Page 1 of Trial Run

Chapter One

“Get down!”

The barked words cut through the thick smoke, and once again Reggie couldn’t tell if the voice was friend or foe, but the sharp repeating loud bangs told her the difference could be deadly. Before she could decide, her shoulder burst into flames, and she looked down in time to see the files she’d been holding flutter to the ground. Stabs of pain ripped through her and she grasped her arm as her knees buckled. Wet, warm—she pulled her hand back and stared at the bright red blood, barely comprehending it was her own right before she dropped to the ground beside the papers she’d held moments ago.

Bang.Reggie shot awake at the sound, unsure if it was real or a tendril from her dream weaving through her real life—an occurrence happening way more often than she’d ever expected. A quick look around the room told her she was safe at home in her bedroom. The nap had seemed like a good idea when her head hit the pillow, but its goal was elusive and she was neither rested nor refreshed, only more stressed than she was when she was awake. She heard another bang, this one lighter, and she recognized the sound of the postman replacing the facing on the group of mailboxes outside her apartment.

Mail.The word amplified her focus, and she threw off the covers and pulled on the sweats she’d tossed on the end of her bed. A moment later, she was standing in front of the bank of mailboxes and she took a deep breath. Every day she’d checked and every day there was nothing more than bills and junk, but maybe today would be different.

Reggie reached a hand up into the mailbox, but a sharp pain caused her to drop the mail onto the ground, echoing her dream. She rubbed her shoulder, silently cursing the effects of her injury which were taking way too long to heal and stared at the letters strewn on the ground. Most of them appeared to be junk, but she bent down and gathered them up, hoping the letter she’d been expecting was tucked in the mess.

It was at the bottom of the stack. She wanted to rip it open right there, but she also wanted to savor the moment, so she walked the short distance to her apartment and juggled the mail in one hand while she fumbled to get the keys in the door. It had been months, and she’d expected her arm to be higher functioning than it was by now, but if the letter she was holding said what she hoped, then her injury would no longer be the focal point of her life. She was long past ready to move on.

She tossed the mail on the kitchen counter and reached into the fridge for a beer because no matter what the letter said, she was either going to want to celebrate or commiserate. What she really wanted was company to share the news, whatever it was, but since she’d left her job at the courthouse, it had become harder and harder to reconnect with the family she’d had there. She’d shown up for a few happy hours to celebrate big wins and birthdays, but increasingly she’d felt like an outsider, not knowing the cases they discussed or the new personnel who’d been hired to take the place of her and others like her, who’d left to pursue other jobs after the shooting. Not for the first time, shefelt a pang of guilt for moving on, but the bullet in her shoulder was dedication enough for a lifetime.

She unscrewed the cap on the beer and took a deep pull before reaching for the envelope with the State of Texas official seal. She held it for a moment and closed her eyes, using her dad’s favorite technique for making things happen. She envisioned the words inside, saying everything she wanted them to say, and then, unable to control her patience any longer, she tore it open and devoured the letter within.

Congratulations. You’ve been authorized to sit for the Private Investigator’s examination…

There was more, a lot more, about the details of the exam, how to study, what to bring, and where to schedule, but none of that mattered right now. She was ready for her new career, and while it would likely have her back at the courthouse from time to time, she’d no longer be trapped in the building, a waiting target for any madman who decided to seek revenge without caring who he mowed down in his path. Besides, she planned to focus on business fraud, personal injury, divorce—the kind of cases where the worst thing that happened was money changing hands. She clinked her beer bottle against the handle of the refrigerator, a toast to her new life, just as a knock on the door startled her out of her solo celebration.

The face on the other side of the door viewer was her neighbor Evan, the neighborhood gossip. As much as she’d love to have someone to celebrate with, if she invited him in, he would stay for hours. But she knew he’d likely seen her come inside and was unlikely to relent until she answered the door. She eased it open slightly. “Hey, Evan, what’s up?”

He peered around her, like he was looking to see who else might be inside, but she kept the opening narrow to thwart his nosy self. Finally, he held up an envelope. “This came for you.Damn postman put it in my box by mistake.” He lowered his voice to a serious-sounding whisper. “Looks important.”

Two important letters in one day—what were the odds? She reached for the envelope and he reluctantly let go. When she pulled it toward her, she processed it had an official seal like the other, but this one wasn’t from the state of Texas, it was from Dallas County. The courthouse to be precise and she instantly recognized it for what it was. She looked up to see Evan staring at her.

“You going to open it?”

She shook her head. “Not right now.” She glanced back into her apartment. “I’m in the middle of something, but thanks for bringing this by.” She eased the door shut, knowing she was being rude, but not caring because she wanted to be alone. She walked back into the kitchen and ripped open the envelope only to find her fears confirmed.

You’ve been summoned to appear for jury duty.

She almost laughed. Of all the reasons she could be pulled back to the courthouse, she never imagined jury duty would be the reason. Given her history, she’d never be selected and the whole ordeal would be a waste of time, but funny, nevertheless. She set down the letter and stared at her phone. One call might make the notice go away, but did she really want to use up a favor on this when there was no chance she’d get picked for a jury anyway?

Nope. She was on a roll right now and a couple of hours at the courthouse spent waiting to be sent home from jury duty wasn’t going to bring her down.

* * *

“Mom, I hate these.”

Brooke looked up from her textbook at her son, Ben, who was wearing his very best ick face while holding a partially eatendonut. She laughed. “No one hates donuts.” She cocked her head and frowned. “Are you really my child?”

“I don’t hate all of them, but this one.” He made a spitting sound. “It’s horrible.”

“Drama and donuts. That’s pretty extra for a Monday morning.” Brooke reached out her hand. “Give it to me.” She reached for the sticky circle of wonder and took a big bite. The yeasty dough melted on her tongue and her mouth watered as she savored the salty sweet bacon against the maple glaze. She held the rest of the donut in the air, pointing it at her son. “One day, mark my words, you will long for delectables such as these and wish you had enjoyed more of them while you had the metabolism of a twelve-year-old.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shook her head, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “Never mind. You don’t need to worry about anything like that for a very long time.” She shoved one of the napkins that had come with the donuts into her book and slammed it shut. “I think I’m ready for my exam. How about you?”

“I guess so. I mean I studied my brains out, but not as much as you.”

It was true, she’d studied her brains out for her economics exam, but she wasn’t entirely confident her efforts would pay off. She had a basic grasp of the subject, but every time she went to class or reviewed the materials, it felt like everyone was speaking a foreign language. She’d resorted to watching reruns ofBillionsand the movieWall Streetto get a basic understanding, but whether either of those crutches would help with the test remained to be seen.

She poured the last bit of coffee in a thermos and motioned for Ben to head to the car while glancing at her watch. She had exactly enough time to drop him off at school and make it toclass, but when they barreled out the door, her landlord filled the doorframe. Damn.

“Hi, Mr. Peterson.” She mouthed “let me do the talking” to Ben, and shook her head, hoping Peterson wouldn’t bring up the past due rent in his presence. “I was going to come see you after work today.”

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