Page 6 of Trial Run

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Care to expand on that?”

Reggie shrugged. “Not really.”

Gloria squinted at her like she didn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m surprised. I thought with your background here at the courthouse, you’d have more to add.”

Boom. There it was—her get out of jury duty free card. It was a classic move—out one of the jurors for whatever they were—cop, lawyer, doctor, accountant—use them to make some points in front of the rest of the crowd and then strike them so they couldn’t taint the rest of the jurors who wound up serving. Fine. She could play this game. “It’s pretty simple, actually. Theburden of proof is on the prosecution and the defendant has the right to present a defense or say nothing at all—whichever choice he,” she paused and added, “or she makes cannot be considered as evidence to be used against them.”

“Well said.” Leland turned from her to find her next victim, and when she did, Reggie spotted Brooke staring directly at her with an expression somewhere between surprised and impressed. She smiled in Brooke’s direction and Brooke smiled hollowly back. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

* * *

She couldn’t decide if Reggie kept looking at her because she was assigned to make sure she followed the instructions from the phone or if Reggie was interested in her for personal reasons unrelated to jury duty. She wasn’t sure she’d even recognize if a woman was interested in her without a flashing sign and a big brass band. It had been that long. Still, there was some spark between them—that was undeniable. Not that it mattered.

Her instructions had been clear.Answer only direct questions. Do not talk and mingle with the other jurors. More details to follow.She spoke a silent message to whoever might be watching to let them know that Reggie had approached her, not the other way around.

Thankfully, Gloria finished up her questions without including her in the interrogation. The judge called a recess and she filed out of the room with everyone else.

“Are you going to play hooky if you get cut loose or do you have to go in to work? If it’s hooky, what do you think about grabbing lunch?”

Reggie’s question was a loaded one and Brooke treaded carefully. “Hooky sounds great, but work is the smart move. For me anyway.”

“Too bad. I suppose I’ll be left to my own devices.”

Brooke titled her head. “What makes you so sure you won’t be on this jury? Is it because you used to work here?”

“Yep. Defense won’t want me because they think I’ll be too sympathetic to crime victims. Prosecutors would’ve loved to have me on the jury, but…” The words trailed off and she shook her head. “Anyway, I expect to be cut loose when we go back in there. You probably would be too if you’d spoken up a bit more.”

Brooke ignored the dig disguised as advice, and wondered what Reggie had been about to say before she changed the subject. If circumstances were different, she’d ask a few questions, get to know her, maybe even invite her to lunch. But her situation was dire. There would be no free afternoon, even if she didn’t have a job, homework, and a preteen waiting. She’d be on this jury and she wasn’t about to trust anyone else who was. The voice on the phone said she was being watched and she knew it could be anyone in the courtroom, even another juror.

Besides, even without the looming threat, she wasn’t in any position to get to know anyone new. Lunch out wasn’t a luxury she could afford, and no one wanted to try to work dates around her manic life. She didn’t want to have to answer the questions that would inevitably come about how she wound up single and raising a child on her own. Being stuck on this jury would save her from all of that, and maybe that was a good thing.

The bailiff pushed through the courtroom doors and strode into the hallway. “Judge is ready for y’all. You can go in and take a seat wherever you want.”

He disappeared back into the room and everyone in the hallway followed, packing the rear rows first. Brooke walked past them all and headed back up the first row. May as well make it easy to get to the jury box when her name was called. She sat down and glanced to her left to see Reggie settling in next to her. “I figured you’d be in the back row, ready to make a break for it.”

Reggie grinned. “I may know a secret way to exit.”

“You seem to know a lot of things.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Warning bells went off at the flirty tone in Reggie’s voice, and Brooke shifted gears. “Not at all. It was only an observation.” She opened her purse and pretended to look for something inside in a lame maneuver to get Reggie to focus on something besides her. For all she knew, the person who’d called her was watching her right now and might get suspicious that she was being friendly with a stranger. Reggie took the hint and surreptitiously pulled out her phone and started flipping through the contents. She should be relieved not to have to engage any longer, but instead she only felt sad and lonely.

The judge walked into the room and everyone started to get up until he motioned for them to stay seated. “Thanks for your patience,” he said. “We’re about to wrap up for most of you. The bailiff is going to read the names of those who have been selected to serve and then the rest of you will be free to go.” He handed a piece of paper to the bailiff who walked to the center of the room and waited until all eyes were on him.

“When I read your name, come on up here and take a seat in the box.” He hitched his pants and studied the paper. “Abigail Dearlove.” He waited until she was on her way to the front of the room before reading the next name. “Mark Landon.”

He continued the same pattern—name, pause, name, pause—and with each new name he read that wasn’t hers, Brooke let out a breath, half relieved and half terrified not to hear her own. What would it mean if he didn’t read her name? Was the deal off or would she be held responsible for not fulfilling her end of the bargain? She didn’t want to be chosen, but she had to be chosen. Pain enveloped her and she held out her hand to find tiny, red, half moons forming where she’d dug her nails into her palm.

“Regina Knoll”

She heard the gasp from Reggie and whipped her head around in time to see the look of astonishment on her face before she rose and started her slow march to the jury box. If Reggie had been certain she wouldn’t be on the jury and she’d been picked, what was to guarantee she, who had to serve, would wind up where she needed to be? What number were they on anyway?

“Raul Rodriguez.”

The guy whose sister lived in one of Shirley Mitchell’s complexes. Interesting. Brooke watched as he stood and started walking to the front of the room, and then started counting the number of jurors who’d already been selected. Rodriguez would make twelve. She hadn’t been picked and she started to panic. She needed to get out of here. Get to Ben’s school and make sure he was safe and stayed that way. If the threatening caller reached out again, she’d have to make sure they understood she hadn’t done anything to avoid serving and it wasn’t her fault their grand plan hadn’t worked out.

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