The Bad Judgment Series: The Complete Series (7 page)

W
alker
and I went to Proctor an hour early, because we were both too restless to wait. He threw the keys to the young guard, again. “What’s your name?” Walker asked.

“Toby.”

I’d worked here for two years and I never knew his name was Toby.

“Toby, we’ve got appointments this afternoon. Take care of my baby. And have some fun with her — take her for a little drive.”

Toby gave Walker a huge grin. “Yes, sir. Just around the block, so no worries.”

“You driving my car is definitely the least of my worries, Toby,” Walker said. “See you later.”

We stopped at my office on our way to David’s; I wanted to grab another notebook and some flash drives. Tammy was sitting at her desk. She looked up at me and just about fell over dead.

“Nicole!” she said.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, urgently.

She looked at me for a beat, confused. “Nothing, honey! You look amazing, that’s all!” She stood up and inspected my dress. It was lavender, a color I’d never worn before. It hugged me in all the right places; I’d put my new blazer over it, which was also fitted, but which made me look appropriate. “You look just beautiful, hon,” she said. She turned and looked at Walker. “You don’t look that bad, either,” she said, appraisingly raising her eyebrow.

“Tammy,” I said, admonishing her.

“Just saying,” she said. “Are you all set for the hearing this afternoon?”

“Yes. We reviewed files today. Now, we just have to wait and see what the judge is going to do,” I said. I went into my office and took what I needed, and came back out to say ‘goodbye.’

“Go get ‘em,” she said, looking up from her computer. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Walker. Good luck today.”

We caused a bit of a stir as we went down the hall. Some of the other associates did double takes when they saw me; Mandy stood and stared at me for a full second before she said ‘hello,’ like she was stunned.

And then Alexa stuck her head out of her office. “Good luck this afternoon,” she called to us, giving us a huge fake smile. “We’re rooting for you.” She did a double take when my outfit registered with her, and came out into the hallway and stopped us.

“This is nice,” she said, fingering the lapel of my jacket. “Is it from Jardine?”

“Yep,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

“Sale rack?” she asked.

I immediately felt deflated. “Yep,” I said, noticeably less perky.

“Nicole’s too smart to pay full price,” Walker said, leaning over conspiratorially. “But she still looks wicked hot. So it’s like a two-fer.”

Alexa smiled fakely at him. “Yes,” she said, “a real two-fer. Good luck this afternoon.” She clicked angrily back into her office.

I looked at Walker out of the corner of my eye. “Thanks,” I said, quietly, as we continued down the hall.

“My pleasure,” he said, and I noticed he had a smile on his face. At least I was able to distract him before the hearing. That was something.

Linda, David Proctor’s evil secretary, was nowhere in sight when we got to his office. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure if we should wait or knock, but Walker went right in, even though David was on the phone.

“Hey,” Walker said. David said something quickly and then hung up.

“You don’t knock?” he asked.

“When I’m paying fees as exorbitant as yours, I feel like social conventions aren’t really necessary,” Walker said and sat down.

“Hi, Nicole,” David said. He looked briefly at my dress, my hair and makeup, but said nothing. “Did you have a chance to look at those files I uploaded?”

“Yes,” I said. “I think the records indicate clearly that Walker has no reason to hide money…”

David held up his hand. “Good. We’ll talk about it later. I want you to draft an opinion piece, and find cases that support your position,” he said and I nodded.

“So,” he said, turning to Walker, “this is the hearing we need to worry about.” He got up and paced back and forth in his office. Walker sat there, in a gorgeous pinstriped suit, his hair still slightly damp from the quick shower he’d taken. He smelled absolutely divine — I’d tried very hard not to notice it on the ride over.

“I already know that, David,” he said. “For six-hundred-dollars an hour, please tell me something I don’t know.”

David sighed and paced some more. “You already know everything,” he said, “and that’s because I’m worth the small fortune you’re paying me.”

He looked up at Walker. “You’re going to enter a plea of not guilty on all counts. The government is going to ask that you be held. They’re going to claim that because of the nature of the charges, and your personal fortune, that you’re a flight risk. Obviously, that’s what we want to avoid. It won’t help our trial prep, but worse than that, it will look bad to the public.”

