2019.

Gracie received a text from Brianna:

Heard you aren’t feeling well and taking time off. Good! Could tell you need rest. Can’t be a superhero all the time.

Rich had been cool about it when Gracie asked if she could get her shifts at the bookstore covered for the week. And her attendance at class was in good enough shape that she could afford to be absent, but she emailed her professors anyway, claiming an unspecified “personal emergency.”

That had been Hancock’s advice, to spend some time before they headed downtown to check out of her life for a bit. She wished he would have specified how little of a bit that was, but he said he couldn’t be certain just yet. As she left his office, the only assurance Hancock could give her was that he would be able to do something, not what that something might be.

What awaited Gracie at the Titan City Justice Center and what would come after were total blanks. After a while, all the not-knowing short-circuited Gracie’s ability to worry. It was too big a space for fear to fill. So, she did as she was asked, moving mechanically through typing messages, knocking on the neighbor’s door to ask if they would check on Jerry and Joe in case Kristen wasn’t back that night, and packing some things.

Hancock had told her, “Grab hold of the essentials, like you’re going away for a week, but don’t leave anything in your apartment that you have any strong feelings about.” Mainly what she had feelings about were her jacket and boots, which she wore, and her laptop, which she shoved into a bag along with some socks, underwear, her favorite shirts, and her copy of Nights of Justice.

Then Hancock showed up to drive her downtown, and she met him at the sidewalk, bag in hand. He was smiling. Gracie couldn’t decide if that pissed her off or not. 

“You ready?” he asked. 

She lifted her bag in answer.

As they headed downtown, Hancock laid it out for her. “Okay, here’s the plan…” He drove to the sound of 80s hair metal playing on his radio. Howling guitar provided a soundtrack to his counsel. “It sounds like you are going to be charged and arrested. Being arrested involves the stuff you’ve seen in movies — fingerprints, mugshots, that sort of thing.”

Great, she’d get to have her face on that gas station paper with all the week’s arrests.

“Now, once you are arrested,” Hancock continued, “you would normally be held in jail until your trial comes up. And honestly, with the backlog of cases, that could take months.”

Months? Ice hit Gracie in the gut and sank to her toes.

“But!” Hancock held up a finger. “We have a friend of a friend willing to cover your bond. With that, you can be released under the expectation that you will return to your appointed court date.”

Owing some stranger for her bail didn’t sit well with Gracie. “I have a little bit of money,” she said. “How much would it be?”

“Honestly, it depends on the mood of the magistrate. First time aggravated assault, somewhere in the four- to seven-thousand-dollar range.”

“Fuck…”

“Well, if you show up for your trial, you can get that money returned to you. But let’s say you were hiring a bail bondsman, they usually charge you about fifteen percent of your total bail, and that’s their fee.”

“So, like, several hundred dollars?” Could she make that work?

“Exactly. But you don’t have to worry about that. We’ve got it covered.”

Nope. She did not like that one bit. That was an unthinkable amount of debt to carry from someone she didn’t know. “Okay, so this friend of a friend who’s got it covered, did they ‘meet a man at midnight’ too?”

“He’s got his reasons,” said Hancock. “You can ask what they are when you meet. Right now, all you need to know is he will make sure you don’t have to stay in lock-up overnight, and that he’s got a place for you to crash until trial if you need one. Going back to your apartment is not a good idea. You shouldn’t have contact with your roommate or her boyfriend before you see them in court.”

“Right… Right…” Either this was a sweeter deal than Gracie could have ever imagined, or it was a trap. “And what does this guy want in return?”

Hancock looked over at her. “If it seems like too much, we don’t have to do it this way. Is there someone else you feel more comfortable staying with?”

There wasn’t. As sweet as Brianna was, Gracie wasn’t ready to get close to her like that. “No, I just… I’m not really… This whole being rescued thing… It doesn’t feel like me.”

“I get that. Okay, well, the guy who’s offered to put you up, he runs a business. Maybe he can find some work for you there, you know, give you the chance to feel like you’re earning your keep.”

Gracie nodded, and the conversation went silent until they came up to the Titan County Justice Center.

Originally built in 1933, the Titan City Justice Center showed the sleek art deco style of that age with a great glass arch intercut by gleaming towers that speared upward into the deepening red of the autumn sunset. In its courtyard, a reflecting pool shaped like the eight-pointed star of a compass rose echoed the burning brilliance of the sky. It was a beautiful, awe-inspiring structure, and Gracie was going to have her fate decided within its walls. It made her feel very small, not worth consideration, and no more likely to receive mercy than an ant under someone’s boot.

Hancock went around the side, driving down into an underground parking deck where he had to wave his courthouse ID to guards with rifles to be let through.

When they stopped, he handed Gracie a pen and a small, torn piece of paper with a phone number on it. “Write this on your arm,” he said. “Once you finish processing, you’ll have emptied out your pockets. When the magistrate sets your bond, call this number and let them know how much. You’ll be out in three-to-four hours, tops.”

Gracie nodded, and took a breath. It shuddered in her chest. “I’m… scared,” she said.

He nodded. “Feeling scared right now makes sense. But you’re not alone. Come on.”