The Summer House

Chapter 89

The hearing room in the Sullivan County Superior Courthouse is packed, with not a single seat available along the two sets of four long wooden benches. Before the benches is a wooden bar with a swinging gate, and to the left is the juror’s box, which is empty. Captain Allen Pierce and Dr. John Huang are standing against a wall near the doors leading into the outer hall. Only by showing their CID badges and appealing to the patriotism of the courthouse attendants were they able to get in.

Huang says, “What a circus.”

Pierce doesn’t say a word, just takes it all in. Across from the empty jury box are two tables and sets of chairs. One table is occupied by District Attorney Cornelius Slate, sitting slumped in his chair. The other table and chairs are empty, and that’s where Pierce expects Staff Sergeant Caleb Jefferson to show up in a few minutes. At the other side of the enclosure is a witness booth, the raised bench for the judge — also empty — and another booth that looks to be occupied by an older African American woman, probably the court clerk. Two male uniformed court attendants stand by the judge’s bench.

Huang nudges him with an elbow. “Look. Over there. Do you see who has a prime seat?”

Pierce spots Sheriff Emma Williams sitting in the first row, with her campaign hat in her lap, and she’s laughing and whispering to everyone near her.

Huang says, “She looks happier than hell. Why is that?”

Sheriff Emma Williams checks her watch. In a few minutes that old fool Judge Howell Rollins will come in — hopefully not stumbling after his usual breakfast of two Bloody Marys — and get this show on the road.

She smiles as she takes in all of her people in the courtroom and doesn’t even break her smile at seeing those two sad-looking Army folks standing over there against the wall, like theatergoers who were promised orchestra seats and now are forced to stand throughout the show.

And what a show today promises to be. Behind this courthouse is the Sullivan County Jail, and that place is hers. Boyd Tolliver is in a two-person holding cell, and when that double-crossing piece of shit Staff Sergeant Jefferson pleads guilty and is sent back there, in preparation for being transferred to a state prison, well, the official story will be that he attacked this poor citizen out of rage, and said citizen had to defend himself.

The other two will be taken care of later, tonight or early tomorrow morning.

Of that she has no doubt.

And the woman CID agent who nearly got her head blown off, Williams heard late last night from a nurse at the hospital that she’s in a coma and probably won’t make it. She rubs at a healing scratch on her hand. Hell, even those two redneck clowns she put down a couple of days back near Hunter Army Airfield haven’t yet been reported missing.

Then... Tuesday, Election Day, and the day after, she’ll start packing her bags.

Williams scans the room, seeing her people. Will Fletcher, who took out a loan from her four years back when his dump trucks needed repair and will be paying off the loan for another three years. Moss Gray, who refused to give her a cut of his ’shine business, and whose two sons are now doing time over in Georgia State Prison. Ray Cass, who illegally dumps waste oil and gasoline from his three service stations in the local state forest, and who is going to do a favor for the sheriff late tonight, by disabling the bay doors for the Ralston Volunteer Fire Department so they can’t respond when an electrical fire breaks out at the Ralston jail, incinerating the poor prisoners incarcerated there.

Just the two, of course, but that will be enough.

Williams catches the eye of the tired-looking Chinaman standing back there and gives him a little wave and a smile.

Huang nudges the JAG lawyer with his elbow. “Did you see that? Did you? She waved at us. A big smile and she waved at us.”

Pierce says. “Confident little witch, isn’t she?”

Huang whispers again, “You don’t understand.”

“Then clarify it, Doc. The games are about to begin.”

“The sheriff is more than just confident,” he says, recalling the look on her face. “She’s taunting us. She’s telling us that no matter what happens today, it’s all going to come out in her favor.”

Pierce says, “That’s news? Staff Sergeant Jefferson is pleading guilty.”

“No, it’s more than that,” Huang says, desperately trying to keep his voice low. “Remember our stay at the jail last night, when the jail attendant told us that she heard the DA had pissed off the sheriff by getting that guilty plea? That humiliated her. She’s not a woman to be humiliated.”

A door at the far end of the courtroom opens, and an older man with snow-white hair and wearing black robes slowly comes in.

The woman clerk calls, “All rise!”

Huang whispers, “Allen, I think she means to kill the staff sergeant.”