She heard her name called by many different voices. Her name sounded ugly. Though her eyes stayed steady, looking straight ahead as she walked up the courthouse steps, Tara was aware of the faces around her. Curious faces, angry faces. Mouths opening and closing and saying things that she couldn't quite make out. Tara pushed away a microphone without hostility. She muttered no comment like a mantra, but stopped when it was clear no one was paying attention. She was almost to the door when someone cut through the clutter, someone caught her attention. In fact, the man caught everyone's attention. The roar faded to a murmur and Tara, surprised by the sudden quiet, stopped. The man stepped forward. He didn't put out his hand.

He had no microphone. He had with him children.

Four beautiful children.

They didn't really need an introduction but he made it anyway.

"I'm Marge Hogan's husband. These are her children. The ones that were born." Tara remained silent. She couldn't look at the little ones so she held the man's gaze. His eyes were red rimmed She was sure they had looked that way since his wife's murder.

"Why didn't you just turn him in? Why didn't you put an end to this?"

"Mr. Hogan, I couldn't," Tara said quietly.

"I was bound by the law, by an oath I took."

"That's more important than us? Than these kids? Keeping your word to a killer is more important than letting a good woman rest? What kind of woman are you?"

Tara lowered her eyes then looked at him once more.

"I'm an attorney, Mr. Hogan. This is the United States, and everyone has their rights."

"What about my wife's right to live, lady?"

Tara couldn't listen any longer. She'd never put a face to a crime the way this man forced her to do. She walked through the courthouse doors, a roar of disapproval following her. Behind her, two guards stood well within view of the crowd. She felt their opinion as she pa.s.sed. Putting her briefcase on the conveyor belt, Tara walked through the metal detector. No one spoke to her, but everyone looked. She wanted the day over, but it had to begin first.

Pulling open the door, Tara walked into the courtroom where Woodrow Weber sat confidently at the prosecutor's table. Behind him was Charlotte, dressed in an exquisite blue dress. Everything was in place: her pearls, her poise, her loyalties.

She offered Tara a sad, pitying smile that was all mixed up with a little chin-lift of encouragement.

Across the aisle to the right. Donna looked chic in a black dress piped with gold. Tara walked past her slowly, knowing she would stop at any sign that Donna was willing to talk. Tara was through the bar and into the well. Donna hadn't even bothered to lift a finger. Behind her, there was a murmur of excitement from those counting themselves lucky to be at this impromptu hearing. She put her briefcase on the counsel table and suddenly the room was silent.

Bill Hamilton appeared, escorted into the court by a female bailiff.

G.o.d only knew what people were thinking as they gazed upon this man. Did they think Bill Hamilton handsome? Did the women sigh at his smile? Were they curious about him? Frightened of him? Tara had thought and felt all these things for so long, she no longer felt anything.

Tara let him be placed next to her, stopping the bailiff before she unlocked Bill Hamilton's shackles.

After the hearing, they could do as they pleased. While he sat next to her, he would be chained.

"Come on, little lady," Bill cajoled.

She would have preferred him gagged.

Bill settled back with a chuckle when she ignored him. He was turning to flash Donna a smile when the court was called to order. Judge Timothy De Mar presiding. People stood. People sat. The judge spoke.

"In the case of The People vs. Hamilton, counsel, please make your appearance for the record."

Woodrow stood straight and ready.

"Good morning, Your Honor, Woodrow Weber on behalf of the people."

He nodded to Woodrow, then swiveled toward Tara.

"For the defense?"

"Tara Limey for defendant Hamilton, who is present in custody before the court." Tara's fingertips touched the table. She was tired.

"Good morning, Your Honor."

" "Morning, Ms. Limey. Now, shall we see what we have here?" The judge tucked his hands in the wide sleeves of his robe. Tara remained standing.

He looked at her frankly.

"This hearing has been placed on calendar at your request, Ms. Limey.

We weren't set for pretrial conference *til next month.

As I'm sure counsel is aware, this court is very busy and doesn't look favorably upon hearings being scheduled on short notice. You wreak mayhem on my clerk's schedule and she didn't become a public servant in order to work." Those in attendance chuckled politely. Judge De Mar seemed pleased.

Then he got down to business.

"What's so important, counsel?"

Tara swallowed, the laughter grating on her nerves. It had been a long few weeks. The end of her personal trial was in sight and it pained her that no one truly understood the import of this moment. She cleared her throat.

"Your Honor, I respectfully request to be relieved as counsel of record. I believe my client has the means necessary to retain a new lawyer."

To her right, almost, but not quite out of her view, Bill Hamilton started then caught himself.

