Chapter 5
The Hollow Creek courthouse still smelled like varnish and stale coffee. Nathan Rourke stood at the entrance, briefcase in one hand, case files in the other, and felt the weight of every pair of eyes in the building land on him like heat.
Three steps in, the whispers started.
“Is that Rourke?”
“Didn’t think he’d show his face here again.”
“I heard he’s defending both boys.”
At the security table, a uniformed bailiff scanned his bag and smirked. “Back to stir the pot, huh?”
“Just doing my job,” Nathan said.
The bailiff handed the briefcase back, then leaned in. “You know, no one’s been found guilty here in twenty years.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow. “So either the town’s full of saints… or the justice system’s asleep.”
The bailiff grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Nathan walked past the clerk’s desk and into the marble hallway, where time had slowed but grudges hadn’t.
He reached the docket window. Behind the glass sat a secretary with horn-rimmed glasses and a nameplate that read Beatrice. She didn’t look up.
“I’m here to file for representation,” Nathan said.
“Name?”
“Nathan Rourke. Attorney.”
Now she looked up. “Oh. The Rourke.” Her voice was ice in summer.
Nathan gave her a tight smile. “I’d say it’s good to be back, but we both know it’s not.”
She tapped a few keys. “Which case?”
“Both. Elijah Moore and Jace Carter.”
Beatrice froze, then narrowed her eyes. “That’s… irregular.”
“Not illegal.”
“Some would say reckless.”
“Some would be wrong.”
She slid a folder toward him. “You'll need to submit a dual motion. They're being tried separately.”
“I figured. Same judge?”
“Judge Alton for Moore. Judge Reece for Carter.”
Nathan flinched. “Reece is still on the bench?”
“Retired. His son took over.”
“Of course he did.”
Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Want me to staple your forms, or are you planning to bleed all over them yourself?”
Nathan grinned. “I missed you, too.”
Courtroom B smelled faintly of mildew. Nathan slid into the back bench while the clerk finished her reading of the morning docket.
A lawyer in a cheap suit turned around. “Well, well. If it isn’t Hollow Creek’s fallen hero.”
“Still dressing like a clearance rack, Tommy?” Nathan replied.
Tommy Wexler smiled, wide and snake-like. “I heard you’re defending the poor boy and the rich one. Thought you’d at least pick a side.”
“I did. Truth’s side.”
Tommy chuckled. “Don’t say that too loud. It’s not popular around here.”
Nathan leaned back. “I’ll whisper it, then shout it later.”
The judge’s gavel cracked.
“First appearance for the defendant, Elijah Moore,” the clerk called out.
Nathan stood, buttoning his jacket. “Nathan Rourke, representing Elijah Moore.”
The courtroom murmured.
The DA, a thin woman named Shaw, raised an eyebrow. “Rourke? I wasn’t aware you were practicing again.”
“I’m not. Just couldn’t ignore the smell of something burning.”
Judge Alton peered over his glasses. “Is that your official statement, Mr. Rourke?”
“No, Your Honor. My official statement is this: My client deserves due process. I intend to see he gets it.”
Shaw frowned. “The state has evidence—”
“You have suspicion, not proof,” Nathan said. “And I’d like to request discovery. Full file. Photos. Witness statements.”
Judge Alton tapped the desk. “Motion granted. Discovery to be delivered within seventy-two hours.”
Shaw scowled. “Under protest.”
“Protest noted. Overruled.”
Nathan nodded and sat.
As he gathered his files, a voice whispered from behind.
“You’re wasting your time.”
Nathan didn’t turn around. “Good. I hate wasting other people’s.”
After the hearing, Nathan stepped out into the hall and made his way to Judge Reece’s chambers.
A receptionist blocked the door. “He’s in a meeting.”
“Tell him Nathan Rourke’s here.”
She blinked. “I’ll see if he’s available.”
Five minutes later, a young man in a tailored robe opened the door. He looked exactly like his father—cold, polished, and bored.
“Rourke,” he said. “Didn’t you leave here under a storm cloud?”
“Clouds clear. Eventually.”
“You’re filing on Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t do it.”
Reece laughed. “Everyone says that.”
Nathan stepped inside. “He’s a kid. No record. No motive. So far, no physical evidence except the fact that he smells like gas.”
“And that house burned to the ground.”
“I’ve seen coincidences before.”
Reece tilted his head. “You think this is coincidence?”
“I think it’s convenient. I think someone wants him out of the way.”
Reece narrowed his eyes. “That sounds dangerously close to conspiracy talk.”
Nathan leaned on the desk. “If I find out your bench is as bent as your father’s, I won’t just talk.”
Reece smiled. “You’re not in the city anymore.”
“Good,” Nathan said. “Because I never got to finish what I started last time.”
Outside, the wind had picked up. Leaves danced across the courthouse steps.
Marlene was waiting near his car, arms crossed.
“How’d it go?”
“I’ve got both cases,” Nathan said. “Official now.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s smart?”
“No.”
She smiled a little. “Good. Smart doesn’t get things done here.”
Nathan opened the car door, then paused. “You ever hear of a Judge Reece?”
“Old or new?”
“Both.”
She looked down. “My dad hated them. Said they treated the law like a weapon, not a shield.”
“Yeah,” Nathan said. “Sounds about right.”
He slid behind the wheel, tossed his briefcase in the back, and started the engine.
Behind them, someone watched from the trees.
Nathan didn’t see it.
But Marlene did.
And she didn’t say a word.
