by Andrew Grey
THE EARLY part of Wednesday was like any other day watching over the judge: completely, mind-numbingly boring. While he held court sessions, Pierre paid close attention without seeming to. He didn’t want to tip his hand, but in the afternoon, when motions regarding evidence were the topic of the day, Judge Crawford made a number of rulings, and one of them caught Pierre’s interest. It might have been a close call, turning on a point of law, but the judge ruled a key piece of prosecution evidence inadmissible. Pierre made a mental note to have the case researched to check on the background, especially when he saw the complete surprise on the part of the prosecuting attorneys. He’d been to court enough times to know that while anything could happen, it was rare for them to be that shocked by any ruling.
Finally court was adjourned, and Pierre followed the judge back to his chambers.
“Walk me out. I’ll work at home for the rest of the day,” the judge barked as he took off his robe. Overlapping voices drifted in from the office area where Jordan worked. Once the judge had changed, Pierre took him out through the back hall and then down the stairs to the first-floor security station. He departed with him and waited until the judge was in his car with one of his private security officers before watching him go.
By the time Pierre returned, the office was quiet. Jordan seemed overwhelmed and frazzled.
“That was a shit-storm of epic proportions. They wanted to see the judge privately.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Pierre handed Jordan a page with the case details on it. “He shocked them all and then got the hell out of dodge.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Just provide me the details and let me look into it. I don’t want you in the line of fire.” Pierre waited for Jordan’s acceptance, and then Jordan pointed to an envelope on the side of the desk.
“I think that might be another letter. I didn’t open it or touch it any more than I had to in case you could get some evidence from the envelope.”
Pierre called in to the sheriff, told him about another letter, and then pulled a pair of gloves from his bag before carefully opening the envelope and placing it in an evidence bag. He read it quickly. “‘You may think you can get away with this, but no one is above the law. Not even you!’ Short and to the point.” This one more than any of the others clearly pointed to the judge’s extracurricular activities. “There’s no return address, but it was mailed from Harrisburg. The others were mailed from Camp Hill and Lancaster. Whoever is doing this is smart enough to go afield to mail their threatening letters.”
Jordan nodded. “I need to call the judge to let him know we’ve received another one. That’s what I’ve done in the past.”
“Go ahead.” Pierre added the letter to evidence, sealed it up, and noted details on the outside.
“Judge Crawford, this is Jordan. We received another letter. … Yes, the police have it. I gave it to Pierre, and he’s already informed the sheriff. … Just like the others. No return address.” Fear grew in Jordan’s eyes, and then he handed Pierre the phone.
“When in the hell are you going to get this guy?” Judge Crawford barked.
“There isn’t much to go on. I spoke with the sheriff and we’re going to send this one for DNA testing, but that’s going to take some time unless we get damn lucky. I’m hoping our letter writer licks their own envelopes.”
“You tell me whoever I need to call to put pressure on.” Crawford was clearly rattled, and Pierre was glad to hear it. Within a few days, the judge had morphed from victim to suspect, and Pierre very much wanted to catch the letter writer to find out what they knew or thought they knew.
“I will, Your Honor. Let me tell the sheriff he has your backing in case there’s any red tape.” Pierre knew there was little a county judge could do to hurry up the state crime lab, but he found it poetic that Judge Crawford might just help move things in the direction of someone who would be able to point him to more evidence of what the judge was up to.
“Thank you.” Crawford hung up abruptly, and Pierre called the sheriff back again to explain what the judge had offered.
“Anything he can do to move things along is helpful. The state crime lab is backed up for weeks, and it could take even longer before we hear anything. Threatening letters aren’t a priority. Hell, it’s hard for murder and arson investigations to get priority,” Sheriff Hunter said with his usual gruffness. “Have you come up with anything further?”
Pierre knew he should tell the sheriff about his suspicions, but Jordan sat right near him and they still had no proof. “No. I only look after him while he’s here. There have been no attacks or incursions here at the courthouse. Maybe whoever is sending the notes is smart enough to know that they can’t get to him here.”
