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tling。 Huskey wanted to reach down and hug him； but with judicial restraint he limited the contact to a soft handshake。
〃How are you； Karl？〃 Patrick said； keeping his seat。
〃I'm fine。 And what about you？〃
〃I've had better days； but it is good to see you。 Even under these circumstances。〃
〃Thanks。 I can't imagine…〃
〃Guess I look different； don't I？〃
〃You certainly do。 I'm not sure I would recognize you on the street。〃
Patrick only smiled。
Like a few others who still professed some level of friendship for Patrick； Huskey felt betrayed； but even more so he felt great relief in knowing that his pal was not dead。 He was deeply worried about the capital murder charge。 The divorce and the civil suits could be dealt with； but not murder。
Because of their friendship； Huskey would not preside over the trial。 He planned to handle the preliminary matters； then step aside long before the important rulings were due。 There had already been a story about their history。
〃I assume you will enter a plea of not guilty；〃 he said。
〃Yes； that's correct。〃
〃Then it will be a routine first appearance。 I'll deny bail since it's capital murder。〃
〃I understand； Karl。〃
〃Whole thing won't take ten minutes。〃
〃I've been here before。 The chair will be different； that's all。〃
In twelve years on the bench； Judge Huskey had often been astonished at the amount of sympathy he could muster for average people who'd mitted heinous crimes。 He saw the human side of their suffering。 He saw guilt eat them alive。 He'd sent to prison hundreds of people who； if given the chance； would have left his courtroom and never sinned again。 He wanted to help； to reach out； to forgive。
But this was Patrick。 His Honor was almost moved to tears at the moment。 His old friend…bound and dressed in a clown suit； eyes covered； face altered； nervous and twitchy and scared beyond words。 He'd like to take him home； feed him some good food； let him rest； and help him pull his life together。
He kneeled next to him； and said； 〃Patrick； I can't hear this case； for obvious reasons。 Right now I'll handle the preliminary stuff to make sure you're protected。 I'm still your friend。 Don't hesitate to call。〃 He patted him very gently on the knee； hoping he didn't touch a raw spot。
〃Thanks； Karl；〃 Patrick said； biting his lip。
Karl wanted eye contact； but it was impossible with the sunglasses。 He stood and headed for the door。 〃Everything's routine today； Counselor；〃 he said to Sandy。
〃Are there a lot of people out there？〃 Patrick asked。
〃Yes； Patrick。 Friends and enemies alike。 They're all out there。〃 He left the room。
THE COAST had a long and rich history of sensational murders and notorious criminals； so crowded courtrooms were not unmon。 No one could remember； though； such a packed house for a simple first appearance。
The press had arrived early and taken the good seats。 Since Mississippi was one of the remaining few states with the good sense to ban cameras from the courtroom； the reporters would be forced to sit and watch and listen； then put in their own words what they saw。 They would be forced to be real reporters； a task for which most of them were ill…equipped。
Every big trial attracted the regulars…clerks and secretaries from courthouse offices； bored paralegals； retired cops； local lawyers who hung around most of the day； sipping free coffee in the clerks' offices； gossiping； examining real estate deeds； waiting for a judge to sign an order； doing anything to stay away from the office…and Patrick attracted all these and more。
In particular； there were many lawyers present just to get a glimpse of Patrick。 The papers had been filled with stories about him for four days now； but no one had seen a current photo。 Rumors were rampant about his appearance。 The torture story had elevated curiosity even more。
Charles Bogan and Doug Vitrano sat together in the middle of the pack； as close to the front as they could get。 The damned reporters beat them to the courthouse。 They wanted to be on the front row； near the table where the defendant always sat。 They wanted to see him； to make eye contact； to whisper threats and vulgarities if at all possible； to spit as much bile as they could in this civilized setting。 But they were five rows back； waiting patiently for a moment they thought would never e。
The third partner； Jimmy Havarac； stood along the back wall and chatted quietly with a deputy。 He ignored the stares and glances from people he knew； many of whom were other lawyers who secretly had been delighted when the money vanished and the firm lost its fortune。 It would have been； after all； the largest single fee earned by any firm in the history of the state。 Jealousy was the natural tendency。 He hated them； as he hated virtually everyone else in the courtroom。 A bunch of vultures waiting for a carcass。
Havarac； the son of a shrimper； was still stout and crude and not beyond a barroom brawl。 Five minutes alone with Patrick in a locked room； and he'd have the money。
The fourth partner； Ethan Rapley； was at home in the attic； as usual； working on a brief in support of some insipid motion。 He would read about it tomorrow。
A handful of the lawyers were old buddies who came to cheer Patrick on。 Escape was a mon； usually unspoken； dream of many small…town lawyers trapped in an overcrowded； boring profession where expectations were too high。 At least Patrick had the guts to chase the dream。 There was an explanation for the dead body； they were sure of that。
Arriving late and pushed into a corner was Lance。 He had loitered around back with the reporters； taking the measure of the security。 It was quite impressive； at least for now。 But could the cops keep it up every day during a long trial？ That was the question。
Many acquaintances were present； people Patrick had known only in passing but who now suddenly claimed to have been his dearest friends。 Some in fact had never met Patrick； but that didn't stop their idle chatter about Patrick this and Patrick that。 Likewise； Trudy suddenly had new friends who had stopped by to scowl at the man who had broken her heart and abandoned precious little Ashley Nicole。
They read paperbacks and scanned newspapers and tried to look bored； as if they didn't really want to be there。 There was movement among the deputy clerks and bailiffs near the bench； and the courtroom instantly grew quiet。 The newspapers were lowered in unison。
The door next to the jury box opened and brown uniforms poured into the courtroom。 Sheriff Sweeney entered； holding Patrick by the elbow； then two more deputies； then Sandy brought up the rear。
There he was！ Necks strained and stretched and heads bobbed and weaved。 The courtroom artists went to work。
Patrick walked slowly across the courtroom to the defense table； his head down； though from behind the sunglasses he was searching the spectators。 He caught a glimpse of Havarac on the rear wall； his scowling face speaking volumes。 And just before he sat he saw Father Phillip； his priest； looking much older but just as amiable。
He sat low； his shoulders sagging； chin down； no pride here。 He did not look around because he could feel the stares fro