Robards, Karen by Midnight Hour Read Free Book Online Page A

headache.
    “My grandma died, see, and I couldn’t get to school, and—
    “Just a mmute, Mr. Boylan. I fail to see what your grandmother’s dying or your inability to get to school has to do with your stealing a car.” Grace’s voice was dry as she interrupted the sixteenyear-old boy who stood before her. He was a big boy, close to six feet call and two hundred pounds, she guessed, although it was hard to be certain of his height, at least, from her elevated seat at the front of the courtroom. He was dressed in an oversized white T-shirt with a blurry
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    silkscreen of some rock band on the front of it, baggy jeans, and untied sneakers. His greasy blond hair hung limply to his shoulders.
    My grandma died was the equivalent of the dog ate MY homework, excusewise. She had heard that one so many times in her three years on the bench that it held no water with her at all.
    Under her stern regard, he licked his lips and cast the lawyer standing at his side, a young black woman named Helia Shisler, a nervous glance.
    “Robert was very close to his grandmother-” Ms. Shisler began.
    Grace shook her head. “I want to hear it from him. Mr. Boylan? Would you care to explain how your grandmother’s death and your inability to get to school are related, and how they forced you to steal a car?”
    The kid chewed his lower lip before speaking. “Well, uh, my grandma, she drove me lots of places, and when she died she wasn’t there no more and I needed to get to school, see. “
    The pause as Grace considered the logic of that lasted no longer than a few seconds. There was no logic.
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Boylan, but didn’t you steal the car on a Saturday night? I wasn’t aware that schools were in session then.”
    “There was a dance,” the kid said. His lawyer looked pained.
    “It was his stepdaddy’s car, Your Honor. It weren’t stealing, exactly. He just forgot to ask pernuission before he took it, and it made his stepdaddy mad, and he called the police. It shouldn’t’ve happened.”
     
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    KAREN ROBARDS
    Grace looked past the boy to the woman who had risen to her feet just beyond the railing. Heavy-set, bottle-blond, with a ruddy, jowly face, she was perhaps thirty-five. Her black polyester pants and pink flowered blouse were a size too small. The blouse gaped open a little between the buttons securing it above and below her ample bosom, afFording Grace a glimpse of a sturdy white bra. She looked worn down, and her eyes were red-rim-med and bloodshot. From crying over her son? Grace wondered, then caught herself it was just as likely to be from a totally unrelated cause, like allergies, or a need for glasses, or a late night and too much beer.
    “You’re his mother?” The resemblance between the two was unmistakable.
    “Yes, ma’am, I am.” The woman’s voice was so soft that Grace had to strain to hear. “He’s a good boy, Your Honor. He shouldn’t’ve taken Gordon’s-my husband’s-car, but it wasn’t really stealing. Honest it wasn’t.
    Grace felt an unwelcome stab of sympathy for the woman.
    “Any priors?” she asked Herb Pruitt, the prosecuting attorney, brusquely.
    “He has one conviction for shophfting, Your Honor. And he’s a habitual truant. Nine days absent so far this school year.”
    As school had been in session just over a month, that was an impressive total.
    “Was it his stepfather’s car he stole?”
    The prosecutor looked down at his notes. “Yes, Your Honor.”
    “It wasn’t stealing, Your Honor. Gordon lets him
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    drive it sometimes, He was just mad.” The mother’s voice was pleading. Her eyes beseeched Grace. “Robby’s a good boy. He just … don’t think sometimes.”
    Ordinarily a parent would not have been allowed to speak out like that in Grace’s courtroom. She prided herself on running a tight ship. But as an embattled mother herself, Grace felt an unexpected kinship with the woman. There but for the