Complete Me (The Stark Trilogy)

and the lay judges follow suit. They don’t look happy.
    The tall judge points to Herr Vogel and the prosecutor, and says a few more words in German. Again, I’m left clueless, but considering how quickly the two move to follow him through theheavy wooden door to the court’s inner sanctum, I can tell that something important is going on.
    Tense moments pass. Maynard leans over and says something to Damien. Damien shakes his head. The observers in the courtroom shift and mumble, and I know that all eyes in the gallery are on Damien. I am clutching the bench upon which I’m sitting, terrified that if I don’t hold on I will go spinning off into space. And equally afraid that I will dent the wood from my fingers pressing in too tightly.
    Time has no meaning for me until the door finally opens again. The bailiff steps out. He speaks to another of the German attorneys, who then bends and whispers something to Maynard. I try to read his lips, but of course I cannot. I see Charles stiffen, though, and my own body tightens as well. Charles reaches for Damien, his hand closing over his elbow. He speaks low, but I manage to make out the words: “They want to see us in chambers.”
    I swallow as Damien stands, and without thinking, I reach for him. I don’t see him move. I don’t see him step toward me. But for the briefest of moments, his fingers close over mine. Electric shocks whip through me. He squeezes my fingers, his eyes meet mine.
    I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t know what to say. I am scared, so scared. But I don’t want Damien to see that. He knows it, of course, but I want to be strong. I need to be as strong as he believes me to be.
    And then he is walking away, moving through the heavy wooden door to the judges’ chambers. Going where I cannot follow into a world I don’t understand.
    All I know is that trials are not usually interrupted in this way.
    All I can see is the stern expression on the judges’ faces and the blank control in the eyes of Charles Maynard.
    All I know is that they have taken Damien from me.
    All I feel is fear.

4
    Ollie has moved to the defense table to sit with the legal team. I know he is trying to find out what is going on, but his absence makes me feel even more at loose ends. It has been over an hour now. I am alone and desperate for information. For the first time since I came to Germany, I truly feel what it is like to be in a foreign country, because I have no understanding of what is going on around me.
    It’s not the language, though. The fact that I do not speak German only exacerbates the illusion. The German attorneys all speak fluent English, and I can hear what they are saying to Ollie. And what they are saying is that they do not understand any more than I do. We have all stepped through the looking glass, and I’m afraid that what we will find on this side is something even worse than the spectacle we anticipated.
    I press my hands to my chair, preparing to lever myself to my feet. But I force myself to remain seated. Pacing will only call attention to me, and I have already noticed how many of the people in the gallery are staring at me, whispering among themselves. In the absence of Damien, I stand as his proxy. It is not a role that Iwould mind under normal circumstances, but today I do not want to be in the spotlight.
    When I am certain that I will go completely mad if even one more minute passes without any word, the door to the judges’ chamber opens and the group files out. The professional judges come first, their expressions unreadable. Then Maynard, then Herr Vogel. The lay judges follow, and Damien brings up the rear.
    I’m not sure when I stood up, but I’m standing when my eyes meet Damien’s. My hands are fisted in my skirt, and I’m silently screaming at him to tell me what happened. He remains silent, and though I search his face, I can find nothing helpful in his expression. It is completely blank.
    He slips in behind the counsel table, and he is only a few feet from where I stand. My heart lurches, because he is no longer looking at me, and a cold wave of fear settles over me. Then he shifts, his eyes once again meeting mine. I blink away tears.
    It’s bad
, I think. Whatever it is, it must be very, very bad.
    Damien looks away, and my sense of foreboding increases. He sits at the defense counsel table, and I take my seat, as well. There is already one witness—a janitor—who saw him arguing on the roof with Richter before