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courtroom.
    “Later, when he went out on his own, he took the cases nobody else would touch, simply because he believed in the people he was representing. I thought he was crazy but it’s what I admired him for the most.”
    “He hasn’t talked to me in twenty-eight years. Do you admire that?”
    The judge seemed to be expecting Kevin’s anger.
    “I knew your mom very well,” he said. “She was a wonderful person. I felt very sad when things went bad between the two of them. I still feel bad for you, Kevin, because you were the casualty of that war. I know there’s still rage inside of you.”
    Kevin gave him a look that asked, How the hell do you know what’s inside of me?
    The judge read his eyes. “Kate told me about the phone call yesterday, how you treated her. She asked for my advice before she made that call and I encouraged her to do it. I still think it was the right thing to do.”
    Kevin was embarrassed that the judge knew about his conversation with Kate. “I didn’t handle the call very well.”
    “Listen, son,” the judge continued. “I presided over a number of divorces in my days on the bench, enough to understand that this is a totally emotional issue for you. You can’t rely on the rational lawyer to evaluate the situation and react appropriately. You’re here for some answers as you should be. My one suggestion to you is be patient. Bite your tongue if you have to. If you have some time, and if your father survives this surgery—a lot of ifs, but that’s life—you’ll eventually get your answers. You won’t like them—they’ll be painful—but I do believe that you need to hear them. Your father and I have been friends for a long time so I’m not totally impartial in this matter. However, I do know that as much as you need to learn the truth, he needs to tell it.”
    “I hear you, Judge. I don’t know if I can hold it all together, but I hear you.”
    “I think you’ll handle it and I think you’ll get your answers. Everyone may not live happily ever after, but who knows?”

Chapter Sixteen
    F reddie Jenkins was sitting in the back of Mr. Reese’s history class, listening to him drone on about the Spanish-American War, when Della, the principal’s secretary, came over the intercom and asked him to report to the office. Freddie didn’t realize he was half-asleep until Della said his name, which caused him to jump and almost fall out of his chair.
    “I’m glad somebody can get your attention, Mr. Jenkins,” Mr. Reese said as Freddie tried to regain his composure. By that time, the whole class was laughing at Freddie.
    He was relieved to get out of Mr. Reese’s class no matter what the reason, but as he walked down the hallway, he started to wonder why the principal wanted to see him. He knew it couldn’t be good.
    Carlisle had left Rosie’s and driven immediately to the high school. There was about an hour of school left and he wanted to catch Freddie Jenkins before the school day ended. He probably should have taken the information to Vern but there was no time. He’d report it to the sheriff after the interview was over.
    He had some initial problems with Harvey Shay, the principal.
    Mr. Shay had been the principal when Carlisle went to Gladestown High. It was a small school, and Mr. Shay remembered everything about Carlisle, including that he was a bright young man who didn’t particularly like the classroom environment. Carlisle would rather be out on the water or in the woods with his father, one of the numerous ne’er-do-wells in Gladestown. He was reluctant to let Carlisle speak to one of his students, even if that student was Freddie Jenkins, who was of the same ilk and whom he disliked even more than Carlisle.
    “You don’t have the authority to interview one of my students, Mr. Buchanan, and I’m not going to allow it.”
    Carlisle was cool. He was getting a lot of practice maintaining his composure since he had to deal with Vern Fleming at some point