TRIBUNAL
Alex hugged her knees to her chest in her cell at the Tennessee New Visions Youth Development Facility at Woodland Hills in Nashville. Which was just a puffed up name for kid prison.
Her eyes darted to a girl she'd gotten into a fight with as she passed by Alex's cell. The other girl sneered. The guard accompanying the girl jostled her, making her look forward again. Alex smirked when she saw the black eye she'd given the girl.
Alex had played the game before in another corrections center when she'd been in for petty theft. Not being afraid to defend herself had ensured no one else caused another fight with her while she was in juvie. She hoped it would be the same here. She wasn't the type to start fights, but she was the type who finished them.
It didn't matter what it was about, she wouldn't put up with it.
She looked up when footsteps approached. A guard unlocked her cell. "You've got a visitor."
Alex rose to be escorted to a meeting room. She paused in the doorway when she saw Mr. North sitting at a table beside another man in a dark suit. The guard seated Alex across from them, shut the door, and stood watch.
Mr. North was the first to speak. "I came as soon as I could."
Alex folded her arms and leaned back in the chair wordlessly.
Mr. North motioned to the man beside him. "This is my attorney Mr. Michaels."
The attorney leaned forward, offering his hand to shake, but Alex just glared at him. He sat back down slowly and smoothed over his tie.
Mr. North folded his hands on the cool, steel table they crowded around. He cleared his throat. "Alex, it is within my power to change your circumstances. Mr. Michaels here will help us bring you back to North Oak."
Alex turned her head and pursed her lips as though she had tasted something sour.
"What's wrong?" asked North.
Her eyes drilled into his. "Why doesn't anyone ask what I want? What makes you think I want to go back to your dumb horse farm?"
North fell back in his chair, much the same way Hillary had when she told her of the murder. He was quiet so long that his attorney began stacking and smoothing over the papers in front of him, avoiding eye contact with both parties.
Mr. North glanced at him. "Could you give us a moment?"
Mr. Michaels nodded and rose. The guard let him step into the hall where he promptly pulled a cell phone from his inner suit pocket. When the door shut, North leaned toward Alex. He pulled a file from the pile his attorney had brought.
"Do you know what this is?"
Alex looked anywhere but him.
"You've seen me with it before, the day we met in the hospital." He sighed when she still wouldn't speak to him. "It's yours."
Alex rolled her head back against her shoulder. She glanced at the manila folder.
"Every foster home you've ever been in, you've run away. What are you running from?"
Not from. Alex's heart quickened as she thought of Ashley. To. Ashley was always home. But now there was no Ashley. And no home.
She bit her lip.
Alex kicked the chair out from under her and went to the door where the guard escorted her out. Mr. Michaels caught her elbow in the hall. "We want you to plead not guilty. See you at the arraignment."
Brooke leaned against the paddock fence where North Oak's weanlings were turned out. It was chilly, but the weather was nice enough for the young horses to play.
She clutched her grandfather's timer and studied them racing one another. She clicked the timer on and off, half-heartedly, thinking about Alex and how this would be more entertaining if they could watch it together.
Promenade came over a hill at a casual canter, then suddenly dug deep, ears flattened, and charged past two of his paddock mates. Brooke straightened. Her fingers twitched over the stopwatch, setting it off. She had mentally counted off two furlongs in the pasture, about four hundred and forty feet, and timed the colt as he spun by.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
Click.
She looked down at the watch as she stopped it when Promenade turned at the top of the pasture and skidded to a halt, tossing his mane and arching his neck.
Her eyes widened.
Twenty-two seconds.
The world record was a blink over twenty.
Her eyes climbed slowly upward to the colt across the way. He gazed back at her with an air like she wasn't even there, like he saw right through her. He snorted and his breath puffed white on the November air.
Joe sidled up beside her. "You gonna join us?"
She pretended not to hear him.
"North's going to slice the turkey soon. I know how much you like his wife's turkey."
"Still not talkin' to you, Pop."
"The girl's been gone three weeks. 'Not talkin' to you' is about all you've said since."
Brooke kept her eyes fixed on Promenade, even as he sauntered off after the other horses.
"There's sparkling cider and champagne." Joe tried to tempt her. "Hillary brought those cookies you love, and her girl made a pie. It actually looks good," he chuckled. He fell quiet for a while, resting a foot on one of the lower boards of the fence. "Come on, Brooke. It's Thanksgiving. Come be with your family."
"We need to bring her home. She needs a home." Her eyes bored into her grandfather. She half hoped laser rays would shoot from them and singe off his hair or something. "She needs a family."
She shoved the stopwatch into his hands. "That's Promenade for two furlongs. Alex won't want to miss the next year with him." She stormed away.
"It's not that simple," Joe called after her.
Alex shuddered as she slept in her cell, echoing the shiver from her nightly dream...
An icy pit formed in her stomach as she stared at DeGelder and the gun. "What have you done?"
DeGelder lifted the gun and aimed, and Alex suddenly didn't care if she lived or died anymore. A world without Ashley was no world at all. If she at least tried to stop this woman, it would be enough.
DeGelder pulled the trigger as Alex leapt at her.
Alex screamed.
DeGelder flew backwards as Alex tackled her to the ground. The gun released a bullet into the ceiling, matching the ka-pow Alex landed into the woman's throat. She wrestled the gun from DeGelder's fist.
Alex pinned DeGelder's shoulders to the floor beneath her knees, the barrel pointed at the woman's skull. DeGelder gasped for breath. "Do it."
Alex gritted her teeth, breathing hard. She cocked the gun, her finger trembling around the trigger. Her mind clouded.
