His stomach was burning in the center of his gut like a crashed meteor. He’d drunk two swallows of antacid on his way back to the courthouse, but he could stand another kick. Alex didn’t appear the least bit rattled. She sat down across the desk from him and gracefully shrugged out of her coat.
“Let’s get to it, Miss Gaither,” he said imperiously. “What do you want to know?”
Alex opened her briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of papers. Inwardly, the judge groaned. “I’ve read the transcript of Bud Hicks’s hearing, and I have some questions about it.”
“Such as?”
“What was your rush?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Bud Hicks was arraigned on a charge of first-degree murder and held without bail in the Purcell County jail. His competency hearing was held three days later.”
“So?”
“Isn’t that a rather brief period of time in which to weigh a man’s future?”
The judge leaned back in his cordovan leather chair, which had been a gift from his daughter, hoping to impress the young attorney with his composure. “Maybe the docket was loaded and I was trying to clear it out. Or maybe it was a slack time and I was able to act quickly. I don’t remember. It was twenty-five years ago.”
She lowered her eyes to the notepad resting on her lap. “You had only two psychiatrists examine Mr. Hicks.”
“His retardation was obvious, Miss Gaither.”
“I’m not questioning that.”
“He was, to put it unkindly, the town idiot. I don’t mean to sound cruel, but that’s what he was. He was tolerated. People saw him, but looked through him, if you know what I mean. He was a harmless fixture—”
“Harmless?”
Again the judge could have bitten his tongue. “Until the night he killed your mother.”
“No jury convicted him of that, Judge.”
Judge Wallace wet his lips, chagrined. “Of course.” He tried to avoid her level gaze so he could collect his thoughts. “I felt that two psychiatric analyses would be adequate, in this particular case.”
“No doubt I would agree with you, if the analyses hadn’t been so divergent.”
“Or, if your mother hadn’t been the victim of the crime,” the judge said, getting in a shot.
She bristled. “I’m going to disregard that, Judge Wallace.”
“Well, isn’t that what this is all about? Or do you, for some reason unknown to me, want to question my integrity and undermine a judgment I made twenty-five years ago?”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide, then you’ve got no reason to believe that your excellent record will be marred by my asking a few questions, do you?”
“Proceed,” he said stiffly.
“The two court-appointed psychiatrists disagreed on Mr. Hicks’s mental condition the night of my mother’s murder. This was the glitch that first intrigued me. After calling District Attorney Harper’s attention to it, he agreed that the case should be reinvestigated.
“One psychiatrist clearly believed that Hicks was incapable of committing such an act of violence. The other said he was. Why didn’t you seek a third, tie-breaking opinion?”
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“I disagree, Judge.” She paused a moment, then looked up at him without lifting her head. “You were golf partners with the doctor who ruled in favor of. The other psychiatrist was from out of town. That was the first and only time he ever appeared in your court as an expert witness.”
Judge Wallace’s face became red with indignation. “If you doubt my honesty, I suggest you consult with the doctors themselves, Miss Gaither.”
“I’ve tried. Unfortunately, both are deceased.” She met his hostile gaze coolly. “I did, however, consult with the last doctor to treat Mr. Hicks. He says you punished the wrong man, and has given me an affidavit to that effect.”