No federal call.
Just verification.
Exactly what should have happened the first time.
Upstairs, Evelyn was making tea.
“You’re late.”
“Security stopped me.”
She turned sharply.
Marcus started laughing.
His mother glared.
“Not funny.”
“He checked the system.”
“Then let you through?”
“Yes.”
She relaxed.
“Fine.”
Marcus sat.
On the table was a thick binder.
“What is that?”
“Budget.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I refuse.”
“You’re a federal judge.”
“Exactly.”
“I work enough.”
Evelyn put tea in front of him.
“The garage contract is overpriced.”
“Mom.”
“You understand procurement.”
“I understand escape.”
She smiled.
For several minutes they drank tea.
Then Evelyn said:
“Do you ever think about that morning?”
Marcus stared into the cup.
“Yes.”
“Me too.”
“I know.”
“I keep wondering what would have happened if the marshals didn’t arrive.”
Marcus looked toward her.
“You heard my speech.”
“The one about titles?”
“Yes.”
“I agree with it.”
“Good.”
“But I’m your mother.”
“Unfortunately.”
She ignored him.
“If they had taken you to jail…”
“They probably wouldn’t have.”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
He admitted:
“I don’t.”
Evelyn’s eyes softened.
“I hated seeing those marks.”
Marcus looked at his wrists.
Long healed.
“I know.”
She continued:
“When you were little, you fell off your bicycle.”
“You came home with both knees bleeding.”
“You tried not to cry because some older boys were watching.”
“I told you there was no prize for pretending something didn’t hurt.”
Marcus smiled.
“I remember.”
“You did the same thing in the garage.”
“What?”
“Pretended you were completely calm.”
“I was calm.”
“You were furious.”
Marcus looked toward her.
“Both can be true.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Good.”
“Because sometimes I worry being a judge has trained you to act like every emotion needs permission to enter the record.”
Marcus laughed.
“That is disturbingly accurate.”
She reached across the table.
“You were allowed to be angry.”
“I was.”
“You still are?”
He thought.
“Less.”
“At Diane?”
Marcus considered.
“No.”
“That’s not the part that stays.”
“What does?”
“The moment Hayes looked at her before deciding what to do with me.”
Evelyn waited.
Marcus continued:
“It was quick.”
“Maybe half a second.”
“But I saw him decide whose story was already real.”
His mother squeezed his hand.
Marcus said:
“That stays.”
Years earlier, his father had told him that judges did not decide truth.
They decided what evidence allowed them to conclude.