Murder in the Courthouse Read Free Page A

sitting next to her finally had an in. The seats were so tight in coach, he was practically in her lap and tried to spark up various conversations with Hailey ever since he’d grabbed her carry-on to hoist it into the overhead compartment.
    Hailey had thanked him politely for the help but extricated herself from what was obviously a pass. But now he had another “in.” He’d spotted a tear. Quickly wiping her eyes with the little square napkin a Delta attendant placed beneath her hot tea, she answered, “No, I don’t have a husband. I never married.”
    Poor choice of words. His eyes lit up, and now, her in-flight partner seemed to get a second wind.
    â€œ Not married? A beautiful young girl like you? I’m in shock! I can’t believe it! What . . . are the men in New York City blind as bats? Or just plain crazy?”
    â€œYou know I flew from New York?” Hailey’s antennae went up.
    â€œWell, ma’am. My name is Cloud Sims and I hail from Nebraska, transplanted a few years ago to Manhattan. I was there at the same gate as you this morning. Delta gate number one. So why’s a pretty lady like you crying?” Just then, he tried his best to cross his long legs and managed to kick Hailey with the sharp toe of one of his elaborate cowboy boots.
    Hailey was tempted to rattle off the medical examiner’s autopsy report verbatim, but that didn’t seem right. “Oh, I’m just getting ready for a trial and the facts of the case are a little upsetting.”
    â€œA trial? Are you a lawyer? Wow! Brains and beauty! You know . . . I always wanted to go to law school . . .”
    He was off. Hailey let him talk. It was easier than having a real conversation about why tears had spilled . . . because the autopsy report had stirred up too many memories of another autopsy report.
    Will’s autopsy. Her fiancé . . . Will . Now, suddenly, here he was again in her mind. His blue eyes sparkling, the straight white teeth behind a beautiful smile, laughing, talking, so alive.
    Will was in college studying geology. His world ended and Hailey’s exploded in one single moment—he was mugged for his wallet and shot five times in his face, neck, and head. It was just before their wedding, and from that moment she existed as a shell of herself . . . pining for a life . . . and a love . . . she could never get back.
    Then there was the trial . . . a hazy, awful blur, but Hailey went every day. Ditching her lifelong plan to open a counseling center in the inner city, instead, she went to law school. To put away the bad guys. And one by one, killers, rapist, drug lords, child molesters, the jailhouse population grew to hate her almost as much as she hated them. But after ten years of crusading on behalf of crime victims, she was saturated with it all: the autopsies, the crime scenes, the packed courtrooms . . . and she took off. To Manhattan, to start over fresh, hanging her counseling shingle at a little brownstone in the Village near NYU. The clients started pouring in, and ever since, she’d tried to put Will’s murder and all the years in the trenches fighting violent crime behind her.
    â€œ. . . and that’s when I said, ‘Good-bye Omaha and hello New York City!’ What about you . . . what did you tell me your name was, pretty lady?”
    â€œHailey. Now let’s see, Nebraska. That’s the Cornhusker State, right?” She answered as brightly as she could without revealing she had no idea what he’d been saying. That would be rude.
    That was all it took. Off he went again, this guy could go on forever. Staring out at the clouds just outside coach seat 11A, she wondered if Will was out there watching her flight, maybe protecting it as it shot across the top of the sky.
    Now sitting on the tarmac, the heat was boring through the metal shell of the plane. Finally, a little bell rang twice, like a doorbell, and everyone stood