ONE
"All rise." The bailiffs voice rang clear through the high ceilings of the courtroom and bounced off the wood paneling. "The federal district court of the great State of Texas is in session. The Honorable Judge Adele Weston presiding."
Adele hesitated a fraction of a second before entering the courtroom through the open doorway of the judge's chamber. A ripple of disquiet cascaded through her limbs at the barely perceptible sound of crinkling paper. The parole hearing notice she'd stuffed into the pocket of her judge's robe weighed her down. She smoothed a hand over her black robe and took a breath. The scent of wood polish teased the air. She rolled her shoulders, putting the past out of her mind. At least for now.
She needed to be fully present to do her job.
After two years of sitting on the federal district court bench in her home state, she still battled nerves every time she entered the courtroom. But she couldn't predict when something, like the piece of mail she'd opened earlier, might trigger the panic lurking at the edges of her consciousness.
Gathering her bravado, she let out her breath, squared her shoulders and strode forward.
You can do this. The mantra played on repeat through her brain. You are strong.
She smiled and nodded to Harry Calvin, the court bailiff, as she passed him. Harry's stoic expression didn't crack. The older officer took his job as court guard seriously, and his presence steadied her nerves. She was safe here within the domain of the courthouse.
Her judicial assistant, Jordan Umi, fresh out of college and eager to please, gave her a nod as he took his seat off to the left side of the bench. The court reporter, Rachel Brown, sat in front of the bench.
Taking comfort in the familiar tableau, Adele stepped up to the dais, her gaze sweeping over the sea of faces staring at her.
Up front was the federal prosecutor and his two clerks sitting at the table to the left, while on the right was the criminal defense attorney, her two clerks and the defendant, Tomas Garcia.
The gallery teemed with potential jurors and the US marshal detail assigned to guard and keep track of the man whose fate would be in the hands of twelve men and women.
Several months ago, the US Marshals Service managed to bring down the head of a vicious drug cartel operating in Texas. Today's proceedings started the process of giving Mr. Garcia his day in court.
"You may be seated." Adele enunciated each syllable in a clear voice, thankful her earlier tension had dissipated. She took her own seat and scooted the chair forward, her knee bumping up against something hard underneath the desk. Aware of all the gazes intently staring at her, she ignored the stinging sensation and silently lamented the bruise no doubt already forming. She made a mental note to have maintenance inspect the bench after the session. The courthouse and its furnishings were old and in need of updating. Apparently, the bench was falling apart. Adjusting the microphone, her gaze once again brushed over the potential jurors. Men and women of varying ages and ethnicities stared back at her with expressions ranging from boredom to curiosity.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Adele intoned with slow and deliberate intention. "Thank you all for doing your civic duty and responding to your jury summons. This is a sacred responsibility of participation, and we couldn't function in our system without the assistance of people like yourselves."
She shifted in her seat, her knee hitting the hard object and causing her to jerk away from the offending article, the sound of ripping fabric echoing in her ears. Irritation swamped her. "Excuse me a moment."
She pushed the chair back from the bench and dipped her head to look underneath. Within the dark cavernous space, blinking lights assaulted her. She could make out the shape of something square with sharp edges attached to the side of the bench. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing.
An explosive device?
Her breath froze in her lungs.
Please, God, no!
She jumped out of her seat. A murmur of confusion rippled through the room. She needed to get everyone out of the courtroom. Her heart hammered against her ribs and her blood pounded in her veins.
Not wanting to start a panicked riot, she turned to Harry and said as calmly as she could in a low voice, "We need to evacuate. Now."
She gestured to the space beneath the bench.
Harry frowned and ducked his head to see what she pointed at. His stoic demeanor faltered. He moved swiftly to the wall behind the bench and pulled the fire alarm. The shrill sound filled the air and bounced off the paneling. So much for not causing a panic.
Adele waved her arms and urged, "Go. Go!"
The US marshals grabbed their charge and swiftly ushered him out. The potential selection of jurors fled through the back doors behind the marshals. The lawyers and their clerks pushed after them.
Harry bound up the steps, grabbing her by the arm. The feel of his hand wrapped around her biceps shuddered through her.
"But we have to make sure everyone gets to safety," she protested as he propelled her away from the bench, her head swiveling to find Jordan. The young man hurried after them.
Just as the bailiff tugged her through the doorway into the judge's chamber, the bomb attached to the underside of the bench exploded.
Adele could only gasp as the force of the blast sent her stumbling forward, like a hard shove from behind. The deafening noise rang in her ears. Another set of explosions took her to the ground with jarring impact. She covered her head with her hands as debris rained down like blows.
For a blinding moment, she was transported back to a dark alley and the foul stench of sweat and blood filling her senses. The carpeted floor absorbed her scream.
