Tate.”
“Tate.”
“Sure. It’s a good name.”
Facts. Think about the facts. Morning court will be in session for at least another hour. “If I hurry, I might catch her case.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Grady. Just stay away from me.”
Chapter 4
Tuesday, October 19, 10:15 a.m.
Charlotte reached the courthouse fifteen minutes later. She hustled up the front steps in her heels and dashed up to the line for the metal detectors. Normally, the wait irritated her. Today it made her want to scream. A man in front of her kept setting off the scanner, which required him to return and empty more from his pockets.
When it was Charlotte’s turn to pass, she made it through without a glitch and then quickly grabbed her personal items and briefcase as they passed through the scanner. She dashed up the stairs to the second floor courtroom and quietly slipped inside general court. Taking a seat in the back, she scanned the room. There were at least six girls being arraigned. Three were dressed like hookers, one wore ragged jeans with slumped shoulders, one looked drunk, and the last sat alone and quiet facing the judge. The last girl had long dark hair that brushed the middle of her back. Instantly, Charlotte’s gaze went to the last girl. The hair, the narrow breadth of her shoulders, and the way she tilted her head to the right instantly reminded her of Mariah.
The courtroom melted away for a second and she was transported back to an afternoon when two teenaged sisters sat in the trailer.
“God, Grace, do you have to brush my hair so hard,” Mariah wailed.
“Stop being a baby. You said you wanted tight braids to go with your Indian costume, and that’s what I’m giving you.”
“Not that tight.”
“Stop. I’d kill for your hair.”
“You would not.”
“I would.” The thick mane was so black, blue highlights shimmered in the strands when the light hit just right.
Once they’d dressed, the sisters were going to a Halloween party at the local high school. Mariah was the Indian and Grace was the cowboy. Neither attended regular school, and though it never bothered Mariah, it did bother Grace. Whenever they were in a town, Grace would check to see what functions were being held at the area schools. They gravitated toward the big fall and spring events: football games, plays, homecoming, and prom, knowing blending would be easier. They’d dress, hitch a ride to the school, and for a few hours they’d mingle and pretend that they were regular kids.
“The next case is the Commonwealth versus Sooner Mariah Tate. She’s been charged with credit card theft, petty larceny, and resisting arrest.”
Charlotte glanced at the bailiff and then to the judge. What was the judge’s name? Rosen. Judge Silvia Rosen. The graying pale woman didn’t raise her gaze from the papers on the bench. “Will the defendant rise?”
The girl with the long dark hair rose and for a moment turned her head in profile. Charlotte’s breath caught. The girl was the image of Mariah, and for a few seconds it felt as if Mariah had returned from the dead. Tears choked Charlotte’s throat.
Charlotte swallowed, shifted her gaze to the judge, rose, and moved with purpose and direction down the center courtroom aisle. Clearing her throat, she moved beside the girl, who now stood in front of the judge.
“Judge Rosen,” Charlotte said. “Charlotte Wellington. I am counsel for the defense.” She didn’t offer a glance in Sooner’s direction but sensed the girl’s confusion and relief.
The judge lifted a somewhat surprised gaze to Charlotte. “Ms. Wellington, this isn’t your normal beat.”
“No, it is not, Your Honor. But I’ve been retained to represent Ms. Tate.”
“Very well, Ms. Wellington. How does your client plead?”
“Not guilty. And I move that the charges be dropped.”
Silver bracelets jangled from Sooner’s wrist as she dug long fingers through her hair. She shifted her stance
“Tate.”
“Sure. It’s a good name.”
Facts. Think about the facts. Morning court will be in session for at least another hour. “If I hurry, I might catch her case.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Grady. Just stay away from me.”
Chapter 4
Tuesday, October 19, 10:15 a.m.
Charlotte reached the courthouse fifteen minutes later. She hustled up the front steps in her heels and dashed up to the line for the metal detectors. Normally, the wait irritated her. Today it made her want to scream. A man in front of her kept setting off the scanner, which required him to return and empty more from his pockets.
When it was Charlotte’s turn to pass, she made it through without a glitch and then quickly grabbed her personal items and briefcase as they passed through the scanner. She dashed up the stairs to the second floor courtroom and quietly slipped inside general court. Taking a seat in the back, she scanned the room. There were at least six girls being arraigned. Three were dressed like hookers, one wore ragged jeans with slumped shoulders, one looked drunk, and the last sat alone and quiet facing the judge. The last girl had long dark hair that brushed the middle of her back. Instantly, Charlotte’s gaze went to the last girl. The hair, the narrow breadth of her shoulders, and the way she tilted her head to the right instantly reminded her of Mariah.
The courtroom melted away for a second and she was transported back to an afternoon when two teenaged sisters sat in the trailer.
“God, Grace, do you have to brush my hair so hard,” Mariah wailed.
“Stop being a baby. You said you wanted tight braids to go with your Indian costume, and that’s what I’m giving you.”
“Not that tight.”
“Stop. I’d kill for your hair.”
“You would not.”
“I would.” The thick mane was so black, blue highlights shimmered in the strands when the light hit just right.
Once they’d dressed, the sisters were going to a Halloween party at the local high school. Mariah was the Indian and Grace was the cowboy. Neither attended regular school, and though it never bothered Mariah, it did bother Grace. Whenever they were in a town, Grace would check to see what functions were being held at the area schools. They gravitated toward the big fall and spring events: football games, plays, homecoming, and prom, knowing blending would be easier. They’d dress, hitch a ride to the school, and for a few hours they’d mingle and pretend that they were regular kids.
“The next case is the Commonwealth versus Sooner Mariah Tate. She’s been charged with credit card theft, petty larceny, and resisting arrest.”
Charlotte glanced at the bailiff and then to the judge. What was the judge’s name? Rosen. Judge Silvia Rosen. The graying pale woman didn’t raise her gaze from the papers on the bench. “Will the defendant rise?”
The girl with the long dark hair rose and for a moment turned her head in profile. Charlotte’s breath caught. The girl was the image of Mariah, and for a few seconds it felt as if Mariah had returned from the dead. Tears choked Charlotte’s throat.
Charlotte swallowed, shifted her gaze to the judge, rose, and moved with purpose and direction down the center courtroom aisle. Clearing her throat, she moved beside the girl, who now stood in front of the judge.
“Judge Rosen,” Charlotte said. “Charlotte Wellington. I am counsel for the defense.” She didn’t offer a glance in Sooner’s direction but sensed the girl’s confusion and relief.
The judge lifted a somewhat surprised gaze to Charlotte. “Ms. Wellington, this isn’t your normal beat.”
“No, it is not, Your Honor. But I’ve been retained to represent Ms. Tate.”
“Very well, Ms. Wellington. How does your client plead?”
“Not guilty. And I move that the charges be dropped.”
Silver bracelets jangled from Sooner’s wrist as she dug long fingers through her hair. She shifted her stance
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