Chapter 9 - The Courthouse Corridor
“Move, move, move!” Harris shouted, shoving the heavy manila envelope into his tactical vest as he pulled the office door open.
We bolted out into the carpeted administrative hallway just as the heavy glass fire doors at the opposite end of the corridor slammed open, revealing two campus security guards in dark navy uniforms sprinting toward us with batons drawn.
“Hey! Stop right there! Hands where we can see them!” one guard bellowed.
“County Police! Stand down!” Harris roared back, flashing his gold detective shield as we sprinted past them toward the service elevator.
The guards hesitated just long enough for Harris to hit the emergency override button, forcing the elevator doors to snap shut right as they reached the threshold. The car groaned, jerked, and began descending rapidly toward the main lobby.
“That bought us about sixty seconds,” Harris panted, checking his watch. “Once we hit the ground floor, campus security will have the exits blocked. We need to reach the courtroom before 9:00 a.m., or Judge Sterling’s docket will lock us out entirely.”
“We take the subterranean delivery tunnel leading directly to the civil courts building,” Audrey offered, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clutched the railing inside the elevator. “There’s an old maintenance exit behind the loading docks that bypasses lobby security completely.”
The elevator car dinged, and the doors slid open to reveal the quiet, concrete loading bay of the municipal basement.
We poured out of the car, Naomi and Audrey leading the way through a heavy gray metal door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. The damp concrete tunnel stretched out before us like a subterranean vein, dimly lit by flickering overhead bulbs.
As we rounded the final bend leading up to the civil court stairs, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket.
I pulled it out while running. It was a text message from Captain Ruiz at the hospital:
“WARNING: Eleanor’s defense attorney just petitioned Judge Sterling for an early docket call. The hearing has been moved up to 8:30 a.m. You have twenty minutes.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. Twenty minutes.
We burst out of the stairwell door into the sunlit marble foyer of the Fairfax County Circuit Courthouse just as the massive oak doors of Courtroom 302 swung open to admit the morning public gallery.
And standing right there in the center of the marble floor, dressed in an immaculate cream-colored wool suit with her silver hair pinned to absolute perfection, was Eleanor Hayes.
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She turned her head, her cold, calculating eyes locking directly onto mine with a look of absolute, unyielding triumph.
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