Chapter 59
CHAPTER
Bria Gaines
BULLOCK COUNTY COURTHOUSE UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
On Thursday morning, Bria was watching for Ben Meyers through her living room window. When she spotted his car coming down the street, she locked up the house and hurried down her front walk.
As she slid into the front seat, she looked over at him. “Thanks so much for the ride, Ben. It’s really not necessary.”
Meyers’s face was grim. “I’d say it’s absolutely necessary.”
Bria knew he was right. She was just putting on a brave front. After the first day of the trial, she’d returned to her car to find it dripping and smelling from rotten eggs. Someone had scrawled MURDERER on the front window and BURN IN HELL on the back.
After that, she’d steeled herself so that no one could hurt her.
That was the plan, anyway.
Meyers put some music on the radio to relax her. By now, he knew how much she loved Brandi Carlile. He cranked it up loud. They made the ten-minute drive without exchanging another word.
When they got into town, it was total chaos. There was no parking anywhere near the courthouse. Too many spectators. Too much press. Meyers took the first space he could find, in the parking lot of LuLu’s Diner. CUSTOMERS ONLY, the sign said. Sorry. Not today, LuLu.
As Bria walked with Meyers down Prairie Street toward the courthouse, she could see that a crowd had gathered, filling the sidewalk and spilling over onto the street.
Babbling voices were raised—some excited, some angry.
The atmosphere was charged with a dangerous kind of energy.
The trial hadn’t even commenced for the day, and downtown Union Springs was already a zoo.
Bria heard the chant. People were calling “Lock her up!”
She froze for a second on the sidewalk. That was when someone spotted her.
“There she is!”
Meyers grabbed her hand. “Run!”
They took off around the nearest corner, but a few people in the crowd took up the chase. Meyers kept a firm grip on her hand as they managed to dodge their pursuers, running down narrow alleys and then back up the hill to the rear of the courthouse.
An elderly Black woman in a custodian’s uniform stood near a back entrance, smoking a cigarette. Bria turned around. The pursuers were just yards behind.
“Aurora!” Meyers shouted. “Open the door!” The custodian yanked on the handle and waved them inside. Bria ducked through the door. She felt Meyers pushing her from behind. The door slammed shut. Bria could hear pounding and shouting from outside.
Meyers walked ahead to check out the hallway as Bria slumped against the wall, breathing hard from the run. Meyers came back and grabbed her arm. “Let’s skip the elevator, okay?”
Bria nodded. The outside doors would open soon, and an elevator was not a good place to get stuck with a bunch of haters.
Together, they headed for the back staircase and wound their way to the second floor.
When they approached the courtroom, it was still dark.
Bria peeked through the narrow glass panes on the double doors.
No lights on inside, and she couldn’t see a soul.
When Ben pulled on the brass handle, she knew the door wouldn’t open. No surprise. Just more bad luck.
Meyers looked down the hall. “The bailiff will be here any minute. You need a place to sit?”
Bria shook her head. She felt safer near the courtroom, even though it was the place where her adversaries intended to convict her. Maybe it was Judge Stone’s aura. For some reason, Bria really trusted her.
As much as she trusted anyone right now.
Meyers took his place alongside her against the marble wall as they waited. Bria stood quietly, trying to distract herself—until she couldn’t wait any longer.
“Ben,” she said. “I need to use the restroom. And no, you can’t come with me.”
She stepped away from the wall and turned left down a corridor. The ladies’ room was about halfway down, behind a thick oak door with gilt lettering.
Bria pushed the door open. An automatic sensor turned the lights on. The restroom was empty. She had the whole place to herself. A rare luxury.
Bria opened the first stall and closed the door. She lifted her skirt and slip and pulled down her underwear. As soon as she sat down, she heard the clatter of an elevator door from the hallway, and then the sound of rushing feet and voices.
Shit! They’d let the spectators in!
A few seconds later, she heard the ladies’ room door swing open as a pack of women surged in.
Bria could hear the other stalls opening and then slamming shut.
She could hear faucets turning on. She could smell perfume and hair spray.
She could hear snippets of conversation beneath the sound of industrial-strength hand dryers. Some of it was about her.
When she was done, Bria adjusted her clothes, opened the stall door, and moved quickly to the last sink in the row.
She didn’t look left or right, trying to keep from making eye contact.
She kept her head down, not even looking into the mirror.
In her peripheral vision, she could see four women reapplying lipstick and touching up their hair.
As Bria soaped her hands, someone shoved her hard, knocking her into the sink.
She looked to the right, over her shoulder.
In that instant, she felt someone grab her left arm.
She saw a white woman’s hand holding a red marker.
In a flash, the woman made a scrawl on Bria’s wrist. Bria jerked away.
“Don’t touch me!” But the stranger was already gone, the door closing behind her.
Bria didn’t take the time to blow her hands dry. She just shook them over the sink, then walked out of the restroom without looking back. As she left, she glanced down at the red scribble on her skin. It looked like an H drawn by a child. She pulled her blouse cuff down over it.
Ben Meyers was waiting on the other side of the hall. He briskly walked over to meet her. “Bria, what’s wrong? What happened?” Clearly, he could see it in her face.
She pulled him into an alcove and held up her wrist. “Somebody did this to me in there!” She nodded toward the restroom. “They wrote an H on me. Like a brand.”
Meyers lifted her hand and stared at the mark, his face creased with concern. He looked up. “That’s not an H, Bria. It’s a K.”