“Harry, the judge just asked how you plead,” Bob whispered in Harry’s ear.

Harry’s mouth was bone dry. He rasped, “Not guilty, Your Honor.” He struggled to clear his throat again, and he sounded horrible as he coughed and sputtered.

The judge crinkled her nose in disgust as she looked down at Harry. “Mr. Denby, I find sufficient evidence to remand you for possession of controlled substances, harboring a fugitive, sale of narcotics, kidnapping, murder one and falsifying police reports. I agree with the Prosecutor that you are a flight risk. Therefore, your motion for bail is denied. I order you to remain in custody until your trial date. Calendars, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Your Honor,” Bob objected, “due to the delicate nature of Mr. Denby’s ongoing investigation, keeping him in custody will expose him to an increased risk of assassination by his suspects once they learn that he is a police officer.”

Harry’s heart began beating in his throat. He tugged at his tie, desperate for air. Suffocating. Can’t…breathe…

“Overruled, Mr. Martinez. I feel Mr. Denby will be at far less risk while in police custody than if he were fending for himself out on the street.”

The judge and attorneys agreed on a speedy trial date, beginning in two months. Calendars slammed, briefcases snapped. Harry’s face was flushed, and he gasped and choked as he tried to free himself from his tie. Seconds later, amid gasps and screams from all over the courtroom, Detective Harry Denby crumpled on the floor.