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Adrenaline, caffeine, and fatigue mingled in Hez’s blood as he sat in the courtroom, waiting for the hearing on Hornbrook’s motion to start. The police and evidence techs had been in his condo until 2:00 a.m., taking statements, digging bullets out of the living room ceiling, and so on. They stationed a squad car on the street for the rest of the night, but no one in the condo could sleep. One of the officers, a young cop named Jackson Brown, had speculated that the shots had been intended to knock Hez off his game before the hearing. Hez hoped the shooter had failed.

As if sensing his thoughts, Savannah reached over and squeezed his hand. She sat next to him at the counsel table, and he appreciated her supportive presence. “You’ll do great.”

She kept her voice down so the opposing lawyers at the table on the other side of the lectern couldn’t hear her.

The Honorable Alice Sticklesby’s courtroom reflected her no-nonsense personality. The two counsel tables each had fresh copies of the judge’s standing order in the exact center of the tabletop—and no water pitcher or cups, which were customary in most courtrooms. A lawyer had once spilled in her courtroom, and the pitchers vanished the next morning. A piece of tape on the utilitarian gray carpet showed exactly how far lawyers could move from the lectern without asking permission. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Including attorneys.

At precisely nine o’clock, Judge Sticklesby walked through the door behind the bench. She was a tall, very fit woman of about sixty who had been a scholarship volleyball player at Auburn. Her stark black robe was, of course, freshly pressed and spotless.

“All rise,”

the clerk intoned. Hez got to his feet, and so did the Hornbrook attorneys at the other counsel table. There were three of them, and they were all flying back to New York immediately after today’s hearing, judging from the roller bags lined up behind them. “The Bankruptcy Court for the Southern District of Alabama is now in session, the Honorable Alice Sticklesby presiding. Calling the matter of In re Tupelo Grove University, motion for relief from automatic stay. Counsel, state your names for the record.”

Hez cleared his throat. “Hezekiah Webster on behalf of the debtor, Tupelo Grove University. I have with me the university president, Savannah Webster.”

“Allen Boswell on behalf of movant, Hornbrook Finance, LLC,”

said the oldest Hornbrook lawyer, a tall silver-haired man in a navy suit. “With me are my colleagues Robert Greenwood and Judith Smith.”

Hez glanced back at the courtroom gallery. Empty. The other side had only sent lawyers—no one from Hornbrook Finance had bothered to come. They must view the hearing’s outcome as a foregone conclusion.

Judge Sticklesby frowned at Boswell. “Have you read my standing order, Mr. Boswell?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Boswell gestured to the bags behind them. “We are only in town for this hearing, and we haven’t had a chance to review your order. My apologies.”

The judge tapped a nail on the polished wood of the bench, making rhythmic clicks. “The order is online and specifies that counsel may not bring any items past the bar except briefcases. Please move those bags into the gallery.”

Hez repressed a smile. The other side’s lawyers must have been glad they didn’t have a client representative watching the hearing.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Boswell gave a curt nod to the young woman he’d identified as Judith Smith. She was already on her feet and scrambling to move the offending luggage, a panicked look on her face.

Hez felt a little sorry for Smith as she struggled with the three bags. She was the junior attorney on Team Hornbrook, so it probably had been her job to be aware of things like Sticklesby’s standing order. He opened the gate to the gallery for her and gave her a friendly smile. She nodded her thanks as she passed.

“All right, let’s get down to business. I’ve read the papers, so no need to repeat anything that’s in your briefs.”

Judge Sticklesby nodded to Boswell. “It’s your motion, Counsel. Any argument?”

Boswell got to his feet and stepped to the lectern. “Not much beyond what’s in the briefs, Your Honor. This is a very simple motion. My client is the sole secured creditor and has a right to immediate possession of all the debtor’s assets.”

The judge leaned forward. “But if I allow your client to exercise that right, Tupelo Grove University will effectively cease to function, right?”

“Yes, Your Honor, but that is precisely what the law provides in this case. As set out in our papers, recent events made our client understandably concerned about the university’s financial future. The shocking murder of the CFO with whom my client negotiated, the exposure of a massive artifact-smuggling scheme that—”

“As I said, I’ve read the papers,”

Judge Sticklesby interjected. “You’re telling me why your client may have the right to seize the university’s assets at some point. But your motion asks me to let Hornbrook seize those assets right now—before the university has a chance to propose a reorganization plan. Why should I do that?”

