Free Hostile Witness by Rebecca Forster Page B

The door to chambers opened. Her honor, Judge Judith Davenport, was announced.  Everyone stood. The court was called to order.  There was a millisecond of silence before Hannah Sheraton, still dressed in orange, was led into the room.
    This time she was buttoned up to the chin.
     

8
     
    Hannah looked exactly as Josie hoped she would: stunned, vulnerable and innocent. That was good. Fear could be very useful when your client was arrogant, disturbed and young.
    Her hands were cuffed making it impossible for her to twirl her hair. The space reserved for the accused was too wide for her to touch a wall.  Her hands rose and fell in frustration; she connected with nothing. Panic showed in the way she licked her lips, the way her eyes searched for, and found, her mother.
    Josie glanced at Rudy Klein in time to see a shadow of regret pass over his face. Their eyes locked. He was younger than she, but not by much. He had cut his prosecutorial teeth on the Kristin Davis case as a pinch hitter and Rudy had given Josie a good run. Today he was a surprise, a challenge. She wished the prosecutor had been a stranger.
    Josie looked away. Her palms were moist, her heartbeat noticeable. It had been too long since she’d been responsible for someone’s whole life. She was afraid. But there was no turning back now so Josie faced the bench. It was time to play.
    “Good morning. Call the case of the People v. Hannah Sheraton.”  Judge Davenport planted her elbows on the desk, clasped her hands and gave them permission to touch gloves. “Counsels?”
    Rudy Klein and Josie Baylor-Bates identified themselves.  Davenport gave the nod to Josie who waived the reading of the complaint. Everyone knew why they were there.  Davenport swiveled toward Hannah. All eyes followed.
    “How do you plead?”
    “Not guilty.”
    Hannah looked past Josie to Linda and something passed between mother and daughter. Assurances. Strength. Commitment. Whatever it was, Hannah was overwhelmed by it. She swayed slightly, closed her eyes briefly, and then looked at Josie. She gave Hannah an encouraging nod, knowing whatever she did could never match what a mother had to offer.
    Davenport was on to business.
    “So recorded. If there are no objections, I’ll set a date for a preliminary hearing eight days from today. That will be on. . .”
    “Your Honor,” Rudy interrupted, “the prosecution will be proceeding directly to the grand jury for indictment.”
    Stoned faced, Josie kept her surprise to herself. A grand jury indictment meant that Hannah could be bound over for trial without her defense attorney being privy to the prosecution’s case. Not a good thing.
    “When is the grand jury scheduled to meet, Mr. Klein?”
    “In three days, Judge,” Rudy answered. “We’re already scheduled.”
    “Your Honor, I’d like for the D.A. to present any exculpatory evidence to the grand jury and save the defense, this court, and the taxpayers time and money,” Josie argued.
    “If there were any evidence to exonerate Ms. Sheraton we wouldn’t be here.”
    Rudy smiled brilliantly. Josie ignored him. She’d seen his act before: handsome and boyish, nice suit, charm the pants off everyone within spitting distance.  An ex-actor who decided being a lawyer was better than playing one, Rudy Klein had a perfect stage presence, a prosecutor’s conviction, and a good mind to boot.
    “Very well, then. Notify my clerk immediately if the grand jury indicts. Do either of you have any other business?”
    Josie was about to speak when Davenport furrowed her brow and directed her peevishness in the general direction of Josie’s camp.
    “Bailiff, what is that noise?”
    All eyes went to Josie and, not finding the answer to that question, segued toward Hannah.  She had closed in on the wood and glass partition, hungry to make contact with something. Her knuckles drummed and knocked against the wood. Her wide lips parted as if she were blowing on a candle as she breathed