Chapter 11 - The District Courtroom
The courtroom on the third floor of the municipal building had high arched windows that let in a cold gray light, casting long shadows across the oak railing. The air smelled of floor wax and damp wool coats from the people sitting on the wooden benches waiting for custody dockets to begin.
Judge Thomas sat behind a high mahogany bench, his robe slightly frayed at the cuffs, turning the pages of a yellow legal pad with a yellow pencil. He looked over his half-moon glasses at Julian Vance, then down at the stack of certified affidavits sitting on the clerk's desk.
"Mr. Vance, your petition alleges a forcible confinement lasting twenty-one days within an accessory structure on the defendant's residential property," Judge Thomas said, his voice dry and devoid of theatricality. "That is a very serious criminal allegation to introduce through a civil motion for temporary custody."
"It's not an allegation, Your Honor," Vance said, stepping forward to lay Clara’s signed statement and the receipt from the hardware store beside the brass key in an evidence tray. "We have the physical key, the store security stills showing the defendant purchasing the padlock twelve hours before the victim was reported missing, and sworn testimony from a municipal witness who observed the defendant turning the key from the outside."
Before the judge could respond, the heavy double doors at the back of the courtroom swung open with a bang that made several people jump.
David walked down the center aisle alone. He wasn't wearing his usual dark button-down shirt; he had on a tailored charcoal wool overcoat, his hair neatly combed, his expression one of pained, reasonable exhaustion. He looked less like a man cornered and more like a grieving father forced to rescue his misguided family from a public embarrassment.
"Your Honor," David said, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet room as he stopped five feet behind our table. "I apologize for the interruption, but my wife has been suffering from a severe acute depressive episode. Her family doctor—"
"Mr. Hayes," Judge Thomas said, raising a single hand. "You are not a party to this motion yet, and you have not been recognized by the bench. Sit down in the gallery or leave the room."
David didn't sit. He stopped by the railing, his eyes fixing on me with that cold, steady intensity that had governed every room we'd shared for ten years. "Sarah," he said softly, loud enough for the court reporter to catch on the record. "Just come home. You don't need to put Maya through this public circus. Everyone knows you weren't well."
Maya stiffened beside me, her small hand reaching out to grab the hem of my trousers. I didn't look back at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the judge's pencil as it stopped moving across the yellow pad.
"Mr. Vance," Judge Thomas said, ignoring David entirely. "Where is the child?"
"She is in the witness room down the hall with a court-appointed advocate, Your Honor," Vance replied. "She was present at the scene when the door was opened."
"I want her brought in," the judge said. "Not to testify on the record, but I want to speak with her in chambers with the guardian ad litem present."
David took a step closer to the gate, his hand resting on the brass latch. "She doesn't need to be interrogated by strangers, Judge. She's a child. This woman—" he pointed a steady finger toward me "—has dragged her through motels for thirty-six hours without a change of clothes."
"Mr. Hayes," the judge said, his voice dropping into a register that made the bailiff shift his weight near the door. "One more interruption and I will have you removed by the county sheriff. This court is currently in session."
David lowered his hand, his jaw tightening so hard I could see the muscle jump beneath his skin just like it had beside the pool house door. He didn't look away from me, though; his gaze was heavy, calculating, and entirely devoid of any warmth.
"Your Honor," Vance said smoothly. "We ask for an immediate temporary restraining order barring Mr. Hayes from coming within five hundred yards of my client or the child, pending the criminal inquiry being opened by the state police."
May you like
"Granted," Judge Thomas said, picking up his stamp and bringing it down with a heavy thud on the bottom of the petition. "Order entered. Bailiff, escort Mr. Hayes to the back of the gallery. Mr. Vance, bring the child into chambers."
###
