Chapter 3
3
George Hiller was standing outside the clerk’s office, flipping through a thick file of documents like he had all the time in the world when Judge Holland Felner was almost finished for the day.
Hiller was damned hard to miss. Of the four attorneys in this town, Hiller was the one that got under his skin the most. Even that giant bastard Hudson Hannan, three or four years younger than Hiller and three inches taller and massive, didn’t intimidate Holland as much as Max and Gayle Hiller’s oldest son.
Holland forced himself to step forward. His voice was strained when he spoke. “Hiller.”
Hiller looked up slowly. He hesitated just long enough to be considered rude and disrespectful. “Judge Felner.”
Holland hated the way Hiller said his name, like he was something distasteful. The man needed to be put in his place, but Holland kept that thought to himself. Life would do that soon enough. It always did. “You’re spending a lot of time in the clerk’s office.”
Hiller didn’t move, didn’t smile. His expression darkened. “Clerk quit recently. Haven’t replaced her yet. Now I’m just looking…for…things.”
Holland’s gaze dropped to the stack of papers in Hiller’s hand. He could see the familiar case numbers printed in neat black ink along the top. Tolben’s case, sure as hell. He felt his stomach churn. “Seems to me that some things are better left alone.”
Holland knew what was coming next. If Hiller filed a motion for a new trial within the next two weeks—Holland would be up to his eyeballs in problems. There were still legal remedies a smart attorney could take. And this was one of the smartest he had ever battled against.
“I’m sure some people think that.” He tapped a finger against the folder. “But I’m not one of them.”
It was as good as a gauntlet thrown down between them. Holland wasn’t stupid.
Hiller was just getting started.
Holland forced a smile. Forced himself not to show exactly what he felt now. “You’ve always been persistent.”
Hiller tilted his head slightly. “I believe in seeing things through. Learning from my mistakes.”
“You’re wasting your time.” The ruling was as sound as he could make it without getting it
Hiller’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “Time’s never wasted when it’s spent doing the right thing.”
Holland’s pulse jumped. That’s what scared him the most about Hiller. The man actually believed that nonsense. He was the type to dig until there was nothing left to find.
The type who didn’t take no for an answer.
“You’re poking around in old business. You should know better than anyone that cases don’t always go the way people want.”
“Cases should go the way the law says they should.” Hiller took a step closer, lowering his voice. “You made a mistake with the Tolben ruling.”
Hell, Holland knew he had. And it had destroyed that man’s life. But Holland had had no choice. “I made a ruling.”
“No. You made a mistake. And I’m going to fix it.”
“Not without Tolben’s cooperation.” And that was something Hiller wouldn’t get. Holland had sat the bench longer than this man had been alive. He refused to let himself be intimidated now. “Be careful, Hiller. Some things don’t need fixing.”
“Then maybe they need to be torn down instead.”
Holland took a step back. He was twice Hiller’s age, a hundred pounds lighter, and half a foot shorter. And Hiller was pissed. It was in his eyes. “I have to get back to my chambers.”
Hiller watched him for a moment longer before stepping aside. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your…work.”
By the time Holland reached his chambers, his hands were shaking so badly he could barely turn the key in the lock. He stumbled inside, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Damn Hiller.
He crossed the room in a few quick strides, yanking open the bottom desk drawer and pulling out the whiskey bottle he kept hidden there. His hands were shaking. Whiskey dropped to the wooden desk he’d sat at for thirty-five fucking years. It didn’t matter.
Everything was ruined now.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and dropped into his chair, staring at the pile of motions and legal briefs scattered across his desk. Hiller was too close. Too damned close.
His phone buzzed.
Holland took a deep breath before answering. “Judge Holland Felner.”
“Saw you talking to Hiller.”
Holland squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s... persistent.”
“ That’s one way to put it. But I have another word for it—problem.”
Holland swallowed hard. “I can handle Hiller.”
“You better. Because if you can’t, I will. Hate for something to happen to that pillar of the community. Such a shame, and all.”
Holland’s grip tightened on the phone. “There’s no need for that.”
Ward was silent for a moment. “We’ll see.”
Holland heard the line go dead before he could respond.
His gaze drifted to the motion sitting on his desk, the bold black letters of Hiller’s name staring up at him like an accusation.
He had to do something. And soon.
Before it was too late.