“That’s possible, but they’re angry and probably hurting. Look into all of the cases the judge presided over and see if there was anyone who later died. Maybe we’re dealing with a grieving relative. This doesn’t sound like it’s money-related, but heart-related.” The sheriff could be demanding and impatient, but he had good instincts, which was part of what made him good at his job.
“I’ll do that.”
“Good. There is someone out there with a very personal ax to grind with the judge, and we need to find them.” He hung up, and Pierre put his phone back in his pocket.
“How long can you stay?” Pierre asked Jordan. “I need to know the names of the people who passed through the judge’s court in, say, the last few years. God, I hope we don’t need to go back farther.” He also hoped this wasn’t going to have to be something they pulled together by hand.
“I think I can get that for you. I log all the cases for the judge, so….” Jordan began typing, and Pierre sat in the chair next to him, watching as Jordan’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I have a private database that I use, but I can run a query and then put it into a spreadsheet.” Jordan grinned as the screen displayed the spreadsheet. Then the printer whirred, and soon Jordan handed him six sheets of paper.
“That’s quite a bit.”
“Yes. But I put them in reverse chronological order, so the newest ones are first, and I went back three years. This column explains who prevailed in the case, if that helps you. It has plaintiffs and defendants, along with their pertinent details.” Jordan grinned. “Aren’t you glad I keep such good records? It took me a while to convert the system used by my predecessor to the database, so if we need to go back farther, then it’s going to be a lot of work because I haven’t had a chance to go that far into the archives.”
“Is this what you were working on when you found the file?” Pierre asked quietly.
“Yes. I was trying to convert some of the older records so they would be searchable.” Jordan pulled his fingers away from the keyboard. “Basic information is kept about every case because the law builds on itself. But Judge Crawford is always asking me to pull pieces of information for him about cases and the history of what we’ve done, particularly around election time so he can have statistics on the work he does to put in his reelection literature that nobody reads. I figured a database kept up to date would be easier than trying to gather the information whenever he asks for something. A little work every day versus a huge job all at once.”
Pierre shook his head. “You know, you’re amazing.” He looked over the papers and folded them once, then placed them in his bag. “I will need to get the department to help me review all of this.”
“I expected as much. Treat it the way you would sensitive information. All my databases are on a secure server and access-protected, so even if someone gets in, without the password, the file is garbage. I keep backup data in a secure place that the judge knows about and can access if I’m not available. So it’s all good.” Jordan talked faster and faster. “Is there anything else you think you need?”
“No.” Pierre grinned. “I need to get to the station and see what kind of help I can get to work on this.” He checked his watch. “I’ll meet you at your
condo in an hour.”
“Okay. But call if you get hung up.” Jordan was so excited, Pierre could read it in the flush of his cheeks. “I hope you don’t, though. Jeremiah has been talking about going to dinner with you all week.” Jordan resumed his typing and then locked his computer. “I’m going to head out.” He grabbed his bag, made sure the judge’s door was locked, and checked his computer. He followed Pierre out of the office and locked the door behind him. “I’ll see you soon.” Jordan hurried away toward the front while Pierre used the back stairs. He went out the rear exit to where he’d parked behind the courthouse, then hurried down the block to the station in the old jail.
Hunter had said he was going to be there, so Pierre went to the room he used as an office when he was there and knocked on the door. “Come in.”
“Boss, I got the case information we needed, but there’s a lot here.” He handed the information to Sheriff Hunter, who looked it over, sitting back in his chair, the poor thing squeaking under his weight.
“Good. I can ask some of the guys to help run this down.”
“I also have the letter we got today. I’ll log that into evidence before I leave.”
