Cavanaugh Judgment by Marie Ferrarella Page A

other, waiting for one of them to enlighten her. By the look on his face, she had a feeling that her answer wasn’t going to come from the judge.
    “My younger son,” Alexander told her stoically.
    The older man, she noted, was staring at the remaining black liquid in his cup, avoiding her eyes. This was the first she’d heard of a sibling. “You have a brother?” she asked Blake.
    “Had,” Blake corrected tersely, grinding out the word almost against his will.
    She waited for details, and, as she expected, it was the older Kincannon who ultimately filled her in. “Scottie was killed saving his platoon in Afghanistan. He was a marine,” his father said with pride.
    “He died a hero,” Greer concluded.
    Blake’s face was stony. “Bottom line, he died,” he said, his voice hollow.
    A wave of compassion washed over her. Kincannon certainly had had his share of tragedies, she thought, her heart going out to him.
    “A hero,” Alexander repeated firmly, daring his remaining son to contradict him.
    Blake had no desire to get into an argument this early in the morning. Scottie had wanted nothing more than their father’s approval and had rushed off to enlist to fight for his country the minute he graduated college. It had been an utter waste of a decent human being.
    Stifling a sigh, Blake echoed, “A hero,” and let it go at that. He looked at Greer. “When you get Donna McClosky’s address, let me know.”
    “So you can send her your condolences?” Greer asked, thinking that Kincannon was a nicer man than he wanted people to believe.
    Blake didn’t answer at first, debating how much information to part with. But, given what he was learning about this woman’s nature, he knew that she’d make it a point to find out. He might as well spare himself the interrogation.
    “Costs a lot to raise a child these days. From what Tim told me, his aunt was just barely getting by. He was looking for a second job so he could send her a little money every month.”
    “You’re gonna set up some kind of a trust fund for the kid?” It was a rhetorical question on his father’s part. “Count me in.”
    Blake looked at his father. The only income the older man had was his pension. “You don’t exactly have money to burn, Gunny.”
    His father’s grin was a bit lopsided. “Yeah, I know, but I got this kid who lets me live at his place free. Been saving up for something special. This trust fund just might be it,” he added with a nod of his head.
    Generosity with a minimum of words. And a maximum of heart. For a moment, a surge of emotion threatened to close her throat. Yesterday, in court, when she sat in the witness chair, Kincannon had struck her as a somber, humorless man, a man who had evolved without a heart because of the loss he’d suffered. She would have never guessed that there was this caring side to him.
    Just goes to show, you never really know about a person. “I’ll get you that address,” she promised.
    “Good.” Blake began to rise.
    Greer was instantly alert. “Where are you going, Judge?”
    “I have this flowing black robe.” There was more than a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “It only seems to go with a courtroom as an accessory.”
    She ignored the sarcasm. “It’s early, Judge,” she pointed out, then indicated his plate. He’d barely touched it. “And you haven’t eaten your breakfast yet.”
    “Won’t go to waste,” Alexander was quick to tell her, eyeing the plate. “I’ll eat it if he’s fool enough not to.”
    “No, he’ll eat it,” she told the other man, looking pointedly at Blake. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, would you, Judge?”
    Blake laughed shortly. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
    “You’d be surprised.” That had slipped out unintentionally. She hurried to cover it up. There was no way she was going to let the judge think that she had a sensitive side. “At least try it,” she urged. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t