Judge Carol Chanson plucked her black robe from its brass hook and shrugged it on. She couldn’t have been more glad that this crazy case was nearing its end. The best thing that could happen right now, she told herself, would be for the jury to return a verdict that very day. Not likely, but she sure could go for a weekend of sailing on the bay. She glanced at her wall, where there was a photograph of a large sailboat, its spinnaker flying. She imagined the breeze, the wind.
Well,maybe on Sunday.
Her phone rang and she picked it up automatically, still focused on the picture. “Judge Chanson.”
“Jed Trutenning here. You’re almost done, huh.”
“Hi, Jed.” She sat down in her chair. “We’ll finish up this morning. What’s going on with you?”
“Just wanted to keep you informed about our investigation. Remember I told you we staked out the phone booth? Believe it or not, we got a hit.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. And we’d almost given up.We questioned a teenage girl who used the pay phone last night. She informed us that she’d made a call from the phone on the evening of August seventh and that as she was walking toward it, someone else was finishing a call.”
Judge Chanson raised her eyebrows.“Really. That’s quite a memory for a teenager.”
Trutenning chuckled. “Apparently, she’s taken up with some boyfriend her parents don’t approve of, and when she can’t sneak calls to the guy from home, she uses the public phone. It’s just around the corner from her house. She remembered the date because it happened to be the day after her birthday.And he forgot.”
She frowned. “Who forgot what?”
“The boyfriend forgot her birthday.”
“Oh.” She sat back in her chair and sighed.“So could she give you a description?”
“Yup. One you’ll probably recognize.”
Her chin dropped. “Oh no. I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
He told her.
“IN DECIDING THE FACTS,” Judge Chanson read, “you must not be swayed by mere sentiment… .”
Chelsea tried her best to pay attention to the judge’s instructions, even as her mind whirled with concerns over Kerra, suspicions of Brett, and worries about the dreaded deliberations. Thoughts of sitting around a table with so many people who disliked her chilled her to the bone.
“Remember also,” the judge continued,“that you are not to place any significance upon answers that were stricken by the court, even though you heard them… .”
Lord, Ifeel so unsettled. Idon’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m scared.
“As for witnesses, it is in your purview to decide who was telling the truth and who was not.You may take into consideration the fact that a witness has lied or made inconsistent statements. If you determine that a witness has lied about material facts, the veracity of all his or her testimony may be held in doubt… .”
Idon’t want to focus on my worry, Jesus. Just help me do what you want, minute by minute.
“You are not to draw any negative conclusions from the fact that the defendant did not testify… .”
Chelsea glued her eyes to the judge’s face. These instructions were of vital importance; she had to listen.
“The defendant is presumed innocent. In order to find for a guilty verdict, you must be convinced beyond a reasonable doubt and to a moral certainty of the truth of the charge. ‘Reasonable doubt’ extends to more than mere possible doubt and does not require that the proof be so clear as to eliminate the possibility of any error, for under such a standard no prosecution could prevail… .”
Were her doubts reasonable? Were they?
Lord, help me see through this.
At ten fifteen Judge Chanson finished her instructions. All at once the case was over. The judge wished them well, banged her gavel, and swept from the courtroom. Chelsea stood with the other jury members, her gaze falling one last time on Kerra.
Suddenly the room dimmed. A vision was coming. Chelsea inhaled deeply. She hung on to the chair in front of her for support, trying desperately to appear as normal as possible. Her eyes closed.
With instant clarity the man’s face sprang into view—that same man with the jet-black hair, the cold, narrowed eyes. He brought a hand to his chin, the raised scar jagging with a rough sheen between his thumb and finger. One corner of his hard mouth lifted in a satisfied, evil smile. He turned and looked straight at Chelsea, his lips flattening. She couldn’t breathe.
Then he vanished.
“Chelsea?”Vaguely she heard Gloria’s voice.
Blood pounded in her ears. She drew in a ragged breath, tried to relax her grip on the chair. Lord, why do Ikeep seeing this man?
A voice responded within her. Pray against his plans. Pray!
“Chelsea?” Gloria jiggled her arm. “What’s the matter?”
She forced open her eyes. “Sorry,” she managed.
The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds. Just long enough to shake her to the core. Somehow Chelsea picked up her purse from the floor and followed Victor out the courtroom door. Jumbled prayers already flowed through her head.
KERRA STOOD BESIDE BRETT ON the escalator. “Want to take a walk or something?” he said. “We might as well get out of this place for a while.”
“Sure.”
Four more days here, she thought.Maybe she should change her plane ticket, stay a few days longer.How could she leave Brett, especially if his father were found guilty? Deep in her heart she expected that.Maybe if the jury hung … Kerra wondered how Aunt Chelsea would vote. But even if they did hang, Darren Welk would stay in jail. Brett would have to go through a whole new trial, waiting, dreading.
The enormity of it weighted Kerra’s feet as they stepped outside into hot sunshine. She winced. No way could this turn out well. No way at all.
TOO LATE, MILT SPIED Lynn Trudy lying in wait for him as he stepped off the escalator. “What have you done with Tracey?” she hissed, blocking his path to the exit.
He feigned a bewildered look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She wasn’t home last night.” Lynn leaned toward him with an evil eye. “And she’s not at work today.”
Milt drew back in distaste.“How am I supposed to know where she is? What am I, her keeper?” He started to slide around her. She stepped in his way, pointing a red nail at his nose.
“I don’t trust you for a second. You’re nothing but—”
“I believe we’ve already had this conversation,”Milt spat. “Now get out of my way.”
“Miss Trudy.”Detective Trutenning suddenly materialized at her side and laid a beefy hand on her shoulder. “I need a word with you.”
Saved! Milt sneered at her as the man guided her toward the wall, her face still flushed with anger. The detective said something to her in an undertone.
“Why?” she demanded loudly.
Milt couldn’t make out the answer.
“I’ve already told you everything I know, which is nothing!”Lynn gestured impatiently. “So what’s the point?”
“Everything Iknow.” Milt knew Trutenning was investigating the jury phone calls.
“I repeat: we have further questioning,” the detective said, his voice rising.
“So question me right here!”
What was this? Milt wondered. Why come back to Lynn? With mounting curiosity he watched them argue. This couldn’t possibly fit. The phone calls had demanded a not-guilty vote.
Trutenning had apparently had enough.He wrapped his fingers firmly about Lynn’s arm. “We’re going to the station right now.”
Lynn opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.With a look of pure venom first at him, then across the way at Milt, she stomped beside the detective out the door.
Milt stared after them, stunned.