Boswell’s grip on the lectern tightened slightly as the judge pressed him, but he kept his voice smooth. “Because those assets are already insufficient to satisfy Hornbrook’s secured claims, and they’re decreasing in value every day, Your Honor. TGU’s trademarks are worth less than they were a month ago, and they’ll be worth still less a month from now. The university’s bank accounts will be drained to pay staff salaries, utilities, and so on. That’s money out of my client’s pocket. Further, there’s no realistic prospect that the university can reorganize. Its filings show that students, faculty, and donors are all fleeing. They’ll lose their accreditation and government grants soon too. Keeping them on life support while they try to cobble together a plan will merely delay the inevitable.”

“Thank you. I’ll hear from the university now.”

The judge turned to Hez. “Mr. Webster?”

Savannah gave Hez a tight, nervous smile as Boswell vacated the lectern. Hez responded with what he hoped was a reassuring pat on her arm, gathered his papers, and took Boswell’s place. “Thank you, Your Honor. We have critical new evidence. I apologize for not submitting this earlier, but we only just received it.”

Hez held up a thick document. “May I approach the bench to provide the court with a copy? I have one for counsel as well.”

The judge’s eyebrows went up, but she nodded. “You may.”

Hez crossed the well and handed a copy to the judge’s clerk, who gave it a cursory look and passed it up to the judge. Hez delivered another copy to a frowning Boswell and resumed his position behind the lectern. “I just handed the clerk a copy of Bruno Rubinelli’s affidavit. Mr. Rubinelli is an expert in computer forensics. His résumé is attached to the affidavit as exhibit one. I asked Mr. Rubinelli to examine the laptop computer owned by Jessica Legare, the former CFO of Tupelo Grove University. As Mr. Boswell just conceded, her murder and the smuggling of artifacts through the university were the justifications for Hornbrook’s demand for immediate payment. In fact—as Mr. Rubinelli discovered—Hornbrook was deeply involved in the artifact smuggling and had extensive undisclosed contacts with Ms. Legare, which we’re still investigating.”

Boswell scoffed and started to stand, but Judge Sticklesby waved him away without taking her eyes off Hez. “Hold on. I have questions for Mr. Webster. How solid is your proof of these allegations?”

“Very solid,”

Hez replied without hesitation. “Mr. Rubinelli is a recognized expert in the field and we can make him available to testify in the near future. He found numerous documents on Ms. Legare’s computer that incriminate Hornbrook. Hornbrook acted as a middleman for over a dozen sales, arranging for purchases of smuggled artifacts by its clients. Ms. Legare, who unfortunately was involved in the smuggling herself, kept records of the sales. Several dozen of those are attached to Mr. Rubinelli’s affidavit as exhibits.”

The sound of tense whispering and pages flipping from the table of Hornbrook lawyers rose behind him. He cut a quick glance at them and saw their heads together while the middle lawyer tapped furiously on his phone. “Hornbrook’s founder and CEO, James Hornbrook, actually kept one of the artifacts for himself—a very nice Aztec jade mask. A picture is attached to Mr. Rubinelli’s affidavit as exhibit forty-seven.”

Judge Sticklesby slowly leafed through Bruno’s affidavit. “I see. What about the contacts between Hornbrook and Ms. Legare that you mentioned?”

“Those are described in paragraphs sixty-one through eighty-two of Mr. Rubinelli’s affidavit. It’s a little technical, but the gist of it is that on at least a dozen occasions, Ms. Legare used an encrypted videoconferencing service to speak with someone from Hornbrook.”

The judge continued to skim Bruno’s affidavit and the exhibits. “It appears that Mr. Rubinelli is basing this conclusion on the fact that Ms. Legare’s computer connected to this encrypted server at the same time a Hornbrook computer was also connected. Is that accurate?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“There’s no record of what they discussed?”

“Not that Mr. Rubinelli or I have been able to locate to date, Your Honor.”

“And also no record of whether anyone else participated in those conversations?”

“No, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded. “All right. Anything else you’d like to add?”

