Page 43 of Trial Run

She was so lost in thought about what she’d say to Reggie when she saw her that she didn’t notice they were headed in the wrong direction until they were almost to Oak Cliff. She glanced over at Mark who was hunched over the wheel, staring intently at the road ahead. “Uh, where are we going?”

“I forgot something at my place. I just need to run in real quick. It’ll only take a minute.”

That explained why he’d been in such a rush to abandon lunch, but the change in plans left Brooke feeling on edge. She started to pull out her phone and send a text to Reggie, but stopped when Mark pulled into a driveway in front of a yellow bungalow house with beautiful, well-tended garden beds. Convinced she was agitated over nothing, she relaxed as he exited the car and closed her eyes for a moment to fantasize about changing her life once this trial was over. She needed to switch to night classes only, online where possible, and tell her boss she needed a regular schedule instead of switching from days to nights from week to week. She needed to spend more quality time with Ben and she needed to find time for her own needs, starting with exploring her feelings for Reggie. She was laser-focused on her newfound determination when her door jerked open and a hand, rough and hard, covered her mouth. Her eyes shot open and the last thing she saw before she faded into unconsciousness was Mark standing over her, smirking once again.

* * *

When the judge recessed for the lunch break, Reggie dodged the other jurors on her way out of the jury room, determined to get to where she knew Mitchell’s car was parked as quickly as possible. She ducked into the restroom in the basement of the courthouse, retrieved a ball cap from her jacket pocket, and tugged it low over her forehead before she dashed out of the building. She found Mitchell’s driver exactly where Sarah said he would be—on the opposite of the courthouse from where all the regular folks entered. Typical.

She glanced around and, convinced no one was watching, she strode right up to the door of the car and rapped on the passenger side window. The driver lowered the window and glared when he saw it wasn’t the person he was expecting, but she reached in and opened the door before he could raise the window.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She ignored him and slid into the seat next to him and placed her hand on his as he reached for his phone. “Don’t. I need to speak to your boss and it’s urgent. Trust me, she’s going to want to hear what I have to say.”

He wasn’t falling for it. She could tell by the pucker of his mouth and the way he narrowed his eyes, but at that moment, the back door opened, and Mitchell slid into the seat behind her apparently not noticing there was an extra passenger up front.

“I’m starving, Elgon. You know any place that can serve a steak in less than an hour?”

Reggie turned and leaned over the back of the seat. “What about the jurors who are getting paid a measly forty bucks a day to decide your fate? Are you going to let them eat steak too?”

It only took a second for Mitchell to recognize her, but Reggie didn’t wait for her to speak. “Tell Elgon to start driving. You and I need to have a conversation.”

Mitchell nodded at Elgon who was staring at her in the rearview mirror and he pulled away from the curb. “Drive us someplace where we can talk in private,” Reggie commanded, injecting her voice with more authority than she felt at that moment.

At Mitchell’s nod, he drove across the Commerce Bridge, toward Oak Cliff and, at Mitchell’s instruction, pulled off the road near the Trinity River Park—an unlikely place to run into fellow jurors or courthouse personnel on their lunch break. When he parked the car, Mitchell told him to get out and leave them alone.

“Are you that abrupt with all of your employees?” Reggie asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer.

“I’m whatever I have to be to get things done.”

“Good to know.” She turned in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position where she could face Mitchell and look like she was in control of the situation. “How about you and I take a little walk outside?’

“How about you fuck off? I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s not appropriate for us to be seen together.”

“Right,” Reggie said a little taken aback by the outburst from Mitchell who usually appeared to have a calm demeanor. “Because you only threaten jurors, not hang out with them.”

“I never threatened anyone.”

“I know.” Reggie watched Mitchell’s indignant expression turn curious. “I know it’s Harry Benton who’s forcing your hand, but if these keep showing up during your trial, no one else is going to believe that.” She brandished the note she’d been carrying around in her pocket all morning—the copy Wren had made for her using the specifics Sarah had provided from the real ones that were in the FBI evidence locker. Mitchell flinched at the sight of the note.

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“Like I said, no one is going to believe that you don’t have anything to do with these notes that keep popping up. You’re the only one that benefits from jurors being threatened to vote not guilty. Unless…”

A moment passed and Mitchell’s anxiety was palpable. “Unless what?” she finally blurted out.

“Unless someone is trying to set you up or make it so you keep your mouth shut about something bigger than your case—something someone might kill for to keep quiet.”

Mitchell laughed, but the sound was more nervous than mirthful. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m not.” Reggie stared hard at Mitchell, enjoying the way she struggled not to squirm. “I heard him threaten you in the parking garage. He’s got big secrets to hide and I bet you know exactly what those are. I bet you know more about his involvement in the shooting at the courthouse and he’ll do anything to keep you quiet.” She held up the note again. “If delivering you a not guilty doesn’t work to ensure your silence, he may decide it’s best to keep you quiet another way. A more permanent method.”

“You really think Harry Benton would kill me because he’s afraid I’ll tell the police what I know?”

Reggie tried to raise her left arm and winced at the pain that lingered still. “See that?” she asked, pointing to her shoulder. “I can’t lift my arm because a bullet went through it. I know in my heart Harry Benton was behind the shooting, but I bet you know it for a fact which is why he’s working so hard to help you out.”

“Even if I did know anything, why would I tell you about it?”

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