A Time To Come Home. Darlene Gardner
is a good lesson for him.”
“It’s all about gaining experience and putting in the time. Next time your associate will be better prepared so the prosecution doesn’t surprise him again.”
“You’re right. But next time he won’t be up against an opponent who might become the youngest circuit court judge ever appointed in Maryland.”
“I take it you heard I put in an application for the vacancy.”
“I heard more than that. I heard the judicial nominating commission is very impressed with you. Unless you blow the interview, they’ll recommend the governor appoint you to the bench for sure.”
The thirteen-member commission, armed with background information and statements from local bar associations and interested citizens, would soon meet to interview all the candidates. Tyler had every intention of sailing through the interview, the same way he’d aced his tests in college and law school.
“That’s only the first step,” Tyler said. “The commission can recommend up to seven candidates.”
“I still wouldn’t bet against a guy as accomplished as you, although I’d go nuts if I put in the time you do,” he said with a laugh, then lowered his voice as though they were coconspirators. “Just tell me one thing. Did you get the idea to cross check the addresses because of what happened on Labor Day weekend?”
Tyler cocked his head, trying to remember back to last weekend. He’d spent most of it working, although Lauren Fairchild had stopped by his house in an unsuccessful attempt to persuade him to come to her family’s cookout. “I don’t follow.”
“With that woman who transposed our house numbers. She stopped at my place on Saturday by mistake, but I pointed her in the right direction. Don’t tell me she never found you.”
“I was at the office most of the day Saturday,” Tyler said, then quickly asked, “What did this woman look like?”
“Very attractive. Brown hair a little longer than shoulder length. Big hazel eyes. Oh, and a tiny mole to the left of her mouth, like the one that supermodel has.”
The woman he’d described was Diana Smith.
If his neighbor hadn’t pointed out the mole, Tyler never would have come up with her name.
What could she possibly have come to his house to say after all these years? And why hadn’t she said it when he’d run into her at the community center?
A number of hackneyed expressions ran through his head: water under the bridge. Let bygones by bygones. What’s done is done.
He didn’t listen to any of them. What Diana had to say shouldn’t matter and probably wouldn’t in the long run. But one way or the other, he intended to find out what it was.
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