Wes was almost to the courthouse when he heard about the explosion on the radio. His face drained of color, and he pressed the accelerator harder and flew faster.
A mob scene with cameras and microphones waited outside the courthouse. Wes double-parked behind another car and got out of his car. He started to run toward the building.
“Wes!”
He turned around and saw Eric Grayson sitting in his BMW, a phone to his ear as he leaned out his open door.
Wes ran toward him, his eyes murderous with accusation. “I heard about the explosion,” he said. “Was my sister in it? Was Clint?”
“No,” Eric said, cutting off the phone and grabbing his briefcase. “Sherry didn’t come, Wes. I wouldn’t let them bring her with Clint. She’s safe, son. And Clint was in one of the other ambulances. He’s already inside.”
“I want to go in,” Wes said. “I want to hear what this is all about. Why my sister has been dragged into something so deadly.”
“All right,” Eric said. “I’m sure the courtroom is full, but you can come in with me.”
With no time to deny his father’s favor, Wes followed him into the side door of the courthouse.