“What are the chances the judge will give him home detention?” I asked.

“It’s fifty-fifty,” David said. “Judge Alvarez is a very cautious man. His judgments tend to be conservative. So if the government can make a compelling argument for it, we could be in trouble.” He looked at Walker. “Not that the federal penitentiary is that bad. It’s just not your house.”

David paced by Walker and slapped him on the back. “It’ll be all right,” David said.

“I doubt it,” Walker said. “It hasn’t been all right since it’s started. And can you keep your hands off my suit? You have bagel dust on them,” he said, eyeing the empty wrapper on David’s desk.

“Sure,” David said, from behind the last bite of bagel he’d just popped into his mouth. “No problem.” He slapped his hands together to clean them off and shrugged his suit coat on. “Let’s do this.”

I grabbed my laptop and followed them down the hall. Walker turned and looked at me, just once, and my heart clenched when our eyes connected.
Stay with me
, I thought. The idea of him being taken away in handcuffs in just a few short hours tore at me, even though that broke all the rules.

Stay with me.
I thought it anyway.

I gave him a grim smile and he smiled back, briefly, and winked at me. My smile turned real and I flushed with pleasure, deciding to look at the carpet for the rest of the way to the lobby, lest I give myself away. My secret-secret.
Good Lord,
I thought,
do not take my secret-secret away from me.

T
he press was there
in droves, of course.

David had been reviewing his notes and bobbing his knees up and down the whole drive over, but when we pulled up to the courthouse he organized everything very neatly (for him) and let out a big exhale. Walker put his thigh against mine, just for a second, and I closed my eyes. I gripped my laptop.
Please keep him safe, please keep him safe,
I thought stupidly, over and over, when in fact it was
my
job to keep him safe.

“This is an opportunity to look good,” David said to us, over his shoulder, as the driver opened the door.

“Doesn’t he know you always look good?” I whispered, and the grin Walker gave me made everything else shift to the background, at least for a moment. Then it was my turn out of the car. I stood up tall, painfully aware of how slumped and mousy I looked the last time we were here. I held my chin up and walked behind David. I was not making the same mistake twice. What felt like a thousand camera flashes went off and I forgot all about my pretty suit and my pretty hair. My stomach turned into a boulder. Walker got out of the car behind me and all of the reporters started shouting at him at once. He raised his hand at them in acknowledgement as federal marshals hustled us through the crowd. I would have breathed a sigh of relief once we got through the door, except that there was no relief in sight.

“There will be reporters in the courtroom today,” David said, going through security.

“Yep,” Walker said.

“I’m just trying to add value to your experience,” David said as we headed to the courtroom. Walker snorted and David ignored him, flipping through his file.

“Your ‘value’ is a fortune, whether or not I end up behind bars today or a few months from now,” Walker said, which we all knew was true.

David didn’t respond. Instead he turned to me. “Nicole, do you have the notes about the
Diaz
and
Lesley
cases?” He asked. I nodded. “Make sure you put them out on the table when we get in there. I’m going to need you to keep everything collated so you can find it for me when I need it. You’re officially second chair today. Norris wanted to come, but I thought leaving him at the office would put us all in a better mood. In any event, Nicole’s much more pleasant, wouldn't you agree, Walker?”

Walker snorted again and David ignored him again. “
She’s
definitely worth the money,” Walker said. “You, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.”

“I’ll keep you out of jail. Today,” David said. “After that, it’s anyone’s guess. But we’ll work on improving the odds.”

I was waiting for Walker to snort again, but he didn’t. Instead he was studying the hallway outside of Courtroom Four, looking at the various attorneys and clients and court workers. There were reporters, too, but they were all typing on their laptops and texting. That was the thing about court. Even though Walker was famous, and his case was a big deal, the people inside the court were worried about themselves. It was their day in court, too. My stomach twisted painfully. Walker and I briefly locked eyes and I turned away, palms starting to sweat. I forced myself to mentally recite the main points from the
Diaz
and
Lesley
cases, the two best cases we’d found to argue that Walker wasn’t a flight risk.
Walker's capital is invested in his business. He draws an income from his business. He does not have extraneous assets to live off of for an extended period of time. We have a sworn affidavit regarding his cash and securities; as riveting as they are, his wealth is not liquid. He is not in a position to run and hide away for years. In addition, he is pleading not guilty, vigorously opposing the charges against him. He wants to have his trial and clear his name.

