Dirty Blonde

after a second, the door buzzed loudly and she yanked it open. She climbed the dark marble steps and pressed through the glass doors at the top as if she owned the courthouse. The judges’ entrance was to the far right, and the public entrance was fifty feet across the lobby on the far left, manned by two marshals, hanging out by the metal detectors. Cate recognized one and gave him an official wave.

“Hi, Tony,” she called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous lobby, her heels clacking across the granite floor as she hustled to the judges’ entrance. “I’m moving out tonight.”

“Okay, Judge.” Tony tipped his neat, dark head, and Cate knew he didn’t have the heart to embarrass her by stopping her, and she owed him forever for it. She fished out her white passcard on the fly, passed it over the wall-mounted magnetic sensor, then bustled without breaking stride toward the walnut doors that led to the judges’ elevators on the right. She reached the doors without being tackled, then yanked the door open, only to find the elevator doors opening onto a bundled-up Val, her eyes drawn with strain.

“Judge,” Val said, startled, stepping off the elevator, and Cate wrapped her arms around her secretary, in her nubby wool coat.

“You okay?”

“I have to go, I’m so sorry. I got a call from my daughter, and the baby has the croup. She said he can’t catch his breath, like a spasm. She has to take him to the emergency room and she needs me to stay with Tiffany.”

“My God. Go. You have a ride?”

“Jerome’s a block away. He just called.”

“Give him my love. You need help?”

“No, thanks.” Val gave her another, final hug. “You’re all packed upstairs, except your desk, and the clerks went home.”

“Thanks.”

“Sorry, Judge.” Val hurried to the doors, buttoning her coat. “See you.”

“Good luck,” Cate called after her, hitting the UP button. The elevator cab opened again, and she stepped inside, inserted her passcard, and watched the doors close on her, thinking about what she’d find in her chambers.

There, Cate surveyed the reception room, trying to maintain control of her emotions. Boxes of files covered the rug, wedged between the wing chairs and coffee table. She let the door close behind her, then went over to one of the open boxes and thumbed through the accordion jackets, reading the case captions. U.S. v. Alvarez, U.S. v. Bustagni, U.S. v. Chollo. It was her docket, on the way out. Cate felt her anger rising.

She went to the next file box and thumbed through the pleadings. More of the same. There had to be at least twelve boxes blocking the way. She turned, looked over the boxes, and walked to the threshold of her office. The large room sat perfectly quiet and seemed bigger, now that it had been emptied. The expanse of glass windows formed a black mirror, with the glittering lights of the city and the Ben Franklin Bridge ghosted darkly beyond. Her few framed diplomas had been taken down; the law books she’d shelved had vanished. Her long work table had been wiped clean, as had all the chairs she’d used to store her case notes. Boxes lay everywhere, closed and labeled in Val’s careful hand, in Magic Marker. CIRCUIT CONFERENCE. SPEECHES. JUDICIAL CODE.

Cate picked her way through the boxes to her desk, and walked around it, sliding out of her heavy coat and setting it on the top, along with her purse and plastic shopping bag. The bag held the celebrity gun; she hadn’t risked leaving it in the car. She sat down in her desk chair and scanned her office, assessing it with new eyes. The truth was, except for the sealed boxes, the place didn’t look all that much different. She felt her jaw clench in anger, now at herself. So many things I’d do different. So many ways I went wrong.

“Gimme a second chance,” she said aloud, then realized something. Nobody was going to give her a second chance, least of all Sherman. If she wanted the second chance, she’d have to take it. She pushed thoughts of Sherman, and even Nesbitt and Micah, to the back of her mind, rose to her pumps, and walked over to the first cardboard box. Brown masking tape sealed the box, and she ripped it off in a sticky curl and opened the top flaps. It was time to start over. Now, she knew she could be a judge. And she would begin by moving into her new chambers.

Cate unpacked the first few books, mostly casebooks from law school, her go-to reference books, with sentimental value. She chose one, noting that Val must have wiped each one down before she packed it. She took the book to the empty bookshelves near the work table and set it on the shelf with a satisfying thud that echoed in the silent office, her thoughts skipping ahead with renewed energy. She’d replace all of her rules books and other reference books in the shelves nearest her desk, then rehang her diplomas and awards. She’d haul boxes she had never opened from the closet and unpack them for the first time, making arrangements of treasured photos and certificates from practice. She’d unwrap the office-warming gifts that her partners had given her and decorate the place. She’d finally make the office her own.

She turned back to the box of casebooks, shelving the next two with a happy, determined feeling. She’d just reached the middle of the box when she heard a noise in the reception area. The sound of the door to her chambers, opening.

Cate looked up from the law books in surprise.

CHAPTER 47

Even at the sight of her old enemy, Cate felt unusually calm, like Zen Judge. Maybe it was all this perspective she’d been getting. She hoped she hadn’t changed too much. She’d start throwing out Chanel jackets.

“What are you doing here?” Meriden asked, from the threshold to her office, his thin lips pursed. He stood disapproving in his houndstooth topcoat, maroon cashmere scarf, and black leather gloves that would have embarrassed most serial killers.

“Moving in,” Cate answered pleasantly. “I’m the new judge. What are you doing here?”

“I was working late and saw the light under the door, on my way to the elevator.”

“You mean you were killing time in your office until Val left, then you came in to snoop.” Cate smiled, but Meriden frowned.

“You know you’re not permitted in this building. Chief Judge Sherman has ordered your belongings shipped out and your docket reassigned.”

“He doesn’t have the power to do that.”

“Chief Judge Sherman runs this courthouse.”

“Granted,” Cate said, with a shrug, “but might doesn’t make right. He’s overstepped his power. Sherman may be the court administrator, but the Constitution affords him no greater status than it does me.” She remembered, in the beginning, being intimidated that her job description was in the United States Constitution. Now she rather liked the idea.

“He’s chief judge of the Eastern District.”

“I don’t see the words ‘chief judge’ anywhere in Article III. He has that title because he’s the most senior, and that’s all.” Cate slid another of her old casebooks from the box and shelved it with another great thud. It was fun to make noise.

“So you won’t go willingly.”

“Thank you, no. I earned this job, and I want this job. It’s mine and I’m keeping it.”

Meriden arched an eyebrow. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, I’ve been growing up.”

“About time.”

“I agree.”

Meriden snorted. “So you’ll fight us? You’ll sue the court? Your colleagues?”

“If you were colleagues, you wouldn’t try to throw me out. I don’t think of it as a fight. I think of it as asserting the power of the law. No one’s above it, not even judges. Especially not judges.”

Meriden shook his head. “What lawyer would be crazy enough to sue the Eastern District?”