Slowly a grin spread across his face. She heard him whisper "hot d.a.m.n." He may have terrorized her, but she had the last laugh. She had sucker punched him. Judge De Mar didn't miss a trick.

"Is your client aware of this request, Ms. Limey?"

"No, Your Honor. I only made the final decision early this morning."

De Mar began to take notes.

"I a.s.sume there's justification for this change considering your actions may be detrimental to your client."

Tara smiled wryly, her eyes trained on the bench.

She had no desire to look at Woodrow and see the triumphant look on his face. He would never know that he hadn't beaten her. She couldn't look at Bill Hamilton and have him a.s.sume that his evil had sent her running. She wouldn't try to explain that it was heartache, pure and simple, that had done her in. Those she loved had turned against her. Albuquerque no longer felt like home, her house was no longer warm and welcoming. She was so angered by all this, so hurt that there could be no heartfelt explanation. If she tried, her words would be turned around and against her. Holding her head high, she said clearly: "Your Honor, my continued representation of this client would certainly be to his detriment. I believe a new attorney would be in his best interest at this time."

The Judge shook his head and said to Tara, "I'm sure you're aware that such a request is highly unusual, especially given the fact that your decision seems to come as a shock not only to this court, but to your client as well. I'll need a reason, Ms.

Limey, and it better be a good one."

"It's the best, Your Honor. Mr. Hamilton is charged with a serious crime. He needs an attorney that can aggressively and effectively speak on his behalf. This man needs attorneys who can devote their best efforts to his defense and make sure that all of his rights are fully protected." Tara's eyes flickered to the table. It was hard for her to speak. When she raised her eyes, they were moist.

It was difficult to admit she was not all she had thought herself to be.

"I thought I was that counsel.

I am not, Your Honor. In all seriousness and candor I make this request and ask the court to relieve me. Allow a new attorney who will be best able to do what is necessary in this case."

The man on the bench sighed and put his chin on his upturned hand.

"Mr. Hamilton, do you understand what your attorney is asking?"

"Yep. Think it's darn cowardly of her. Darn cowardly, Yer Honor. I thought this little lady had more guts than that." Suddenly Bill was up, the shackles binding him from ankle to waist, and waist to wrist, rattled like the ghost of Christmas past. Tara ducked, her arms instinctively covering her face. There was a collective gasp.

De Mar called, "Bailiff."

The bailiff moved like lightning.

But no one was fast enough for Bill. He was sitting back down, grinning up at her, before anyone could reach him. Donna had reached over and touched his shoulder, calming him with all her maternal and l.u.s.tful energy. Bill laughed.

"Yeah, I understand, Yer Honor," he drawled crudely.

Timothy De Mar mouth dropped, then twisted into an angry grimace as he controlled his courtroom and his temper.

"This court finds there has been an irrevocable breakdown in the attorney-client relationship. I believe any further representation by Tara Limey of William Hamilton would not be in the defendant's best interest. I do relieve Ms. Limey as attorney of record." De Mar took a breath, calming himself.

Tara almost smiled. How often had she had that delayed reaction after one of Bill's little misbehaviors?

But De Mar would get over it. She might not.

He was talking again, to Bill.

"How long will it take you to retain new counsel?"

"Not long, I should think, Judge. I'd say there's going to be some press in this, wouldn't you? Couple of attorneys probably out there right now lookin' to take me on."

The man on the bench stared at Bill Hamilton while giving the nod to Tara.

"Thank you, Ms. Limey. You are excused. Please turn over all of your files when contacted by the new attorney so there will be no delay. I think this is one I'd like to see settled as expediently as possible."

"I would think so, Your Honor," Tara answered quietly.

"Thank you. Your Honor." She picked up her briefcase and turned her back on Bill Hamilton.

Tara saw Donna Ecold's eyes trained on the madman she needed more than she needed Tara's friendship. Tara didn't hesitate. She walked down the aisle and pushed through the doors. She suffered the anger that greeted her outside. And through it all, through the din and the accusations and the anger, she heard the sound that made everything all right. She heard the horn and saw the green van. Tara Limey walked right to it, jos- ded right and left, finally managing to get in and behind the door.

"Where to?" Ben asked.

"Anywhere, Ben," Tara said.

"Anywhere but here." He spun the wheel and the van pulled away from the courthouse. Tara still looked out the window.

Ben let her be. Finally, she found her voice.

"It will never be the same, Ben," she whispered.

"No," he answered.

"But it will be good again.

I promise."

Tara turned her head and looked at Ben Crawford. She reached for his hand, closed her eyes, and knew, without question, that he was right. Of all of them, she and Ben would have a life worth living again.

end.