Turn To Me by Tiffany A. Snow Page B

While he may have looked threatening, Hank was about as likely to take somebody down as he would drop kick puppies.  I liked him immensely, and he seemed to have a soft spot for me, too.
    “Hi, Hank,” I said with a grin, handing him my purse for his cursory inspection as I walked through the metal detector.  “Finished Christmas shopping for those kids of yours yet?”  Hank and his wife, Theresa, had five kids all under the age of ten.
    “Aw, Kathleen,” he said, a pained expression on his face as he gave my purse back to me, “you know I hate the mall this time of year.”
    “You hate the mall any time of year,” I retorted with a laugh.
    He grinned broadly and laughed as well.  “You got that right,” he said.
    I made my delivery, then called a local towing company to tow my car to the tire shop to get the flat fixed.  After that, I milled the hallways in indecision, wondering if I should call Clarice for a ride back to the firm.  I thought about how Diane was going to react to finding out the runner had no transportation, and no good scenario came to mind. 
    As I was putting off going back to the firm, and Diane, a thought occurred to me and I walked back to Hank.  I waited until there was a break in the flow of people coming inside before interrupting him, “Hey, Hank, could I ask a favor?”
    “Anything for you,” he said with a wink.
    “I was wondering if there's any room left in the gallery for the Waters' trial?”  I really wanted to see Blane, especially after reading those letters this morning.  I was sure he was fine, but I couldn't shake the lingering unease. 
    “That one's pretty crowded,” Hank said, “and been a bitch to keep secure with all the people wanting a piece of the action.” 
    I sighed, disappointed. 
    “But I think I can get you in,” Hank continued, glancing at his watch.  “If you come with me, they just took a short recess and have about another hour to go before lunch.”
    I brightened immediately.  “That's great!  Thanks so much, Hank.”
    I followed him through the halls to the largest courtroom in the building.  There was a crowd of people milling in the hallway outside the door, the buzz of conversation reverberating loudly off the walls.  Another security guard stood by the entrance to the courtroom, checking people's badges before allowing them through.  I kept up with Hank as his large size caused people to move to the side to allow him to pass.
    “This one's with me,” Hank told the guard, who nodded as we moved beyond him through the doorway.
    “Find a spot and settle in,” Hank directed, gesturing to the rows of benches, all of them filled nearly to capacity.
    “Thanks, Hank,” I said gratefully, and he gave me a smile in return before leaving.  I looked around, finally spotting a narrow strip of empty space on the bench directly behind the prosecution's table.  I was reluctant to take it, not wanting to be within such close proximity to James, but had no choice.  Hurrying down the aisle, I muttered an apology to the bench's occupants as I squeezed into the nearly too small space.  The man sitting next to me gave me a dirty look.  I ignored him.
    A few minutes later, the prosecution filed in and took their seats.  My heart seemed to skip a beat when I saw James.  He was standing, talking with another lawyer.  James was dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and navy tie.  He looked professional and honest.  You'd never know what he was capable of just by looking at him.  It made a chill go through me to watch him, remembering how his father had so easily condemned me to die and how James had done nothing to stop it.  I wondered if the apple didn't fall far from the tree.  Would James stoop to murder to achieve his ends?  Could it have been him out in the woods yesterday?
    I froze when James glanced around the courtroom as he talked quietly, taking in the number of people filling the gallery.  His gaze brushed past me