“I suspect a guy like Crawford would have made quite a few enemies. Judges tend to do so, but most people feel that they’re fair and impartial. We have very few problems with their security. Things like this have happened before, but this feels different.” Hunter pulled on a pair of gloves and read the note. “Shit. What did Crawford do to piss this guy off?”
Pierre kept his mouth shut, but the urge to explain the rest of what he’d found was strong. He’d never kept secrets from his boss before, especially when they related directly to a case. “We’ll dig into the files. There has to be a connection.” And if he found evidence of Judge Crawford on the take or beholden to someone, then he could alert the department, and he could do it in such a way that Jordan wasn’t involved.
“Good. I’ll have all the guys report to you on this so you can make sure all the background is covered. You’re the lead on this case, so make sure it’s wrapped up quickly. I want you back on your regular duties as soon as possible.”
“I’ll do my best.” Pierre left the office and closed the door, doing a silent fist pump. He’d ask Jordan for an electronic copy of the list in the morning so he could keep track of everything. At least he had something to go on. That in itself was a positive development. And the sheriff hadn’t asked him to get started on it tonight, which was an additional win.
After logging his evidence, Pierre signed out and hurried from the station to head home, where he showered and changed out of his uniform before going to Jordan’s. He parked in the drive outside the closed beige overhead garage door and half jogged up to the door, instantly regretting it as sweat broke out on his back.
Jordan answered the doorbell, with Jeremiah peering out from behind his legs. When Jordan opened the door, Jeremiah stayed hidden as Pierre came inside.
“I take it he’s having a shy day?”
“It started an hour ago.” Jordan lifted Jeremiah up, and Jeremiah hid his head on Jordan’s neck. “You’ve been talking about seeing Mr. Pierre all week. Now you’re going to be shy?” He patted Jeremiah’s back, and Pierre held out his hands. Jordan passed the boy over, and Pierre soothed him.
“It’s all right. I know how it feels to be excited and then afraid at the same time. It happens to me too.” Pierre rocked back and forth the way he’d seen Jordan do, and it wasn’t long before Jeremiah lifted his head. “Do you know what we’re going to do now?”
Jeremiah shook his head.
“You and Daddy are going to get in my car, and we’re going down to the police station so you can have your ride, like I promised.” Pierre wasn’t going to let anything get in the way this time.
“Yay!” Jeremiah squirmed to get down and ran around the room in a display of unbridled energy.
“I guess shy is over,” Pierre snickered.
“Go put your shoes on and we’ll get ready to go. After your ride, we’re going to eat dinner.” Jordan followed after Jeremiah as he raced to his room.
Pierre watched Jordan as he moved, constantly blown away by him. He was so patient and gentle. So much of Pierre’s life was harsh and rigid that his fascination with Jordan took him a little by surprise. Up until meeting Jordan, his fantasy men had always been large, muscular guys with six-packs and big arms. But that had changed, and now his fantasies revolved around a smaller man with grace and an air of gentleness.
“What’s got you so far away?” Jordan asked when he returned with his sneakers and sat on the edge of the sofa to put them on.
“Just thinking about stuff.” Pierre wasn’t the blushing kind of guy, and thankfully his olive-toned skin hid most of it, but that didn’t mean the warmth in his cheeks wasn’t there.
Jordan dropped his foot and didn’t lift the other one. “What were you thinking about?” His voice had dropped lower, becoming almost sultry.
“Jesus…,” Pierre muttered, glancing toward the bedrooms, expecting Jeremiah to come racing out at any second.
“I thought so.” Jordan put on his second shoe, looking up at him slyly. “I think about you a lot too.” He bit his lower lip, and Pierre gently stroked his slightly stubbly cheek.
“Daddy!” Jeremiah hurried out in socked feet, carrying his shoes. He plopped down on the floor to put his shoes on, tying them himself. “Can we go now?”
“We need to move your booster seat from the car and then we’ll be ready.” Jordan stood, his gaze boring into Pierre, adding more heat to the fire banked inside him. Damn, it had been a long time since he’d been the object of this much desire. It was so nice to be wanted, but he and Jordan had a lot to talk about before anything could happen.
