Everyone. The word was Divine inspiration; James sensed it. But it wasn’t useful. Everyone was completely too broad. How would James narrow down everyone? He nodded to Ms. Wexler, and as he left her, he promised he’d do whatever he could to prove Travis’s innocence.

~*~

Sunlight penetrated the clouds as James made his way to the courthouse, and melting snow glistened off the wet asphalt. James lowered the truck’s visor to help dissipate some of the glare.

The courthouse parking lot was full; it took him a good five minutes to find a parking spot. He wondered absently what so many people needed with the legal system this close to Christmas.

He entered the stark, grey cinderblock building and made his way to the Office of the Public Defender. James approached the makeshift window, but the clerk did not look up from her task. James leaned over. “Hi.”

The woman finished what she was doing before looking at him.

“Hi, yeah,” he said. “How would I find the lawyer assigned to a particular case?”

“What case?”

“Travis Wexler. He was involved in—”

“That’s Paula Roggin.”

“And how would I find her?”

“Who are you?” The clerk gave him a skeptical look.

“Friend of the defendant.”

The clerk seemed to relax a little. “Well, it’s your lucky day.” She glanced behind him, her gaze travelling as she pointed.

James turned just as a woman bustled past him, her briefcase poised, her suit plain. “Thank you,” James said to the clerk before hurrying to catch up with the public defender.

“Paula, there’s somebody to see you,” the clerk said as Paula Roggin arrived at her desk.

James approached.

“Three minutes,” she said in a rush as she opened her briefcase on the desk. “I have to get back to court.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her rushed pace and gruff tone had derailed his train of thought. “Uh—”

“Clock’s ticking.”

“My name’s James Moore. I’m over from Kipling. You’re representing a friend of mine.”

Roggin looked up then, her attention finally focused on James. “Travis Wexler,” she said.

“Right.”

“What do you want?” She sat back in her chair and waited for him to speak. He might have her full attention for the moment, but she was clearly still in a rush.

“Well, first off, I don’t think he did it.”

She held up her palms. “You can stop right there. Mr. Wexler—Travis—he’s admitted to this. He’s legally confessed and the court has entered that confession.”

“I know, but sti—”

“Mr. Wexler’s been deemed legally competent, so that confession is now going to stand.” She turned away and started rifling through her briefcase again.

“So what happens now?” A thread of alarm travelled through James’s gut.

“Well in the next couple of weeks, the court will make its ruling official, and then he’ll be remanded to the appropriate facility in compliance with that ruling.” She packed files into her briefcase and then snapped it closed.

“What kind of facility? For how long?”