Brynn scanned the faces but didn’t see Justin, and her pulse picked up again as she checked the time.

They went to the front of the security line and stepped through the metal detector. Skyler stayed behind to talk to the guard manning the X-ray machine as Brynn and Hayes caught an elevator to the second floor. The doors to Linden’s courtroom were closed, and Brynn’s stomach clenched as she race-walked down the hallway, clutching her attaché case.

Hayes jogged ahead and reached for the door, and Brynn entered the packed courtroom. Every seat was taken except for the jury box. Brynn’s gaze zeroed in on the defense table, where Justin sat low in his chair.

Ross turned around. He looked distraught at the sight of her. Justin and his mother turned then, too, both looking distressed.

Brynn strode down the aisle, and the clack of her heels steadied her as she took in everything—the murmur of voices in the gallery, the polished wood of the witness box, the etching of Lady Justice with her scales, watching over it all.

“What the hell?” Ross whispered when Brynn reached the table.

“Ms. Holloran.” Judge Linden glared at her over the tops of his reading glasses. “Please approach the bench. Counselor?” He looked at Conlon.

She and Conlon approached.

“You’re late, Ms. Holloran. We have a full docket here, as I’m sure you are aware.”

“I apologize, Your Honor.” She stood ramrod-straight as she faced him. “There was . . . an incident outside the courthouse.”

Linden’s chin dropped, and he scrutinized her appearance. He glanced at Conlon. “Counselors, in my chambers.”

They walked to the door leading to his office. The bailiff stepped aside to let them pass.

“Not you.”

Everyone stopped, and Brynn turned around to see the bailiff blocking Hayes’s path.

“He’s my personal security guard,” she said. “Can he—”

“He can wait outside my chambers,” the judge said.

The bailiff moved aside. Hayes glanced at Brynn, then stepped into a narrow hallway outside the judge’s office. Once inside his chambers, Linden turned to face Brynn and Conlon, glaring up at Brynn now because she was a head taller.

“Does this incident have to do with the sirens I heard on my way in here?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Honor. There was a possible gunshot a few blocks away. Police are investigating, along with our security team.”

His bushy white eyebrows snapped together. “I heard about your security team. Am I to understand that this supposed gunshot is related to the murder of Jen Ballard?”

She cut a glance at Conlon. “Possibly.”

Linden crossed his arms and stared up at her, his expression hard. Several seconds ticked by as Brynn’s heart pounded and sweat pooled in the cups of her bra. She must look terrible. Disheveled. Out of sorts. She could feel Conlon beside her, sizing her up and sensing a weakness he couldn’t wait to exploit.

“In light of these events,” Linden said, “do you wish to take a brief recess?”

Her mouth dropped open. She’d been late, and now he was offering leniency? She tried to see through his steely gaze.

“Your Honor,” Conlon said, “the prosecution is ready. We’d prefer to move forward on schedule.”

“I’m asking Ms. Holloran.” The judge turned to Brynn, and it occurred to her that maybe he’d known Jen personally and that’s what this apparent sympathy was about. “Well?”

“We’re ready, too, Your Honor.” She looked at Conlon. “The defense would like to move forward also.”

“Very well, then.” Linden unfolded his arms and reached for the door. “Let’s not waste any more time.”





THE MINI-MART at the intersection of Commerce and South Streets was an impromptu staging area for Dallas law enforcement. Police units and sheriff’s department SUVs crammed the tiny lot, and uniformed officers milled on the sidewalk, sipping coffee and wolfing down breakfast tacos.

Lindsey pulled her unmarked Taurus into a gap beside a fire hydrant. She had no trouble spotting Erik Morgan, who towered over everyone. With his dark suit, mirrored sunglasses, and SIG Sauer at his hip, he looked like he should have been standing beside a president, not arguing with a potbellied sheriff’s deputy in front of a Grab-N-Go.