“You’re in the wrong profession, the Probation Office? A bright, attractive girl like you? It’s a dead-end street. Where do you go? Isn’t there something you want to be?”

“When I grow up? I don’t know,” Kathy said, “I’ll probably get married again someday. I’d like to have kids.”

“You already tried that. You have any offenders on Community Control? Wear the anklet, can’t leave the house?”

“In the office. I don’t handle any myself.”

“Sometimes you call it house arrest? Like being in jail at home. Or married to the wrong person. Am I right?”

Kathy said, “I guess you could look at it that way,” wanting to get out of here. Next thing he’d be telling her his wife didn’t understand him, they were married in name only, had separate bedrooms, and that was why he saw other women occasionally and it would be okay if they had dinner together.

But he didn’t. He said, “You studied psychology, you were at South County awhile… I can see you’re a person who naturally feels sympathy for others, their problems.”

He was back on the track, coming at her.

“What would you do if you’re having a conversation with someone and all of a sudden she becomes a different person?”

He had to be talking about his wife.

“Like a mood swing,” Kathy said.

He leaned close over the desk to shake his head at her. “I’m not talking about a change of mood or tone of voice.” The judge speaking now, laying down the law. “I’m telling you she becomes somebody else, in voice and manner and what she says.”

“Your wife,” Kathy said.

“Leanne,” the judge said. “Originally from Ohio.”

Chronically undifferentiated popped into Kathy’s head, but she wasn’t that sure it applied and didn’t want to get too far into this anyway. She tried to pass it off saying, “You’re different now, Judge, than you were in court. Don’t you think?”