"It's a dark world we live in," DeGelder muttered. "It's not worth living in. I certainly don't want to. I don't know why anyone would. Especially kids like you." She struggled beneath Alex, but Alex slammed her back against the floor again.
DeGedler laughed. "No one will ever love you. No one will ever want you. You will never find a place in this world. And do you know why?"
Alex bellowed in her face, still holding the gun tightly.
"We're the same you and I," DeGelder rattled. "I was you a long time ago. That's why I hate you. It's easy to hate ourselves."
Alex's breathing slowed. Sensation returned to her gradually. Lies. "You're wrong." She spit on the woman. "Ashley loved me."
Alex banged her forehead against DeGelder's hard enough to ram it against the floor and knock the woman out. It would give her time to call the police. She searched the woman for a cell phone and dialed 911.
"Houston County Nine-One-One. What is the manner of your emergency?"
Alex hesitated. She looked over to where Ashley lay. She choked up. "I need help."
"What is the address and the emergency?"
"Ashley's dead." Alex shuddered. Tears overwhelmed her. She sobbed. "She's dead."
"Calm down, sweetheart. What's your address?"
Alex shut her eyes tight, trying to remember the address. It seemed to escape her. She got to her feet, legs trembling beneath her, and walked across the room. She thought she blurted out the address and hoped it would be understood. The dispatcher repeated the address back to her, and Alex nodded.
"Stay on the line with me honey. Who else is there with you?"
Alex stared at DeGelder.
"What's your name?" the dispatcher asked.
"Alexandra Anderson."
"Is anyone else there?"
Alex turned her back to DeGelder, almost afraid to look at Ashley again. She felt compelled to check on the others, to make sure they were okay.
"Are you still on the line?" the dispatcher buzzed.
Alex thought it had grown too quiet when a floorboard creaked behind her.
The dispatcher's voice crackled. "Alexandra? Are you still on the line?"
Alex swung round when DeGelder roared and charged toward her. She dropped the phone and fired the gun.
"Alexandra Paige Anderson, you are hereby called before the courts on two charges of first degree murder. The first: Vanessa DeGelder on the eighteenth of October, and second: Ashley Valiant, also on the eighteenth of October. Are you aware of these charges?" asked the judge.
Alex was sure her heart stopped beating. How could they charge her with Ashley's death? She sagged against Mr. Michaels who caught her just in time.
"Your Honor," said Mr. Michaels, "we waive any further reading of the arraignment at this time and wish to enter a plea." He steadied Alex, murmuring, "It's alright, just answer the question."
The room went into a spiral before Alex. How could she answer not guilty to one charge and guilty to another? I can't!
Her thoughts said one thing while her mouth spoke another, sounding hollow in her ears as though someone else said it. "Yes."
The judge leaned forward. "How do you plead?"
She didn't hesitate. "No contest."
Alex's attorney grabbed her elbow tightly. "I'm sorry, Your Honor," he said, "but I need a moment with my client."
"Of course."
Mr. Michaels glared at Alex. He lowered his head to hers. "You were told to plead not guilty," he hissed.
"But I am guilty," Alex muttered. "I shot DeGelder, and I don't regret it. I can't say guilty to Ashley, though. I'd never-"
"No. You're innocent until proven guilty." Mr. Michaels turned back to the judge. "Your Honor, my client wishes to try that again. Isn't that right, Mr. Abrams?"
Mr. Michaels motioned to another attorney standing close to him. "My associate, Mr. Abrams has been appointed as Alexandra's Guardian Ad Litem."
"I'll allow it. How does she plead?"
Mr. Michaels blew out a breath and smoothed his tie. "Not guilty, Your Honor. Furthermore, I motion for a speedy trial."
"Granted," the judge said.
"We are also willing to waive preliminary hearing."
"Your Honor," the prosecuting attorney interjected for the first time in the hearing. "The state requests bail set at two million dollars."
"Very well, sir. Bail is set at two million dollars." The judge banged his gavel.
Alex gulped audibly. Mr. Michaels cleared his throat, pressing his tie to his broad chest, and leaned closer to the podium. "Two million, Your Honor?"
"Mr. Prosecutor?" the judge deferred.
"Your Honor, Miss Anderson is charged with the heinous crimes of killing a sibling and their guardian." The prosecutor rattled on, "She is a threat to the public and a proven flight risk."
"I tend to agree," said the judge, smacking his gavel a second time with finality.
Alex cringed beneath Mr. Michaels's gaze that said more than she wanted to hear. Way to go, genius.
Steven clenched his phone so tightly, his knuckles were white. "What do you mean they won't lower it? Where am I supposed to come up with two million dollars?"
"Didn't you just win the Breeders Cup or something?" Mr. Michaels asked on the other end of the line.
Steven sucked in a breath. "I need that money. North Oak needs that money. I've got bills to pay. The nomination fee for the race alone...."
"I'm sorry. I tried to get it lowered, I really did. But she's a flight risk. She's not going anywhere unless you can come up with the money. Once we prove her innocence, you'll get the money back. She is innocent, right?"
Steven ran a shaking hand through his hair and leaned against the stall of the training barn where he'd taken the call. His heart hammered. Before his attorney could tell him anything more, Steven flung the phone down the aisle. It shattered the instant it hit the cement.
Horses spooked. Feed and water buckets clunked in surprise. Steven turned to Venus Galaxies. Where am I going to get that kind of money?
The mare's ears pricked forward as though she could hear his thoughts. Steven stared at her. A thought sank in. Winning any Breeders Cup race increased a horse's value exponentially. Winning broodmares could easily go for three, four, even five million when the economy was good. Two million bucks was standing right in front of him.