Judge Stone by James Patterson - 16

We had a homegrown scandal. After that day, people in Union Springs couldn’t stop talking about it. Bria Gaines; Nova Jones; the abortion; the arrest. Everyone breathless with anticipation to see what might happen next.

I tried my best to bow out of those conversations, truly I did. Damn near impossible. There was no place to hide. The criminal case against Dr. Gaines was top of mind in every corner of the community.

On Friday, I had a reprieve written into my schedule, and I was looking forward to it. I had plans to get out of town, out of the county. I’d be driving my car up highway AL-110 to I-85, because I had a standing appointment with an old friend. Twice a month, we met up at the Oyster House in downtown Montgomery.

To be honest, I was tempted to duck out early that day. The clock moved so slowly after lunch, I was wild to cut out at three.

I held off. Didn’t let myself slack. Maybe that was the wrong choice.

Because at five past three, Reverend Curtis Erskine strolled into the front office. I heard him say to Luna, “If Judge Stone’s in, I’d like to speak with her.”

Luna ushered him right through my door. She should’ve checked with me first, to get a green light. Must’ve slipped right out of her head. She assumed that the standard rules didn’t apply to Erskine. He’s got that old magic, like my sister said. Works on all women—with the possible exception of his wife.

I rose from my seat and extended my hand across the desk. “Reverend! What business are you doing at the courthouse this afternoon?”

Frankly, I was curious to see whether he’d tell a lie. Nothing happens at the Bullock County Courthouse on Friday afternoons. Same could be said of most any courthouse, anywhere, for that matter.

He smiled, grasping my hand in a warm grip. “No business. Just wanted to talk with you, Judge, if you’re not tied up.”

So he wasn’t a liar. But he was crafty. He’d handpicked the time, knowing I’d be free.

Luna shut the door, closing me in with the preacher. I stared at the landline phone on my desk, half inclined to pick it up and tell Luna to keep the door cracked open. But I couldn’t think of a rational justification. I certainly didn’t believe the preacher was bent upon inflicting physical harassment. He hadn’t come to my chambers to throw a punch, or to steal a kiss.

As he sat across from me, I stared him down, wondering, Just what does he intend to accomplish?

He didn’t make me wait. “Judge Mary, you won’t be surprised to learn that I’ve heard about the abortion case. It’s weighing on me. A heavy burden.” He paused. When I didn’t speak, he sighed and said, “You know I’m Nova Jones’s pastor. I’m ministering to the whole Jones family. And Bria Gaines has also attended my church from time to time.”

I cleared my throat. “I really can’t talk about this, you understand.”

“I do! I do understand, Judge. I’m not here to force any confessions or guarantees out of you. Just here in my capacity as a man of God.”

The audacity of that man shouldn’t have surprised me. I cut him off. “You wanting to pray over me, Reverend? I’d rather skip that. Not comfortable with it in this setting.”

“Hear me out, Judge. I want to counsel you. To tell you this.” He made eye contact, held it. “Do the right thing or don’t do it at all.”

“What did you say to me?”

“You know exactly what I’m saying. What the right thing to do would be. If you can’t do that, well, don’t do it at all.”

Anger surged, making sparks blur my vision. “You got a lot of nerve, Reverend. Trying to influence a judge.”

He raised both hands in a defensive gesture, like he was saying Don’t shoot! “Don’t take it wrong.”

“How am I supposed to take it?”

“Judge, I’m a pastor, it’s my job to advise people.”

A pulse was beating in my head. I had to work hard to hold on to my temper. “Well, here’s some advice for you. You want to be a preacher, stay out of politics.”

“I’m not talking about politics.”

“The hell you say.”

His eyes widened. Probably because he wasn’t used to people cussing around him. He dropped his voice. “I’m talking about God’s word. The Sixth Commandment. ‘Thou shalt not kill.’”

“And I’m talking about your nonprofit status. Your church doesn’t pay taxes.”

It startled him. I could see it in his face. I drove the point home.

“Getting involved in political matters can threaten your tax-exempt status. You know the IRS rules. 501(c)(3). You want to use your position and pulpit to play with politics, your church can start paying taxes, just like the rest of us.”

He scowled at me. I could see he wasn’t ready to quit.

So I finished it for him. Stood up, grabbed my bag, walked to the door and pulled it open. “I have someplace I need to be. Let’s put a stop to this conversation before you go too far, Reverend.”

He was fuming as he launched out of the chair and left my chambers. But he didn’t say another word. I watched him go. After the door slammed shut behind him, Luna turned to me with her eyes wide. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said. My tone was brusque. I eased off; none of this was Luna’s fault. “We’re getting out of here, Luna. Taking off early. I have to get out of this town.”