Chapter 24: Two A.M.

On the nineteenth of November I was at window three at eight-fifty.

Nobody asked me to move, and nobody asked me to take the day off.

I had told the prosecutor I would give my statement at the arraignment, and then I would go back to work.

"You could sit this one out," said the girl at the next window.

"It's my courthouse," I said. "I'll be at my counter."

The hallway outside filled up at nine.

There were reporters on the benches and a camera crew by the stairs.

My mother sat on the end bench in her church dress with Darius beside her.

She had made him sit there.

At nine-twenty the heavy doors at the end of the corridor opened.

Two deputies brought Cornelia Stafford through them in a navy suit, with her hands cuffed in front of her.

Her pearls were gone.

Her silver hair was flat on one side, because nobody had told her how to do it herself.

She walked slowly, the way a person walks on ice.

The reporters said her name, all at once, and she did not turn her head.

She came down the long corridor toward the courtroom doors, and her path took her past my window.

I was stamping a boat registration.

I did not look up.

The deputies slowed a little as they came level with the glass.

Cornelia's shoes stopped.

"Miss Corwin," she said.

I pressed the stamp down.

I blew on the ink and checked the date.

I slid the paper under the glass to the man in front of me.

"Have a good day, sir," I said.

"Miss Corwin."

"Next," I said.

The girl at the next window stopped breathing.

Cornelia stood there one second longer than the deputies wanted.

Then they took her by the elbows, and she went on down the hall, and the courtroom doors closed behind her.

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