Maybe two.
Her burgundy handbag slid from her wrist.
One white heel shifted against the floor as she steadied herself.
Then Josephine slowly turned her head back.
Hale was breathing hard.
He seemed surprised by his own action.
Only briefly.
Then justification rushed in.
“You assaulted an officer.”
Josephine touched her lip.
Her fingertip came away red.
She looked at the blood.
Then at him.
Hale pulled out his handcuffs.
Josephine spoke quietly.
“You have absolutely no idea what you have just done.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Heavy footsteps came from behind him.
A seventy-one-year-old bailiff named Walter Greene pushed through the gathering crowd.
Walter had served inside the courthouse for twenty-eight years.
He had escorted defendants.
Protected juries.
Carried evidence.
Separated angry families.
Comforted children.
Watched six different chief judges take the bench.
He had known Josephine since her first week as an assistant federal prosecutor.
He saw the scattered documents first.
Then her sunglasses on the floor.
Then her bleeding lip.
Then Hale holding open handcuffs.
Walter’s face went pale.
“Marcus.”
Hale barely looked at him.
“Stay out of it.”
Walter stepped closer.
“What did you do?”
“She resisted detention.”
Walter stared at Josephine.
“Judge?”
Hale’s face changed slightly.
Walter moved between them.
Then turned toward Josephine with genuine horror.
“Your Honor.”
Two words.
Nothing more.
The hallway seemed to stop breathing.
Hale stared at Walter.
Then at Josephine.
Then back at Walter.
“What?”
Walter looked at him.
“You just hit Judge Caldwell.”
Hale’s face emptied.
The cuffs lowered several inches.
Somebody near the elevators whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Josephine did not smile.
Did not gloat.
Did not tell him she had warned him.
She bent slowly and picked up her sunglasses.
The left lens was scratched.
Hale’s mouth moved.
Nothing came.
Finally:
“I didn’t—”
Josephine looked at him.
He stopped.
Walter turned toward another uniformed officer standing fifteen feet away.
Officer Leah Barnes had witnessed almost everything.
She was thirty-one, a courthouse officer for six years.
Her face was frozen.
Walter asked:
“Your camera on?”
Leah looked down.
A red light blinked.
Hale saw it.
His fear became visible.
“Barnes.”
She looked toward him.
“What?”
“Turn that off.”
Walter’s head snapped toward him.
Josephine straightened.
Leah’s hand hovered near the device.
For a second, nobody knew what she would do.