Hez took a quick look at his notes. “Just that Mr. Rubinelli’s affidavit casts serious doubt on the validity of the Hornbrook loan and indicates that the university may have claims against Hornbrook, which should be adjudicated before Hornbrook is allowed to seize essentially all of the university’s assets.”

“Thank you.”

The judge turned to Boswell. “Any response, Counsel?”

Boswell stood. “Absolutely, Your Honor.”

Hez gathered his things and resumed his seat next to Savannah. He’d just thrown Boswell a huge curveball, and there was no way he could give a substantive response immediately. He’d want to go through the affidavit with a fine-tooth comb and then question Bruno about it under oath. Boswell and his colleagues would also need to consult with their client and come up with a story that explained away the evidence Hez had just presented. They might be able to do it, but it would take at least a couple of weeks—probably a month or more. That would give Hez much-needed breathing space to prepare his legal counteroffensive. He, Bruno, and the Justice Chamber had been hard at work, but their plan wasn’t ready for prime time yet.

“Mr. Webster says he just obtained this alleged evidence, and I will not question his integrity,”

Boswell said in a tone that made clear he was very much questioning Hez’s integrity. “However, I first saw this affidavit a few minutes ago when Mr. Webster handed it to me in this courtroom. That is far too late. The court should disregard it.”

The judge nodded. “Deadlines exist for a reason and the general rule is to ignore evidence or briefs that are submitted late. However, that rule has exceptions, and I suspect Mr. Webster is prepared to argue that one or more of those apply here.”

Hez half rose. “Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge jotted down a note. “I’m inclined to continue this hearing to allow both sides to brief whether I should consider the Rubinelli affidavit. If I do, I will allow adequate time for Hornbrook to do discovery sufficient to test the accuracy of the affidavit. Is that acceptable to the parties?”

Hez started to relax. It would take time to brief the admissibility of Bruno’s affidavit and more time for the judge to rule. He might get the month he needed even if she ultimately excluded the affidavit. He popped to his feet. “That’s acceptable to the university, Your Honor.”

Judge Sticklesby turned to Boswell. “What about Hornbrook?”

“One moment, Your Honor.”

Boswell huddled with the other two attorneys. “We have some new evidence of our own, Your Honor.”

He shot a sidelong glance at Hez. “We have been in touch with James Hornbrook via text. He is the founder and CEO of Hornbrook Finance, and he says that he had no idea that these artifacts were smuggled. He trusted Ms. Legare, just like the university allegedly did.”

He held up a phone and read from the screen. “His exact words are, ‘Please tell the judge that if I had any hint that these items were looted, I never would have told my clients about them, let alone purchased one myself. I am horrified.’”

The judge drummed her fingers for a moment. “What about the encrypted videoconferences with Ms. Legare?”

“He says those related to the negotiation of the loan the university was seeking—which makes perfect sense because Ms. Legare was the university’s chief financial officer.”

The judge frowned in thought for a few seconds. “Is he willing to repeat all of that under oath?”

“Yes, Your Honor. To quote him again, ‘I’ll swear everything on a stack of Bibles.’”

“All right, anything else?”

“Yes. The university’s counsel did not deny—or even address—our main argument: that Hornbrook Finance is the sole secured creditor and that it is being harmed every day as the value of its collateral decreases.”

“Thank you. I have a few questions for Mr. Webster.”

Boswell sat and Hez stepped to the lectern. “Yes, Your Honor?”

Judge Sticklesby flipped through Bruno’s affidavit. “Is there anything in here indicating that anyone at Hornbrook Finance knew these artifacts were looted? For example, an email saying, ‘I’m smuggling another statue to you,’ or ‘Here are the forged provenance documents you requested’?”

If only. “No, Your Honor.”

“And do you dispute that the amount of the university’s debt to Hornbrook exceeds the liquidation value of the university’s assets?”

“I don’t think liquidation value is a fair benchmark, Your Honor. The university’s—”

The judge speared Hez with a look. “That’s a yes or no question, Mr. Webster.”

Hez swallowed hard. “No, Your Honor.”

“Thank you.”

The judge dismissed Hez with a nod and he resumed his seat. She turned to Boswell. “Your client’s CEO says he’s willing to swear on a stack of Bibles. I want him to actually do it. You have forty-eight hours to file an affidavit from him stating exactly what you just told me. Once I receive that, I’ll grant your motion.”

