Judge Stone by James Patterson - 1

Dr. Bria Gaines

UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA

Bria Gaines stood at the back door of the small brick office building she rented in Union Springs, Alabama, population 3,314. She pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time. Six minutes past midnight. They were late.

Maybe they weren’t coming.

Maybe she’d be spared.

It was dark out, mostly quiet except for frogs, the spring peepers, singing in the narrow creek that wove through trees leafing out for the season.

She heard the rattle of an approaching vehicle before the flash of its brights signaled the arrival of the old Toyota SUV.

Pulling up onto the gravel space that served as a parking lot, the driver cut the engine, killed the headlights.

Bria’s nerves were strung tight, heart pounding. She knew the risk when she’d agreed to do this thing. Nobody had forced her into it. Sometimes, she’d realized, a person has to take a stand.

Bria tried hard not to let fear overcome her certainty. But when she flipped on the back door light, panic sent her pulse racing. Something was wrong already. Only two people emerged from the car. Bria had expected three.

She recognized the driver. It was Cocheta Bass, the nurse practitioner who worked at Union Springs Middle School. The passenger was a female wearing a hoodie that left her face in shadow.

Bria watched Cocheta pat the girl’s shoulder as they climbed the back steps together. She pushed the door wide, to let them in, then immediately flipped off the outdoor light. Pulled the door shut and turned the dead bolt. They needed to be locked up tight.

Bria led them into her office waiting room, toward the table lamp that dimly lit the space around the reception desk. Checking to see that the blinds were shut, Bria flipped the overhead light on.

The school nurse spoke in a whisper, as if fearful of being overheard. “Dr. Gaines, this is Nova.”

The girl pulled the hood off her head and pushed her hair away from her face to reveal cheeks and a forehead glistening with sweat.

Nova Jones was tall, standing five feet, eight inches, and her body had already matured. Bria recognized the frightened girl as the attentive big sister who chased around town after a brood of younger siblings.

She smiled and said, “Hi, Nova. I’ve seen you at church, over at Victory Baptist. How old are you now?”

Nova looked down at the floor and whispered, “Thirteen.”

So. This was actually happening. A first for Bria Gaines, that was certain.

She’d never committed a felony before.

But a key person was missing. Bria couldn’t overlook that. She glanced from Nova to the school nurse. “So where’s Ms. Jones, Nova’s mom?”

Nova’s breath caught. She took a step backward, like she might bolt. “No! No, ma’am, Mama can’t know. Never!”

Bria spoke gently to the girl. “You need your mother’s support. She’ll need to care for you, help you through this.”

Nova’s voice shook as she said, “She’ll be so mad. She’ll think I’m a bad girl. That I was out there being fast.” The girl’s chest heaved, like her distress was combusting, getting ready to explode.

Bria had the uneasy feeling that she was walking straight into a predicament—a precarious situation even more out of control than she’d been led to believe.

Bria didn’t let her agitation show as she walked over to a supply cupboard. She pulled a clean hospital gown from a stack of linens and handed it to Nova. “The exam room is right over here,” she said, opening another door and flipping the interior light switch. “You can change in there. Take everything off, okay? Even your bra and panties. Let me know when you’re done.”

She used her doctor voice—encouraging, brisk, professional. The girl wiped her wet eyes with her sleeve as she stepped into the examination room, shutting the door behind her.

Cocheta pressed her hand against her chest. “How you doing, Doctor? I’m so nervous, it’s making me lightheaded. I was afraid I’d keel over, just from walking up those stairs.”

Bria turned to the nurse, taking care to keep her voice low. “You said her mother would be here with her.”

Cocheta heaved a deep breath. “I tried, I did! Nova won’t tell her mother about it. Absolutely won’t budge on that. She’s scared to death about what her mother will do if she finds out.”

“Cocheta, I’d feel a lot better about this if she had family support.”

The nurse darted a look at the exam room door before she responded. “That girl got her first period when she was nine years old. You know what her mother did? Gave her a pad and told her if she ever brought any babies home, she’d kick her ass out.”

“Oh, my God.” It was a tragic situation, but it also scared her. She turned away from the nurse, wishing she had time to think it through.

The nurse said in an urgent whisper, “If you don’t fix this tonight, I can’t guarantee what the outcome’s gonna be. That poor child actually threatened to try a coat hanger. Lord! I swear, I thought those days were history.”

The suggestion terrified Bria. She rubbed her eyes, taking a moment to compose herself. There was only one reasonable solution. The stakes, though, were enormous. “Who got her pregnant, who’s the father? Did you get her to open up about that?”

Sounding rueful, Cocheta said, “I asked. She still won’t say. So legally, I’m supposed to call the Division of Human Resources, or the police. As you know.”

Bria did know. “Mandated reporter statute.”

“Yeah, we’re mandated reporters under Alabama law. But I grew up on the Creek reservation in Poarch. So I never really felt like state law governed me, because my tribe had a treaty with the feds. Does that make sense?”

“No.” The discussion made Bria’s head hurt. Cocheta’s interpretation of her legal liability was flat wrong. “We’re both mandated reporters in Alabama. Both subject to Alabama state law.”

“Okay, right. But if we call the police or DHR, you know what’s going to happen, what they’ll force her to do. She’s just thirteen, Dr. Gaines. Barely thirteen.”

Bria knew what the child’s fate would be. She also knew that the assistance that Nova Jones and Cocheta Bass wanted her to provide could end her medical practice and send her to prison.

Alabama had the toughest anti-abortion law in the country, and it placed criminal liability squarely on the backs of doctors. Under the Alabama Human Life Protection Act, intentionally performing an abortion was a Class A felony.

Maybe Cocheta could read her mind. She said, “Doctor, I know the spot I’m putting you in. Good Lord! We’re both putting our lives on the line for this girl. I threw up twice today, just from nerves. Thought about backing out. But I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.” Her voice cracked when she added, “If she ends up trying to kill herself or butcher herself—”

Cocheta didn’t finish the sentence, because the door to the examination room opened. Nova stepped out with bare feet, clutching the loose ends of the blue hospital gown behind her back. Nova’s toes curled up on the tile. But it wasn’t the cold from the air-conditioning that made the girl tremble.

Nova’s voice was shaking when she said, “Please, Doctor. Help me.”

Bria caught her breath. Everything fell into place inside her head. She smiled as she reached out and wiped away the tears under Nova’s eyes. “I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart. Gonna do what’s right. Everything will be okay, don’t you worry.”