I gave a start. This was the first time I’d heard any of this. Stop sign? Disorderly conduct?
The judge glanced at me. “You have an issue with these charges?”
Keep your mouth shut,Jayce had said. If I disputed the charges, it would be my word against the sheriff’s. In good-old-boy towns like this, an outsider had no chance of convincing a judge.
“No, sir,” I made myself say. “I don’t have an issue with the charges.”
The judge spent a few moments focusing on his fishing rod. “The sheriff is a good man, but he can be…over-enthusiasticabout the law. Conducts himself by the letter of it, rather than the intent. Sometimes he perceives the slightest offense to be a terrible infraction. If you know what I mean.”
“I do understand what you mean,” I said carefully.
“Do you believe my sheriff pulled you over mistakenly?” he persisted. “Were you speeding, did you run a stop sign, and did you then resist arrest?”
He had kind, understanding eyes. Eyes which would accept the truth. And he’d implied that this wasn’t the first time the sheriff had done this.
“I… am not sure,” I said judiciously. “The rain was coming down in sheets, and I believed I was goingunderthe speed limit. I was on the frontage road next to I-16, and I didn’t see any stop signs, but I guess it’s possible I missed one on account of the rain.”
“And the disorderly conduct?” he pressed. “Resisting arrest?”
I glanced at the sheriff. He was inside the cruiser now, unable to hear what I would say.
“You can tell me, honey,” he said in a grandfatherly voice. “I’m a judge. If I’m to dispense justice, I need to know all the facts.”
Tell him,I thought.Tell him the truth so you can leave this town.
I took a deep breath and said, “The sheriff seemed to be looking for an excuse to bring me in. I had my license and registration ready when he came to the window. He wouldn’t take them. Just asked me questions about my suitcases, then demanded I get out of the car. I obeyed every order he gave as quickly as I could.”
“Mmm hmm,” he nodded. “I don’t doubt that you did. What’s that?”
He was looking at the jacket balled up in my hand. “Oh. The guy in the jail cell next to mine put this over me while I was sleeping. To keep me warm. I didn’t want to leave it.”
“A man named Jayce?”
I gave a start. “That’s him.”
Suddenly the fishing line went taut, and the rod curled down with the weight of a fish. The judge made an excited noise and expertly reeled the fish in. The fish that finally broke the surface of the water was about a foot long, silver and blue scales glistening in the early morning sun.
“I understand now,” the judge said. “You’re calling my sheriff a liar.”
It took a moment for the words to hit home. “I… no sir?”
“Yes you did.” He pointed at my feet. “You stood right there in your heels, just now, and contested my sheriff’s account of the events.”
“Sir, I didn’t—”
“Your honor,” he snapped.
Crap, I haven’t been using the right title all this time!
“Your honor,” I quickly corrected. “I’m sorry if I offended you. You asked me for the truth…”
He paused to remove the fish from the hook, then dropped it in a wicker basket. “Here’s what I think,” he said while aiming a long finger in my direction. “I think you weredrunk.”
“Drunk! Your honor--”
“High heels and a skirt?” He scoffed. “You were out on a date. You’re not married, unless you conveniently removed your ring.”
“Your honor, I was at a business meeting in Savannah.”