Chapter 13: The Judge from Before
The courthouse smelled like old paper and polished wood. Noah stood outside Judge Hawthorne’s chambers, staring at the frosted glass door. The secretary glanced up from her desk.
“You can go in now, Mr. Keene.”
Noah pushed the door open.
Judge Hawthorne was already standing, his hand outstretched. “Mr. Keene. I’ve heard of you.”
Noah shook his hand. The grip was firm, cold. “I’m sure you have.”
“Sit,” Hawthorne said, motioning to the chair across from his massive oak desk.
Noah sat. “I’m representing Isaiah Reed and Jordan Langston. I assume you’ve been briefed.”
The judge leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. “Briefed? Yes. Impressed? No.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “You haven’t seen the evidence.”
“I don’t need to,” Hawthorne replied. “Bellview is a small town. People talk. And more importantly, patterns repeat themselves.”
“What patterns?” Noah asked.
“Your father,” Hawthorne said simply.
Noah’s chest tightened. “What about him?”
“James Keene was—” the judge paused, choosing his words carefully, “—a man who liked to chase shadows. Always convinced there was more to a case than there was. That obsession… made him unstable.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “Unstable, or inconvenient?”
Hawthorne’s lips curved faintly, but it wasn’t a smile. “Call it what you want. His inability to let go… ruined him. And if you’re smart, you won’t follow the same path.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” Noah said, though the words felt heavier than he wanted.
The judge’s gaze was sharp. “Aren’t you? Two boys accused of violent crimes. You swoop in, convinced there’s some grand conspiracy. Bellview has a long memory, Mr. Keene. It doesn’t forgive troublemakers.”
“I’m not here to make trouble,” Noah said. “I’m here for the truth.”
Hawthorne leaned forward, voice low. “Truth is slippery. The more you chase it, the more it runs. And in this town, the people who chase it… often fall on their faces.”
“Or they find it,” Noah countered.
The judge shook his head slowly. “If you dig deep enough, you’ll find something. But the deeper you dig, the more dangerous it gets. That’s not a warning, Mr. Keene. That’s a fact.”
Noah stood. “Then I guess I’ll have to see for myself.”
Hawthorne didn’t rise. “If I were you, I’d focus on cutting a deal. Keep the trials short. Keep the press quiet. Spare everyone the drama.”
“And if I were you,” Noah said, “I’d stop assuming history repeats itself just because it’s easier than asking why it happened the first time.”
A flicker of irritation crossed the judge’s face. “Your father thought he was untouchable too. The difference is, he had nothing left to lose. You still do.”
Noah’s eyes didn’t leave his. “We’ll see about that.”
He turned and walked to the door. His hand was on the knob when Hawthorne’s voice stopped him.
“One more thing, Mr. Keene.”
Noah glanced over his shoulder.
“If you keep going the way you are… there are people in Bellview who won’t just ruin your career. They’ll ruin you. Completely.”
Noah met his gaze, unflinching. “Then they’d better be ready for me to ruin them first.”
The judge smiled faintly—cold, knowing. “Careful. That’s exactly what your father said.”
Noah left the room without another word. But as he walked down the courthouse steps into the gray afternoon, his father’s old warnings rang louder in his head than ever before.