“Case 4238B,” I said, pointing to the red clerk stamp on the ledger header.

Clara stopped her hand mid-page.

She looked at the number, then up at me.

“That filing came down from the clerk’s office at eight thirty this morning,” Clara said.

A heavy wooden door marked Judicial Chambers opened near the elevators.

Judge Harold Simmons stepped into the lobby carrying a black leather file folder.

He stopped three feet from the counter when he saw Daniel standing there with the blue ledger open.

“Working late, Vance?” Judge Simmons asked, his slow, gravelly voice filling the small lobby.