WINTER. 1980-81
Judge Milton Hakdcastle flipped open the file that lay on his desk and stared at the mugshot. It didn't help. If that face, with its cold-looking eyes and hard expression had been • in his courtroom today he wouldn't be having these second thoughts. But it· hadn't been face, and Hardcastle had caught himself looking twice to be sure they had brought in the right prisoner.
MCCORMICK, MARK J. had been anything but cold and hard in his courtroom appear ance and the Judge almost smiled as he remembered the scene. Jesus, what a rrouth that kid had on him. Vehemently insisting that he hadn't stolen the Porsche, that it was his to begin with. Interrupting his own court-appointed lawyer not to mention !;J;:ying to interrupt the prosecutor, Lllltil Hardcastle had finally threatened to rerrove him from tl_le courtroom if he didn't shut up.
1hat had done it and the tongue had stopped wagging; but the pout that took its place had been one for theooo s. Hardcastle . ':t_ was -supposecr to 7Se glare. Kid needed. to work on...that • i,t_was_going to have d. r - ..
As it was, the Judge had been ha_;'d-pres2aj _g.g _to ..fil"if!._.He was used to utting accusea crirmna s il'lt:nei-rpiace hawing.·them that they dJ.,Q...l).ot_run_the .. courtroom. He wasn' t:"7..ts-edco-tneaccused-Ioo -ba l,at_him with the expression of a t:_ year
old who thinks he..'.s_been-UI1justly _to]..g_ to _g9 st?fld in a corner. - -
That look wasn't the disturbing one though, the one that had him still sitting in his office and looking through a file long after he should have_ gone home. . The pout had faded as the prosecutor had pressed on, till finally the kid had just
seemed to deflate like a ten-cent balloon, obviously sensing that he didn't stand a
chance in hell of beating the rap.
'Now, 1 Hardcastle had thought, 'He '11 drop the "Poor little me" act, and I'll seetheguy in the mugshot.' It hadn't happened. It wa like t:l)e kid had some how clicked himself off; all the vibrant energy that brought into the court room draining away, leaving an empty shell for the Judge to pass sentence on.
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Hardcastle didn't like it, not one bit. He'd spent enough years on the bench that he1d seen it all. Every type of criminal trying to pull every type of scam. Anything for a 'Not guilty' , or even a lighter sentence. This one though this McCormick, wasn't pulling a scam. Hardcastle was as sure of that as he was his own name. McConnick was in the wrong, but he honestly couldn't see it. He'd got it through his head that it was his Porsche, regardless of vJl:lose name was on the ownership papers.
Shaking his head Hardcastle closed the folder. He hadn't had any choice when he
12_assed senten . Witfi McConnick' s previo re 9I_d gf_GTA, backed up by a juvie file,
two years was the minimum. So why the hell did he feel like he'd just sent to the slaugh erhouse? Maybe the kid was just a-gocxf·actor: Maybe. Damn. Something jusralan It feel right. ,.
He opened the file again anct picked up the mugshot. Cameras weren't supposed to lie. This one had. The kid-didn't look like that. Not yet, anyway. 'Yet.' could be a damn big vX)rd, though; and two years could be a very long time when you were only twenty-six Like McCormick.
Shit. He senteRced people to prison every day and hardly ever let it get to him. You couldn't do that, and be a good Judge. Had to keep your distance; your sense of detachment. So why the hell was this kid any different? Why was he sitting here staring at a damn file when he should be horre in his comfortable bed getting some well-earned sleep?
He couldn't understand it, except... there was something about the kid, some thing beneath the loud-mouthed exterior, that had been so damned likable! He'd been
so earnest in professing his innocence. All flailing anns and wide blue eyes and a voice that cracked whenever he got excited. Which was often. He was so damned alive! And he shouldn't have to lose that. The mugshot ?eemed lik:e a very -uncom fortable·preview. What the kid would look like if somebody didn't help him out. But there was no way . The law was the law. sentence: Two years.
Sighing heavily, Hardcastle red-tagged the folder. He was going to keep a close eye on this one.. Only thing he could do. Keep tabs, and hope it was enough. Damn. Of all the Judges in the district, why did he have to get McCormick? 1 S:nEl:xrly up there," he muttered as he put the file away, 'Toes not like me."
Leaving the office, he turned off the light and headed for his pickup, ready for the long trek out to Malibu. He hoped he'd be able to sleep... but he had a feeling he wouldn't.
He was right.
FALL, 1983
Hardcastle smiled as he looked up at the Gatehouse window. The kid played a good garre of B-Ba.11. He'd figured that he would. Help get him over the first night jitters. And despite Sara's protests, and McCormick's smart mouth, he wasn't gonna stick him in the gardener 1 s trailer. Couldn't really say why. Just didn't seen r.i.g:t:.
F\.mny how things worked out. If you believed in Fate, which, of course, he didn't you could almost think that had something to do with it. He smiled as the light in the Gatehouse clicked off. Better go get some sleep himself, since God only knew what the morning would bring. Sanehow, and it was just a feeling, he knew that life with Mark McCormick wouldn't be dull.
It wasn't.