Beneath the Surface
The corridor was dimly lit, silent except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant creak of a janitor's cart rolling over tiles. I hovered near the door to Judge Donna's office, pretending to search for something, my keys, a pen, maybe even my mind. Anything to explain why I'd left my gate post without permission. But in truth, I was stalling. Waiting. Watching.
The office door, once closed tight, now stood ajar.
I glanced over my shoulder. No one. My pulse quickened. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
Was she connected to him?
My mother's ex-husband, a man whose name left a bitter aftertaste whenever it crossed my mind. Rumors swirled around him like flies over rotting meat. Money laundering, abuse of power, missing persons. And now, all clues seemed to point toward something, or someone, inside this very building.
I slipped inside and closed the door softly behind me. The scent of lavender oil and ink lingered in the air. Her office was immaculate, just as I remembered. Books arranged alphabetically. Case files stacked in symmetrical piles. Not a thing out of place.
Except me.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway. I didn't have time to think, I ducked under her desk, pressing my body into the shadows just as she entered.
Her heels clicked softly on the tile floor, and I watched through the gap in the desk as she crossed to her chair and sat down with a sigh. Her phone rang almost immediately.
"Judge Donna, are you serious with your decision?" a man's voice asked sharply over the speaker.
"Yes," she replied firmly, her voice steady, though I detected a tension beneath it. "I want to join the search for evidence. I can't sit still while people are suffering."
I held my breath. Join the search?
"It's too risky," the man argued. "Just do your job as a judge and let us do ours. I'll update you if anything new comes up."
She hesitated. "Alright. I'll do as you've said. But please, keep me informed about the governor."
Governor. That word hit me like a punch to the gut.
Anger coiled in my stomach, hot and bitter. Of course. She was still working with the governor. Still dancing to the tune of that corrupt, venomous man. She was probably part of the same dirty game, keeping the system rigged while the rest of us scraped by.
Or so I thought.
I didn't know then that Judge Donna wasn't a puppet, but a woman walking a tightrope, trying to balance justice and survival in a city full of liars.
Her phone rang again, snapping me back to the moment.
She answered quickly. "Hello?"
"Ma'am, it's the bar manager. There's been another incident."
I could hear the panic in his voice even through the phone's muffled speaker. "Some men stormed the bar. They trashed the place. Some of our workers were hurt."
"What?" Judge Donna shot to her feet, snatching her bag. "I'm on my way."
The door slammed behind her. I didn't wait. I shot out from beneath the desk and sprinted out of the office.
Lexy.
She worked at the bar. If there was trouble, if armed men had stormed the place, I had to know she was okay. I didn't care if leaving my post cost me my job, or worse. All I could think about was her safety.
---
By the time I reached the scene, chaos had already unfolded.
The bar was crawling with officers, their radios crackling with static as they questioned the staff and examined shattered glass and bullet holes. Flashing lights bathed everything in red and blue. People huddled together, crying or whispering in disbelief.
"What happened here?" Judge Donna asked as she approached the shaken manager.
"They were masked. Came in with guns. Started shooting, at the furniture, the walls… at us. Three of our female workers were hit."
Judge Donna's expression twisted with horror. "Three? Who?"
But I didn't wait for the answer.
I pushed past them, ignoring the calls behind me. My eyes scanned the crowd desperately until I saw her.
"Daven!" Lexy's voice broke through the noise. She was standing near the bar, her face streaked with tears, but alive. I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms as she collapsed into me.
Relief hit me so hard it stole my breath.
"I thought, God, I thought"
"They had guns," she choked out. "They just came in and started shooting. I tried to help everyone but" Her voice broke. "Vicky… my friend… she was shot. I don't know if she'll make it."
"Where is she?" I asked urgently. "Let's go see her."
Miss Donna stepped up beside us, her eyes unusually soft as she looked between Lexy and me.
"Lexy," she said, gently pulling her into a brief hug. "I'm so sorry."
She knew. The way she looked at us she knew something, more than she was saying. Maybe more than she could say.
As Lexy and I turned to leave, another voice called out.
"Judge Donna!"
The manager jogged over, clutching something in his hand. A folded note.
"One of the men left this behind," he said breathlessly, handing it to her.
She unfolded it slowly, her face pale as her eyes scanned the words. I couldn't see what it said, and for a moment I was tempted to look. But I knew better. The police would get it. They'd handle it. Or at least, that's what I told myself.
As the ambulance wailed in the distance and paramedics began loading the injured, I looked down at Lexy, who clung to my side like her world was unraveling.
She couldn't keep working there. Not after this.
This job wasn't just dangerous, it was a death sentence.
As we walked toward the hospital, I made a silent promise to myself: I would find a way to protect her. Even if it meant going against the very people we once trusted.