Her judicial robe was already hanging in her chambers at the courthouse. She had taken it there herself the evening before, pressing it carefully and hanging it behind the door, where she would see it the moment she walked in.
She chose her outfit with intention. A charcoal blazer over a crisp white blouse, dark slacks, simple leather flats. No jewelry except her mother's watch, a gold-plated Seiko that Gloria had bought for herself on her 20th anniversary at the courthouse. Naomi wore it every day she worked.
She could have taken the judges' entrance that morning. Every judge in the building had a private access code, a separate security line, a side door that bypassed the public checkpoint entirely. It was faster. It was quieter. It was designed for exactly this kind of morning.
But Naomi locked her apartment door, took the elevator to the lobby, and walked out onto the sidewalk into the pale October light.
The main entrance was four blocks away. She would walk them the same way her mother had walked them. Through the front door, head up, nothing to prove to anyone and everything to protect.
The morning was cool and still. Fallen leaves skated across the pavement ahead of her. She adjusted her briefcase strap, took a slow breath of cold air, and began walking toward the courthouse.
She didn't know yet what was waiting for her there.
But the building rose above the tree line ahead of her, its limestone face gray and pale in the early light. And for a moment, just a moment, she thought she could almost see her mother's silhouette moving behind the glass.
She kept walking.
Derek Voss saw her the moment she pushed through the revolving door.
He didn't recognize her. He never would have recognized her. To Derek Voss, Naomi Ellison was simply a Black woman in a blazer walking through a building he considered his territory. And that was more than enough information for him to make a decision.
He was leaning against the security station near the main entrance, arms folded, coffee cup balanced on the edge of the conveyor belt.
He had been assigned to courthouse security detail for the past three weeks. A temporary posting while two of the regular officers were on medical leave.
He hadn't wanted the assignment. He found courthouse security tedious, undignified work compared to street patrol. But he had shown up every morning, and he had filled the hours the same way he always did. By making certain people feel like they didn't belong.
He caught Pruitt's eye across the lobby with a look they had exchanged a hundred times before. A small nod toward Naomi. Pruitt straightened up and moved to intercept without being told.
Naomi crossed the marble floor toward the security checkpoint, her heels clicking in a clean, unhurried rhythm. She placed her briefcase on the conveyor belt and reached into her jacket pocket for her credentials.