Chapter 8: Upstairs

The courtroom in Marrow Creek held eighty people, and by nine on Friday morning every seat was taken.

Half the town had come to see what Terrence Kingswood's wife had done.

He sat at the front table in a navy suit with his hair combed and his hands folded.

He wore a look of patient sorrow.

He turned once and gave me a small, sad smile.

I did not smile back.

I sat beside the lawyer with a folder on my knee and a gauze square on my brow.

Behind me, on the left side of the room, a dozen men in black leather took up three whole benches.

Wick had put on a clean shirt under his vest.

June sat at the end with her photographs.

Talon sat directly behind me.

I could feel the heat of him at my back.

The judge was a gray woman who looked at everyone over the top of her glasses.

She heard Terrence first.

He was good.

He talked about worry, and sleepless nights, and the video he had posted only because he was out of his mind.

When the judge asked if the recording was real, he said, "Every word of it, Your Honor. My wife called me for help many times."

Then it was my turn.

I stood up, and my knees went to water.

Then I felt a hand against my back, there and gone.

Talon had leaned forward in the bench behind me.

I opened my mouth.

"He hit me on the first Friday of the month," I said. "He hit me because his envelope was short. I took his truck keys and I left."

My voice was steady.

I told it the way it happened, from the kitchen floor to the gate.

I did not cry, and I did not look at him.

June handed up the photographs.

The judge looked at each one for a long time.

When she was finished, she took off her glasses.

"Mr. Kingswood," she said. "I've seen the video you posted. I would like it taken down by the end of the day."

"Your Honor, I only meant to..."

"By the end of the day. The order is granted, effective now. You will stay five hundred feet from Ms. Hourigan, her residence and her place of work."

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