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the victim's
conduct.
    I watched
my adversary knock off the avowed feminist with three unmarried sons in college
and graduate school-not likely to vote with me when it came time to reach a
verdict-and get rid of five or six young women whom he didn't happen to notice
were making eye contact across the room with Andrew Tripping or Robelon himself,
almost flirtatiously.
    I didn't
see my paralegal, Maxine, enter and walk up to the clerk's desk on the front
side of the room opposite the jury box. She was distracting Moffett, and he
called her on it. "You got something you need to disturb us for,
missy?"
    "She's
got to talk to Ms. Cooper, pronto, Judge," the clerk said.
    He stood
behind his chair and waved me in Maxine's direction. I was no happier than
Moffett and my expression must have showed that.
    "Sorry,
Alex. Mercer told me to get to you immediately. He wants to know if you can ask
the judge to revoke the defendant's bail and remand him overnight."
    "What
possible reason would I have to do that?" I asked.
    "A
woman called your office a little while ago, looking for you. She claims to be
the foster mother of Dulles Tripping. She says the principal sent the boy home
with a note this afternoon, telling her that there was a man hanging out in
front of the school yard at seven-thirty this morning, asking other kids if
they knew where Dulles was."
    "Did
the woman leave her name and number? Did the teacher describe the guy?"
    I was
snapping at Maxine for answers that I knew I should not expect her to have.
    "From
what she said to me, it sounds kind of like the defendant," Maxine said.
    "If
it happened first thing this morning, why did the principal wait so long to
tell her?"
    I was
trying to recall what time Tripping had gotten to the courthouse.
    "He
didn't wait. The woman had some medical appointments in the morning, after she
dropped Dulles off at school. They'd been looking for her all day but she never
went back to the house until after she picked up the boy."
    I was
over a barrel again. I couldn't make a bail application alleging that the defendant
might have violated the order of protection without at least a firsthand
ability to assess the foster mother's credibility. One more player I hadn't yet
met. I needed to get the details from the principal. If the request for remand
backfired, I would have aggravated the judge unnecessarily. If I erred on the
side of caution, I might be giving Tripping one more opportunity to
intercept-or even to harm-his young son.
    "I'll
ask for ten minutes so I can call her. Give me the woman's number," I said
to Maxine.
    "That's
just it. She was spooked. Said you didn't know her name and she wasn't about to
leave it with Mercer or anyone else who could track her down. She just wanted
you to know that she was taking Dulles and leaving town with him. She'll be in
touch."
    7
    We
finished picking our jury shortly after seven.
    "Ten
o'clock sharp, ladies and gentlemen," Moffett said, dismissing the twelve
we had selected, along with two alternates.
    "Tell
you what I'm gonna do with regard to the boy," he announced to Robelon and
me after the courtroom was cleared of the group. "I'll tell Ms. Taggart to
have Dulles produced in my chambers after school tomorrow. Miss Cooper can try
to talk to him and that other lawyer, what's his name?"
    "Hoyt.
Graham Hoyt."
    "Yeah.
He can sit in on it, too, on the boy's behalf. I'll hang around to iron out any
problems that come up. How's that sound?"
    I
couldn't concentrate on the conversation. My mind was spinning, wondering
whether the child was in any actual danger, where the foster mother might have
taken him, how Nancy Taggart would respond when I told her about the call from
the school, and why everyone in this case-except the victim-seemed to have his
or her own agenda.
    Robelon
spewed out some form of objection and tried to make up for lack of case law to
support his position by the sheer volume of his rhetoric.
    "Alexandra,"
Moffett said, "I'm talking to