Prosecuting Attorney Sylvia Mason squinted as she stepped through the double doors of the courthouse directly into the sunlight. Shuffling through her purse for her sunglasses case, she groaned. It was time for a smaller bag.
After finding her sunglasses, she had to make it down the steps and to her car. Then she could breathe. Her feet throbbed, and she couldn’t wait to get out of her three-inch heels. As a shorter-than-average bi-racial woman working in a fast-paced professional environment, wearing heels helped with her self-confidence.
She frowned. Prosecuting teenage girls for killing someone while texting and driving hadn’t been on her list of top cases, but that had been her life for the past few weeks.
It had only taken the jury three hours to find Sydney Clark guilty of Vehicular Manslaughter. She would serve a year, maybe two at the most. But poor Evangeline Morales would never have another chance at life.
About like her so-called dead husband, Lee Mason. Killed in the line of duty as an undercover policeman two years earlier. Would he ever have another chance at life? All the Investigators found at the crime scene was a pile of Lee’s blood and a bullet shell. They concluded he wouldn’t have survived the loss of so much blood.
Maybe the fact that his body was never found kept her from seeing closure. From dealing with his death. Everyone thought his body had been dumped in Pensacola Bay, but there was no proof.
She’d considered using her savings to hire a team of divers. If she could only find his body, perhaps the guilt of having feelings for someone else wouldn’t be so hard to deal with.
Even if they found Lee, would she stop fighting her feelings for Alvin Griffin? Alvin. The man had stuck by her side through every hardship since Lee died. The man she pushes away at every turn.
Hiring a dive team is what she would do. For her closure, but also for her twin boys. They deserved to know for sure whether their daddy was alive or not.
Finally, her hand wrapped around the sunglasses case, and she slipped on her Ray-Bans. A red Ford Taurus slowed down, and a man blew a slow whistle. She ignored the whistling and kept walking down the steps. Rap music blared out of a white Camaro as a young woman pulled into a parking spot across the street.
Sylvia waved at two policemen standing across the street. They needed to tell the girl to turn her music down. But they were too busy talking. One looked six feet tall, while the other was a foot shorter and stocky. They waved back, and she headed in their direction.
She’d made it halfway down the steps when sobbing came from behind her. She turned to see who it was. A flash of hands came at her, connecting with her cheek. Her head snapped sideways from the unexpected blow, and her Ray-Bans flew off her face. Gasping, she raised a hand to her throbbing cheek.
The defendant’s mother, Maria Clark, let out a cry and wrapped her hand around the bun atop Sylvia’s head. “You ruined Sydney’s life!”
Sylvia didn’t cause Sydney Clark to text and drive. That was her own doing. And she would not allow herself to be accosted without protecting herself. Sylvia threw her bag down, dug her fingernails into Maria’s chin, and jerked her face sideways. Maria let out a screech and tried to bite Sylvia’s arm.
Sylvia punched Maria in the side of her head. It didn’t seem to faze the crazed woman. She rammed her head into Sylvia’s shoulder, burying her hand in Sylvia’s hair.
Sylvia lost her footing, and her knee slammed into the concrete step. Squealing, she grasped Maria’s bony arm, squeezing as hard as possible.
Maria landed on the concrete by Sylvia and piled on top of her. Sylvia raised her forearms and wiggled her right leg out from under Maria.
By then, both police officers had made it up the steps. The taller one wrapped his arms around Maria, pulling her away from Sylvia and down the courthouse steps.
Sylvia rubbed the side of her head and tucked a long dark piece of hair behind her ear. More strands lay balled up in Maria’s bony hand.
The last thing Sylvia expected was to be attacked by the defendant’s mother. The woman had sat in the courtroom dressed to kill, looking like a flea market version of Sarah Jessica Parker during the trial. She’d hung on every word and taken notes as Sylvia built a case to prosecute Sydney Clark.
Sydney had emulated her mother’s attitude during the trial. At one point, she’d looked so bored as she played with her fingernails while the only witness gave their testimony. Her best friend, LeAnne Ewing, testified that she’d asked Sydney to stop texting while behind the wheel.
“You devil!” Maria screamed in Sylvia’s direction as the police officer fought to keep her under control. “You’ll get yours!”
Itching to jump on the woman, Sylvia raised her hands to her face and took in a few deep breaths. A lady from church had told Sylvia about a calming app she’d been using to keep her from losing her mind when her sixth-grade students acted up. That app would come in handy about now!
Sylvia’s stomach hitched when the second officer pulled his taser out. Sylvia could slap her face off but wouldn’t stand by and let her get tased. Jumping in between the officer and Maria, Sylvia put her hands up. “Hold on a minute!”
Maria’s hands dropped to her sides, and her lips trembled. “My baby girl’s going to prison.”
The officer shook his head. “This woman assaulted you, Miss Mason.”
Putting her hand up to her cheek, Sylvia winced. “Believe me, I know. But I don’t think being forceful is necessary.” She paused and glared at Maria. “Or is it?”
Fixating her seething gaze on Sylvia, Maria spat, “It’s not.” Her thin lips lifted into a sneer.
“Do you want us to take her in or not?” The first officer asked.
Glancing at the officer holding the taser, Sylvia nodded. “She did assault me.”
