The judge closed the door behind them. Then he took off his robe, throwing it over a chair next to his large, wooden desk before taking a seat. Opening the drawer, he pulled out a whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink.
“You need to give Lyle a wide berth, or you’re going to find yourself in jail again.”
Since when did the judge offer anyone advice, much less him?
“I’ve been trying to do that, but in a town the size of Treepoint, it’s kind of hard to do.”
The judge lifted the whiskey glass, draining it before pouring himself another. “Try harder.”
“Since when do you give a fuck what I do?”
Judge Creech leaned back in his chair, gazing down into his glass. “I don’t.” He swallowed his second drink then set his glass down on the table before staring up at him.
“Have you seen Sutton since she’s been back in town?”
“Is that what this is all about? Are you worried Sutton and I will start something again?” Tate snorted. “I don’t fuck married women.”
Tate refused to feel guilty when the older man’s face whitened at his choice of words.
“Her husband has been dead for six years.”
Tate hid his surprise by shrugging. “It still doesn’t matter. Your daughter broke up with me, remember?”
“How could I forget?”
Tate didn’t understand the expression that crossed the judge’s face. It was a mix of agony and regret.
“If you do see her again, tell her that her mother isn’t doing well and would like to see her.”
He didn’t know how to reply, stunned that he was asked to pass along a message to Sutton when all they had to do was pick up the phone.
“Why don’t you call her and tell her yourself?”
“Sutton hasn’t talked to her mother or I since she graduated high school.”
Shocked by the judge telling him his family’s problems, it took Tate a minute to realize the man was waiting for an answer.
“I only saw her for a few minutes when she was at Pap’s house. We didn’t exactly spend any time shootin’ the shit. It was more ‘hi and bye’, which is the way both of us want to keep it. What Sutton and I had ended when she cheated on me with Cash.”
“Sutton never cheated on you. She’s not capable of cheating on anyone she loves.”
“Really?” Tate said mockingly. “Then who got out of Cash’s truck the day I saw them together. It sure fucking looked like Sutton.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. The confident judge Tate had known for years was replaced by a man who seemed twice his age with regret shining from his eyes.
“Sutton didn’t cheat on you, but I guess it doesn’t matter to you now any more than it did back then.” Judge Creech waved his hand toward his door. “Try to stay out of trouble, Tate. I’m retiring next month, and the next judge won’t be as lenient with you as I have been.”
“When the fuck were you ever lenient with me?”
“Ask that lawyer of yours. I could have made sure Rachel and those asshole brothers were taken away from you years ago. When did you ever hear about a known drug dealer keeping custody of kids? Greer could have been given a couple of years for selling to that undercover cop and planting evidence when Knox was accused for the murder of Samantha Langley. And, your ass should have been sitting in jail for six months when you assaulted Lyle.”
“If that’s true, then why cut me some slack when you hate me? You made that plain enough when I was dating Sutton.”
“If you’re so fucking smart, why don’t you figure it out?”
Tate frowned. “You did it because of Sutton?”
“Now you’re using that brain your mama gave you. Why don’t you go home and smoke some of that weed you’re so proud of and think on it a while.”
The judge placed his bottle of whiskey back in the drawer with the glass before standing up and walking toward the door.
“Why are you telling me this now? Sutton and I were over a long time ago.”
The judge opened the door before turning back to him. “You didn’t deserve Sutton then, and you still don’t. I wanted a man who would give his life for her, protect and love my baby girl the way her mother and I did. I kept waiting for you to prove me wrong. I wanted you to prove me wrong.” He shook his head at him. “You’re too big an asshole to realize what you let go, though. God help you when you do.”
The man left him speechless. He was tempted to go to Sutton and ask her what the hell her father was talking about, but truthfully, he didn’t want to know. No good ever came from dredging up the past. Like a coon dog, it was better to let the fuckers sleep. When you woke one up, the bastards never shut up. They could keep you awake for hours before they quieted down, and he had lost enough sleep over Sutton already.