Savannah gasped and gripped Hez’s arm. “What are we going to do?”

she whispered, her voice tight with panic.

If only he knew.

* * *

In spite of the warm spring sunshine on her arms, Savannah was so cold she couldn’t stop shaking. She’d seen the failure and despair on Hez’s face when they left the courtroom, and it felt like the end of all their dreams. What would she say to all the faculty and students? How could she tell them she’d failed them all?

Maybe she was wrong and there was some hope. She tugged Hez far enough away from Hornbrook’s smiling attorneys that they couldn’t be overheard. “Is the situation as bad as it seems?”

His mouth tugged farther down in his pale face. “Unfortunately, it couldn’t be much worse. They’ll have that affidavit the judge demanded by day’s end. Judge Sticklesby will sign the order, and they’ll be able to seize everything TGU owns.”

He rubbed his forehead. “I let you down, babe. Again.”

She slumped against him and struggled to keep her composure. TGU would cease to exist. That shyster Hornbrook would have their bank accounts, their buildings, their future. She’d probably be locked out of her office, but she couldn’t think about anything but the way things had crumbled around them. She straightened and clasped her arms around herself, giving in to the despair. How would they survive this blow?

She started to turn back to Hez and realized he’d moved away. She spotted him talking to Boswell. His intent expression told her he was on a mission, and she felt a glimmer of hope. Was there something he could do after all?

His jaw set in a hard line, Hez walked back toward her. “I asked for a settlement meeting, and Boswell is calling Hornbrook to see if he’d be willing to talk.”

The glimmer of hope went dark. “A settlement meeting? Are you ready for that?”

It was over, really over.

Hez shrugged. “I’d need another month to be really ready, but we have no choice. TGU will be long gone in a month. Maybe we can salvage something.”

An undercurrent in his tone made her wonder if he had something up his sleeve, but before she could ask what he planned, Boswell came their way with a purposeful stride. The set of his shoulders and the arrogant tilt to his chin set her teeth on edge.

He swiped at a strand of silver hair that had been caught by the wind. “My client is sick of your delaying tactics, Webster. If you have a serious offer to make, you can do it in person at Mr. Hornbrook’s New York office tomorrow morning. Don’t show up with an army of attorneys either. You can bring one other person, and Mr. Hornbrook will give you fifteen minutes. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,”

Hez said in a mild tone. “What time?”

“At ten. Fifteen minutes,”

Boswell warned again. “That’s it.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

A black SUV pulled up, and Boswell gestured for the other two attorneys to join him. They didn’t look back as they departed the courthouse with heads high in triumph.

Hez’s arm came around Savannah as she watched them drive off. “I’ve got one final shot tomorrow.”

She yanked her gaze from the black SUV’s taillights. “I’m coming with you to New York.”

His lips flattened and he shook his head. “No, babe, you need to stay here and take care of Simon. He’s still so sad, and he’d worry if we were both gone.”

He hesitated and glanced away. “If things . . . go south, people will need you. We can’t run the risk of leaving Simon alone.”

She gasped as his comment soaked in. “You think Hornbrook might k-kill you?”

“He’s unscrupulous. He wouldn’t want to be indicted for murder, but he could arrange for an accident. I’ll be on my guard.”

She grasped the rough material of his coat sleeve. “I need you, Hez. What if he makes sure you never make it to his office? I can’t lose you. I just can’t!”

His fingers tipped her chin up, and he stared intently into her eyes. “You’re stronger than you know, Savannah, but I have no intention of dying tomorrow. I’ve been dreaming of our future together for too long to let it slip away. I’ll be on guard.”

She swallowed down the thickening in her throat. “You can’t go by yourself. I don’t trust Hornbrook, so take someone intimidating. Maybe Jimmy?”

“There’s only one person who might scare these guys. I’ll take Bruno Rubinelli, if he’s free.”

He pulled out his phone and launched his travel app. “There’s a flight in three hours out of Pensacola. I’ll be back tomorrow in time for dinner. I’ll text Bruno and ask him to meet me.”

Hez tapped out a quick text and his phone pinged a few seconds later with a reply. “Awesome, he can make it.”

Bruno had done great work in setting up the fake website they used in taking down the smuggling ring. But how could a computer whiz protect Hez? God could, though, and she would try her best to lean on her faith in the next twenty-four hours.