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Dunphy was a Catholic with a large family, and they went to mass on Sunday morning.
    Later, in her office, Aurelia would wonder what Roland knew, or what Lester was hiding, but on this morning she waved as they drove off. She had a strange feeling about the day, a mood she couldn’t shake off, a bad feeling. She had always been superstitious—recognizing intuitions, premonitions. She thought that Roland had almost said something to her but held back.
    She went to Bobby’s room again and lifted the cap from his head. “Bobby?” she whispered.
    “I want to sleep,” he said, and turned over.
    “I thought you and Crow were going fishing this morning,” she said. “Are you sick?” He looked sick.
    “I don’t feel good,” he admitted.
    She checked his head for a fever.
    “Don’t.” He pushed her hand away.
    “I’m going to the office in about an hour,” she said. She closed the door, lifting the pile of clothes to take to the washer. Everything smelled of mildew. She washed two loads before she left the house. It was still early. She didn’t think about Roland and Lester anymore until she went to her office and saw a rash of messages and memos—all of them urgent. She called the district attorney.
                      
    “Jeb, what’s happened?”
    “Sophie Chabot is in the hospital, Judge,” Jeb told her. “She was assaulted.”
    Aurelia took in a breath.
    “The Davenport boy was placed under arrest. He came in this morning, early. The police are talking to other people who were at the party in the Fairchild house. Did they talk to Bobby yet?”
    “No.” Aurelia couldn’t think straight. The accusation of Crow Davenport had to be a mistake. Crow and Bobby were best friends. She knew Crow as if he were her own. If Crow could be accused of something, then she had to consider the possibility that Bobby might also be accused. She didn’t know how any of it could be true. “Crow’s in jail? Now?”
    “Police got a 9-1-1 call about one o’clock this morning. Male. He told us someone was hurt, and where. Didn’t identify himself.”
    “How’s Sophie? How bad is it?”
    “She’s conscious, but she’s not talking. She was raped, Judge.”
    “She won’t say what happened?”
    “I don’t think she remembers.”
    “They did a rape kit, then?”
    “They did. Rita is livid. Wants to sue the Fairchilds. Wants to crucify Crow! She won’t let anybody touch her daughter. Sophie screams if anybody touches her.”
    “Well.”
    “We know that Crow Davenport was with Sophie last night,” said Jeb. “We know that. And the thing is, they found his wallet near her. And a blanket.”
    “My God, Jeb.” Aurelia found it difficult to stay in the mode of judge. She felt simpleminded, confused. “They pick up anybody else?”
    “They’re looking into it. A lot of kids were at that party. Half the kids in town, probably.” Jeb cleared his throat. “We’re looking at the possibility that this was done by more than one person. What my guys found at the scene indicates multiple attackers. Maybe some men who like to hang around the high school. We’ve suspected they’re selling drugs. It’s just another angle to look at.”
    The judge waited a moment, then said, “I guess the media will be all over this.”
    “Already are,” said Jeb. “They’re playing up how such a privileged boy could get caught in something like this. The whole town’s riled up.” Jeb sighed. “And there’s something else.”
    “What?”
    “Sophie has bruises on her arms and thighs, her face. It’s obvious that somebody went after her pretty bad.”
    The impact of his words proved stunning, hard. At that moment Judge Bailey thought something monstrous was moving beneath the skin of the town, and that it might change the appearance of everything.
    “Why didn’t somebody call me last night?” She sat down in her high-backed judge’s chair. “I know these people. Why didn’t somebody call