He wants to have his trial and clear his name. We could do it — I felt sure that we could show that Blue Securities had a clean record and the irregularities the government was citing were not going to implicate Walker once explained — as long as we had the time. I just needed enough time to prove him fully innocent.

The bailiff opened the court door. We filed in silently. David looked like he was going to burst with energy; Walker looked tall, pale and resigned. My palms were still sweating and my breath was coming quickly, but it was good — it was as if all of a sudden, the adrenaline coursing through me had turned from poison to a magic potion, sharpening my senses and clearing my mind. Walker was in front of me and I wanted to touch him, squeeze his hand, something, to let him know that it was going to be all right. No matter what happened. But I couldn’t touch him; I couldn’t risk it. We sat in the row behind the tables as the other attorneys, plaintiffs and defendants came in. I caught sight of Marnie Edmonds’s carefully highlighted hair, pulled back into a low ponytail. She was sitting across the aisle again, wielding an enormous brown legal file.

This was probably the one place in the world where it was absolutely quiet. No one was chatting. Everyone was looking at papers or studying their hands. No one was talking or texting on their cell phone. I flipped through the bullet-points in my notebook, highlighting things that had been highlighted already five times. The court stenographer silently set up her computer while Judge Alvarez’s clerk organized files on his desk, placing a glass of water down precisely. I idly wondered how she could breathe outside in the ninety-degree heat with those pantyhose on, and immediately remembered that I had more pressing things to think about.

“We have a full docket this afternoon,” the clerk said, stepping over to her desk and grabbing a clipboard. “First is Sweeney, then Walker, then Ramsey. After that, Judge Alvarez will take a half-hour break. We should go pretty quickly through the rest of the docket after that.” There were some whispers and murmuring then, but they stopped as soon as she looked back up at us. “I will remind you that cell phones must be turned off, and members of the press, no internet activity or photography. The rest of you, if you need to get online, use the Court’s password: Justice4all. That’s the numeral four,” she said, and tension swirled through me. I bit my lip. I believed in what I did. I believed that the system worked, most of the time.

I just hoped I still believed it after this hearing.

“All rise,” boomed the bailiff, and in strode Judge Michael Alvarez, U.S. District Court Judge. He was a small man, thin and wiry, with peppery hair and no smile. He sat, and the bailiff told us we could, too. The procedure was as solemn as church, but I never had a stomachache from a mixture of fear and adrenaline in church before, on the rare occasions that Richie dragged me.

“What’ve we got?” Judge Alvarez asked the clerk.

“Sweeney. Entering a plea bargain,” she said, and so it began.

I watched Alvarez. He was efficient, to the point, and did not make small talk. I didn’t see him smile until Mr. Sweeney was finished hearing the deal he’d made with the government recited in front of everyone. “Mr. Sweeney, do you fully understand and accept the terms of your agreement with the government today? You understand that you’ll have a record for the rest of your life, one that can't be expunged.” Mr. Sweeney nodded, nervously. “And you still want to make the deal?”

“I do,” said Mr. Sweeney, who was likely avoiding a lengthy prison sentence.

“Then I now pronounce your plea bargain entered,” Judge Alvarez said, and smiled briefly, revealing a small set of even, snow-white teeth. Everyone chuckled, including me, because Judge Alvarez was now absolutely the last person on earth that I wanted to piss off. If I laughed at his small joke, maybe he’d let my client go.

If only it were that easy. I laughed anyway.

“Next, it’s United States v. Walker. Mr. Walker is being arraigned on RICO and related charges,” the clerk said, as Walker followed David and I up to the table. At least David knew which table to sit at. No one else told you. You had to know your shit when you went to court — like which table the Defendant was expected to sit at, and that you had to stand when the judge entered the room — otherwise you would look like the complete asshole that you probably were.