Nineteen Minutes Read Free Page A

Patrick couldn’t help but feel that he was too late. He was a detective, but he didn’t detect anything. It fell into his lap, already broken, every time.
    It was the first warm day of March, the one where you started to believe that the snow would melt sooner rather than later, and that June was truly just around the corner. Josie sat on the hood of Matt’s Saab in the student parking lot, thinking that it was closer to summer than it was to the start of this school year, that in a scant three months, she would officially be a member of the senior class.
    Beside her, Matt leaned against the windshield, his face tipped up to the sun. “Let’s ditch school,” he said. “It’s too nice out to be stuck inside all day.”
    “If you ditch, you’ll be benched.”
    The state championship tournament in hockey began this afternoon, and Matt played right wing. Sterling had won last year, and they had every expectation of doing it again. “You’re coming to the game,” Matt said, and it wasn’t a question, but a statement.
    “Are you going to score?”
    Matt smiled wickedly and tugged her on top of him. “Don’t I always?” he said, but he wasn’t talking about hockey anymore, and she felt a blush rise over the collar of her scarf.
    Suddenly Josie felt a rain of hail on her back. They both sat up to find Brady Pryce, a football player, walking by hand-in-hand with Haley Weaver, the homecoming queen. Haley tossed a second shower of pennies-Sterling High’s way of wishing an athlete good luck. “Kick ass today, Royston,” Brady called.
    Their math teacher was crossing the parking lot, too, with a worn black leather briefcase and a thermos of coffee. “Hey, Mr. McCabe,” Matt called out. “How’d I do on last Friday’s test?”
    “Luckily, you’ve got other talents to fall back on, Mr. Royston,” the teacher said as he reached into his pocket. He winked at Josie as he pitched the coins, pennies that fell from the sky onto her shoulders like confetti, like stars coming loose.
    It figures, Alex thought as she stuffed the contents of her purse back inside. She had switched handbags and left her pass key at home, which allowed her into the employee entrance at the rear of the superior court. Although she’d pushed the buzzer a million times, no one seemed to be around to let her in.
    “Goddamn,” she muttered under her breath, hiking around the slush puddles so that her alligator heels wouldn’t get ruined-one of the perks of parking in the back was not having to do this. She could cut through the clerk’s office to her chambers, and if the planets were aligned, maybe even onto the bench without causing a delay in the docket.
    Although the public entrance of the court had a line twenty people long, the court officers recognized Alex because, unlike the district court circuit, where you bounced from courthouse to courthouse, she would be ensconced here for six months. The officers waved her to the front of the line, but since she was carrying keys and a stainless steel travel thermos and God only knew what else in her purse, she set off the metal detectors.
    The alarm was a spotlight; every eye in the lobby turned to see who’d gotten caught. Ducking her head, Alex hurried across the polished tile floor and nearly lost her footing. As she pitched forward, a squat man reached forward to steady her. “Hey, baby,” he said, leering. “I like your shoes.”
    Without responding, Alex yanked herself out of his grasp and headed toward the clerk’s office. None of the other superior court judges had to deal with this. Judge Wagner was a nice guy, but with a face that looked like a pumpkin left to rot after Halloween. Judge Gerhardt-a fellow female-had blouses that were older than Alex. When Alex had first come to the bench, she’d thought that being a relatively young, moderately attractive woman was a good thing-a vote against typecasting-but on mornings like this, she wasn’t so sure.
    She dumped her purse in