At 9:20, a bailiff stood and yelled, “All rise for the Court.” As he did so, Judge Henry Gantry entered from behind his bench, his black robe flowing after him. The bailiff went on, “Hear ye, hear ye, the Criminal Court of the Tenth District is now in session, The Honorable Henry Gantry presiding. Let all who have matters come forth. May God bless this court.”

“Please be seated,” Judge Gantry said, and the crowd, still in the process of rising, suddenly fell back again.

Judge Gantry glared at Clifford Nance and took a deep breath. All eyes followed his, and Mr. Nance looked even paler. Finally, Judge Gantry said, “Mr. Nance, where is the defendant, Peter Duffy?”

Clifford Nance slowly got to his feet. He cleared his throat, and when he finally spoke his rich voice sounded scratchy and defeated. “Your Honor, I do not know. Mr. Duffy was scheduled to be in my office this morning at 7:00 a.m. for a pretrial meeting, but he did not show. He has not called, faxed, e-mailed, or texted me or anyone on my staff. We have called his phone numbers many times but got nothing. We’ve gone to his home, but no one is there. We are, at this moment, searching for him, but it appears as though he has vanished.”

Theo listened in disbelief, as did everyone in the courtroom. A deputy stood and said, “Your Honor, if I may?”

“Proceed,” said Judge Gantry.

“This is the first we’ve heard of this. Had we been notified earlier, we could have begun a search.”

“Well, start looking now,” Judge Gantry said angrily. He was obviously upset at the absence of Pete Duffy. He rapped his gavel and said, “We’ll be in recess for an hour. Please tell the jurors to make themselves comfortable back there.” And with that, Judge Gantry disappeared through a door behind his bench.

For a moment or two the spectators sat in stunned disbelief, as if they might see Pete Duffy walk in any moment now if they simply kept waiting. Then there were whispers and light chatter, then movements as several stood and began milling about. No one left, though, because no one wanted to take the chance of losing a seat. Surely, Pete Duffy would arrive any minute, apologize for being late, blame it on a flat tire or something, and the trial would go on.

Ten minutes passed. Theo watched the lawyers slowly ease toward the center of the courtroom and engage in hushed conversations. Jack Hogan and Clifford Nance huddled as if to compare notes, both men frowning gravely.

“What do you think, Ike?” Theo asked softly.

“Looks like he skipped out.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means a lot of things. Duffy put up some real estate to secure his bond, to guarantee his appearance in court, so that property will be forfeited and he’ll lose it. Of course, if he has indeed skipped out, he’s not too worried about property here because he’ll spend the rest of his life on the run. He’ll be a fugitive, until they catch him.”

“Will they catch him?”

“They usually do. His face will be everywhere—all over the Internet, on Wanted posters in the post office and every police station in the country. It will be difficult to avoid capture, but there have been some famous cases of fugitives who are never caught. They usually get out of the country and go to South America or some place. I’m surprised. I didn’t think Pete Duffy had the guts to make a run for it.”

“Guts?”

“Sure. Think about it, Theo. The guy killed his wife and got lucky when the first trial ended in a mistrial. He knew that would not happen again, so he was looking at a lifetime in prison. Me, I’d rather take my chances on the run. He’s probably buried some money somewhere. Got himself some new papers, a new name, maybe a pal who’s helping. Knowing Duffy, he’s probably got some young woman hooked into his scheme. Pretty smart move if you ask me.”

Ike made it sound like a real adventure, but Theo wasn’t so sure. As the clock approached 10:00 a.m., he gazed at the empty chair where the defendant was supposed to be and found it impossible to believe that Pete Duffy had jumped bond, skipped town, and was now prepared to live the life of a fugitive.

Omar Cheepe and Paco reappeared and huddled with Clifford Nance. From the way they shook their heads, whispered urgently, and exchanged hard looks, it was obvious the situation had not improved. Pete Duffy was nowhere to be found.

A bailiff rounded up the lawyers and herded them into Judge Gantry’s chambers for another meeting. Several deputies were telling jokes near the jury box. The noise level was rising as the crowd grew restless and frustrated.

“I’m getting kind of bored, Theo,” Ike said. A few others had left the courtroom.

“I might hang around,” Theo said. His only other option was to return to school, empty-handed, and suffer through classes. The release from the principal plainly stated that Theo was excused from school until 1:00 p.m., and he did not want to return any sooner, trial or no trial.

“Are you stopping by this afternoon?” Ike asked. It was a Monday, and the Boone family rituals required Theo to stop by Ike’s office every Monday afternoon for a visit.

“Sure,” Theo said.

Ike smiled and said, “See you then.”

After he was gone, Theo weighed the pros and cons of the situation. He was disappointed that the biggest criminal trial in the recent history of Strattenburg had evidently been sidetracked, and that he would not get the chance to watch Jack Hogan and Clifford Nance go toe-to-toe like two gladiators. But, he was also relieved that Bobby Escobar would not be forced to testify and point the finger of guilt at Pete Duffy. Theo had played a big role in bringing Bobby to the attention of Judge Gantry during the first trial, and Theo knew that Duffy’s lawyers and his thugs, especially Omar Cheepe and Paco, were keeping an eye on him. Theo preferred not to have the attention.

In fact, as the clock ticked and the crowd waited, Theo decided that the sudden disappearance of Pete Duffy was a good thing, at least for him. Selfishly, he was pleased.

Two men behind Theo were having a disagreement. In low voices, they were arguing over the fact that Duffy had been allowed to post a bond. The first man said: “I’ll bet Gantry takes some heat for this. If he had denied bail, Duffy would have been locked up while he waited for his trial, the same as every other defendant charged with murder. No one gets bail in a murder case. Gantry caved in because Duffy has money.”

The second man said: “I doubt it. Why not allow a defendant to post bail and get out? He’s innocent until proven guilty, right? Why lock up a guy before he’s convicted? Murder or otherwise? You can’t punish a guy just because he has money. Duffy’s bail was a million dollars. He put up some property and nobody complained, until now, anyway.”

Theo tended to side with the second guy. The first one responded: “Until now? That’s the whole point. Bail is supposed to secure his appearance in court. Guess what? He’s not here. AWOL, flew the coop, over the wall, we’ll never see him again because Gantry granted bail.”

“They’ll find him.”

“I’ll bet they don’t. He’s probably in Mexico City right now, getting his face worked on by some plastic surgeons who got rich re-doing the eyes and noses of drug lords. I’ll bet they never find Pete Duffy.”

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’s back here in thirty days, in jail.”

“You got it, twenty bucks.”

There was a rustle of activity and the bailiffs sprang to attention. The lawyers streamed out of Judge Gantry’s chambers and took their places. The spectators scurried for their seats and became silent. “Remain seated,” a bailiff barked. Judge Gantry assumed his position on the bench. He rapped his gavel loudly and said, “Order. Bring in the jury, please.”

It was 11:00 a.m. The jurors filed into the courtroom and took their seats in the jury box. When they were in place, Judge Gantry looked sternly at Clifford Nance and said, “Mr. Nance, where is the defendant?”