Pierre suddenly remembered that talk could be vastly overrated.
“Let’s go.” Pierre needed an escape, and he took Jeremiah’s hand in order to get one. He led him down the stairs and out to the garage.
“That’s my seat,” Jeremiah said when Pierre opened the back door and leaned in to pull out the booster.
“Can you hold that for me?” He handed it to Jeremiah and made sure the belts retracted before closing the door. “Let’s put that in my car and we can go.”
“Will I need it in the police car?” Jeremiah asked as they walked out of the garage.
“I’m afraid so. We want to keep you safe, even in a police car.” After all, they weren’t intended for children.
Jordan joined them, locking up the house as Pierre got Jeremiah’s seat buckled in. Jeremiah climbed in and sat down, his feet jittering because he was so excited.
“Where are we going?”
“To the main sheriff’s office. I can check out a car there for an hour. I usually work out of the old jail, but the garage is at the main station.” Pierre got inside and pulled out of the drive, heading toward the northeast section of town.
The sheriff’s station was connected to the main jail on the edge of town, which was a low brown brick building but completely utilitarian, with no redeeming design features whatsoever. Pierre sometimes wondered if the original building designers in the seventies had tried to make the place depressing on purpose.
“Is this where you work?” Jeremiah asked ominously. “Are there bad people in there?”
“Yes. That’s the jail, and the other building there is where I work.” Pierre used his card to scan through to the restricted parking area and pulled into a spot, lowering the windows. “Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.” He hurried inside and spoke to Briggs, the officer in charge of the motor pool. He explained what he needed and was assigned a car for an hour. When he returned, Jordan and Jeremiah stood next to his car, with Jeremiah holding his booster seat in front of him, clearly ready for his ride.
The grin on Jordan’s lips and the way the booster seat rocked back and forth told Pierre all he needed to know. Jeremiah was too excited to stand still, jumping back and forth from foot to foot.
“Come on, sport. We’re over here.”
Jeremiah raced across the otherwise empty parking area, and Pierre took his hand to lead him to the car he’d been assigned. Pierre put the booster on the back seat and groaned. Of course, there were no seat belts. He never thought about it, but they were removed so suspects couldn’t use them as weapons.
He placed the booster on the floor. “You sit here, and you need to sit back and not stand up or move. Okay?” He extracted the promise, then shut the door and opened the passenger door for Jordan.
“You guys don’t wear seat belts?” Jordan asked as he got in.
“Not usually. If we need to get out quickly, we don’t want to have to worry about getting them undone.” Pierre walked to the driver’s side of the car and got in.
“What is all that?” Jeremiah asked, pointing to the mount between the seats.
“That’s where I put my computer when I’m in the car, and that is the radio.” Pierre pointed. “This is where I can turn on the lights, and this is the switch for the siren.” He demonstrated each of them, to Jeremiah’s delight. When Pierre turned on the siren, Jeremiah held his ears at first and then mimicked the sound. It was so cute. Pierre turned off the siren and lights, and pulled out onto the quiet street.
“Is this where the bad guys sit?” Jeremiah asked, looking around.
“Yes. That’s why the cage is there, to protect me and the other officers from the bad guys. They also can’t open the doors. We have to do it from the outside, so you need to be good, mister, or you’ll be stuck in there.” Pierre winked at Jeremiah in the mirror, and he giggled.
Pierre made a turn and took them out into the country, where he turned on the siren and lights again, speeding up a little down a largely empty road.
“This is so cool. I can’t wait to tell Scott that I got to ride back here and I wasn’t naughty. He’s a doody head.”
“You know we don’t talk that way. But you can tell the other kids,” Jordan said.
Pierre pulled to a stop, turned around, switched off the lights and siren, and drove back toward the station. There really wasn’t all that much that was special anymore, and now it was just a ride in the car.
