Guilty Read Online Free PDF

of the Pussycat Dolls hit "Don't Cha" blared without warning from somewhere in the courtroom. While Judge Moran stiffened and Curry glanced over his shoulder, his expression surprised as he sought the source of the disruption, Kate froze in horror.
    She knew the source of the disruption without any possibility of mistake. It was her cell phone. She—and this was another big courtroom no-no—had forgotten to turn it off. The mortifyingly unprofessional ringtone only made things worse. Ben and his friend Samantha had been experimenting with her phone yesterday when she had driven them through the McDonald's drive-thru on the way to returning Samantha home from a playdate. This had been their favorite ring-tone. This was what they had left on her phone. This was what she had forgotten all about, and thus hadn't gotten around to changing back to its usual businesslike chime.
    She always turned her phone off before walking into court. Always. But in all the rush, today of all days, she had simply forgotten.
    "Whose cell phone is that?" Judge Moran asked awfully.
    A stricken glance at Bryan's face told her that he knew the distracting sound was emanating from somewhere around their table.
    Her briefcase, to be precise. Nestled against the far leg of the counsel table, there on the floor beside her chair. Although she couldn't see the black leather rectangle from where she stood, she guessed the thing was practically vibrating with the energy of the song.
    Her phone let loose with the bouncy melody again, and she felt about two inches tall.
    "I want an answer!" Moran said.
    Everyone glanced around, searching for the culprit. The three deputies stationed around the courtroom looked at one another, then at the judge for a cue as to what to do. Knowing Moran, this was going to get nasty fast.
    Kate faced the awful truth: There was no way out. She had to confess.
    "It's mine, Your Honor," she said, doing her best to keep her chin up even though she felt like sinking straight down through the floor. Right on cue, the ringtone sounded again.
    If only the damned thing would shut up. Please, let it just shut up. I m so sorry, I ...
    "Turn it off." Moran's voice was like thunder. His face was taking on color like a quickly ripening tomato. "Now."
    "Yes, Your Honor."
    Toddling off in the direction of counsel table while doing her best to maintain some semblance of professional cool, she was hideously conscious of being the cynosure of all eyes. Bryan's face was a study in dismay. Beyond him, in the galleries, Kate faced a sea of wide eyes all focused on her. Except for another exuberant burst of melody from her damned phone, the silence in that courtroom was absolute.
    Oh my God, I don't believe this. I've made an absolute fool of myself and Bryan and the entire district attorney's office. Moran's going to wipe the floor with me. How could I have let this happen?
    Those, and more along the same line, were only some of the happy droughts that pounded through Kate's head as, teeth clenched, she crouched beside the prosecution's table, flipped the clasps open on her briefcase, and thrust her hand into the side pocket to grab her vibrating phone.
    Kate found the button and turned off the ringer with a quick, vicious jab even as recognition dawned: The phone number dancing across the little digital display on the front of the phone was that of Ben's school.
    Even so, her uppermost feeling for the next split second was relief that blessed silence now reigned.
    Then anxiety of a different sort raised its head, playing havoc with her already frazzled nerves.
    Ben.
    She had dropped him off at seven-thirty, as she did every morning so she could get to work on time. He was part of the breakfast group, which was maybe a quarter of the school's population of two hundred under-twelves, basically the kids whose parents had to be at work by eight. They had juice and cereal or whatever in the cafeteria until seven-fifty, when they were allowed to go to their