Every head in the room turned again to the double doors, and Lou felt hot breath in his ear that smelled like coffee and bacon. “April Fools,” Dick said, nudging Lou’s elbow with his own and snickering.

Lou Horn felt the unmistakable twinge in his scrotum that he always absorbed every time he heard the echo of the General’s footsteps. He wondered how many other men in this room had the same reaction and what the corresponding vibe was for the smattering of female defense attorneys. The General didn’t cut anybody slack. If there was a dog in the room, Lou figured the animal would be whining and pissing a puddle on the floor.

“Shit,” he said.

As the sound of the clicks grew louder and Lou saw her walk through the opening, Dick Selby muttered, “Have you ever figured out where she parks her broom?”

It was an old joke, and Lou didn’t laugh. For once, he was more afraid of his client, who was expecting a settlement today, than he was of the woman striding down the aisle.

“Shit,” he repeated.

Helen Evangeline Lewis relished the look of fear she saw in her colleagues’ eyes. The familiar expression sent electricity through her bloodstream and, in truth, was the only feeling anymore that gave her a high. Better than alcohol. Better than sex, though it had been years since she had felt that sensation. To be respected was wonderful, but to be feared was divine. Part of the feeling was the power of her office. She was the district attorney general of the Twenty-Second Judicial Circuit, which comprised the counties of Giles, Maury, Lawrence, and Wayne. The lawyers in this courtroom represented clients whose futures could rest in her decision whether to deal or go to trial. But she knew that wasn’t entirely it. The attorneys didn’t just fear the office. They feared her.

She walked slowly, her back straight and her head completely still, just as her mother had taught her when she was a teenager entered in every beauty contest in southern Tennessee. She had never won a single event, though she had gotten third place in Ms. Teen Giles County. But the training in posture and stride had served another purpose: it had given her poise, confidence, and discipline, which she had later relied on to succeed in the male-dominated world of law.

The color of Helen’s hair, which fell to her shoulders, was midnight black, and her skin was pale. She wore a black suit and matching high heels, with lips painted bright red. The outfit was her trademark, so to speak, and she figured there were few attorneys in Giles County who could remember her wearing anything different to court. She knew the clothes added to her aura, and oddly enough, it was her ex-husband, Butch, who had unwittingly suggested the look.