“I’m listed as part of the defense team, and I’m coming with you. Don’t even try to stop me. Elder looks scared.”

“Christ. All right.”

By the time we reach the judge’s inner sanctum, Joe Elder has already pulled off his robe and is holding a cell phone to his ear. He covers the mobile’s microphone with his finger and looks over at us.

“There’s been a bomb threat at my home. One of my children was there with the housekeeper. They’ve evacuated the house, the bomb squad is on its way. Both the ATF and FBI have been called. I suspect this is a hoax meant to disrupt the trial, but until I know that for sure, we’re in recess.”

While Shad gapes at the judge, Elder says, “I’m on my way” into the phone, then grabs his keys off the desk and heads for his receptionist’s office.

“Are you sure it was for your house?” Quentin asks, “and not the court?”

“The caller gave my address, but the ATF will search and scan the courtroom as well.”

“Did the caller say anything else?” Shad asks.

Joe Elder pauses in the doorway and looks back at us. “He said he wasn’t going to let a nigger judge jail a white man for killing a nigger without paying a price.”

“Shouldn’t we just adjourn for the day?” Shad asks.

Joe Elder cuts his eyes at Shad, not quite believing that the DA is trying to run tactics on him even now. “No, Mr. Johnson. I’m not letting anybody intimidate me into derailing this trial, no matter which side he’s on. Whatever it is you want to do, you’ve got one hour to do it.”

Then the door closes behind the judge.

Shad, Quentin, and I regard each other in silence. This turn of events has left our heads spinning, but all good trial lawyers know how to recover quickly from the unexpected, and even turn it to their advantage, as Shad just tried to do.

“What’s all this crap about another will?” he asks.

“Why don’t you ask your witnesses?” Quentin suggests.

“You obviously don’t have a copy of it. If you did, you’d already have entered it into evidence.”

“Like that adrenaline ampoule nobody could find?”

I’m glad to hear this retort, because until I did, I didn’t know Quentin had paid any attention to the forensic case.

Shad dismisses his comment with a wave of his hand. “I’ll bet we’re done for the day.”

“You hope we are.” Quentin gives him a strange smile. “You didn’t have somebody call in that bomb threat, did you? I think you feel the ground shifting, Shadrach.”

Shad jabs his middle finger at Quentin, then turns and marches out of the room without a word.

“What do you make of this?” I ask.