The Littlest Prosecutor novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: The Judge Listens

Grandpa Ambrose listened in the back seat of Aunt Jo's little green car.

He kept the door shut.

Through the window, I watched him hold her phone against his ear with both hands.

Nobody said a word in the parking lot.

Faye stood by her white car with her purse over her arm.

She kept looking at the clock on her phone, and then at the doors of the center, and then at the uncles.

She looked restless, like someone ready to bolt.

"This is silly," she said, to nobody. "Birdie has an appointment."

"Birdie does not," said Aunt Jo, and she did not even turn around.

She held my hand the whole time.

Hers was cold.

I watched the dashboard clock.

After ten minutes, Grandpa Ambrose's mouth went tight.

At twenty minutes, he closed his eyes.

At twenty-six minutes, I knew he had reached the hallway, because I could see his hand start to shake on his cane.

I knew exactly what he was hearing.

I could have said it for him, word by word.

He sat there for a long time after it was over.

Then the car door opened, and he got out slowly, one foot and then the other.

He handed Aunt Jo her phone.

He did not look at Faye.

He looked down at me.

He was so tall that I had to tip my whole head back.

"Birdie," he said. "I heard you tell her you understood every word."

"Yes, Grandpa."

"I want you to know that I understood every word too."

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