Josie immediately leaped from the sofa.
“What?” She began to pace. “How did this happen?”
“Details of the escape aren’t absolutely clear,” Detective Pullman replied. “But a prison guard was found murdered in Mr. Cardwell’s cell the morning after his night shift. The guard’s keys were missing, and so was Orlando Cardwell. He’s been on the run ever since, living rough, reportedly hanging out with homeless people, blending into the background wherever he goes.”
Josie stopped pacing as an imaginary lightbulb switched on in her mind.
“It was the eyes!” she exclaimed. “The man in the courtroom had eyes that I should’ve known immediately. It was Cardwell.”
She shook her head, admonishing herself for failing to recognize Cardwell’s cold, hard gaze, devoid of any kindness or compassion. She had only ever known Orlando Cardwell to be immaculately dressed in expensive suits, shoes buffed to a shine, with his hair always perfectly coiffured. The scruffy, bearded man sitting in the third row was a world away from the spotless, yet deeply unpleasant, client she had known. He had fooled her.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” she asked, sitting down next to Blade. “It’s Cardwell who’s been stalking me.”
Detective Pullman nodded solemnly. “The police are assuming so. They interviewed some of his fellow inmates, who confirm that Cardwell held a lot of hatred for you, Josie. He seems to have focused all his bitterness and anger on you, blaming you for his disastrous trial and long sentence.”
“That sounds like Cardwell,” Josie said, raising her eyes to the ceiling. “It’s always somebody else’s fault.”
As Josie leaned forward, she felt Blade’s hand rest on her back and rub gently between her shoulders. She was surprised he was making such an affectionate gesture after their heated argument. But she needed to feel a comforting touch, and she was glad he was adult enough to put their squabble behind them.
“Why didn’t the authorities contact Josie and tell her about Cardwell’s escape?” Blade asked. “She should have been one of the first to know.”
“The breakout has been kept under wraps,” Detective Pullman replied. “The US Marshals thought they had a good chance of recapturing him by monitoring the homeless communities where he hangs out. They didn’t want to spook him into fleeing Kansas by splashing his face all over the news.”
“But the marshals haven’t found him, have they?” Josie retorted. “He’s in Sedgwick, and he’s hunting me.”
“Unfortunately, Cardwell seems to be quite a slippery character,” the detective said. “The marshals have been focusing their efforts on the Topeka area, where he was thought to be hiding. Since they’ve been made aware of the threats on your life, two marshals have been sent to Sedgwick to flush him out.”
Josie placed a hand across her stomach, where a sensation of sickness had settled. She wondered how long Cardwell had been watching her, how often he had watched her son. It was a heart-stopping thought, reminding her of how dangerous this situation was for Archie. Much as she didn’t want to resurrect their disastrous earlier conversation, Josie would have to speak to Blade again about sending Archie away. She would have to make him see that she knew best.
“Will marshals be coming here?” Blade asked.
“No,” Detective Pullman said. “The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves, so we’ll keep activity here to a minimum. Otherwise the neighbors might start to wonder what’s going on.”
Josie looked around the room with its bare, pale walls and bland furnishings. At that moment she yearned to be at her own home with its happy memories and familiar possessions. She was beginning to hate this house. Despite its size, it sometimes gave her a sensation of claustrophobia. Yet she wasn’t sure how much of this feeling was also caused by Blade. His presence often brought on a shortness of breath and a desire to run outside for air. She didn’t seem to be in control of her emotions while he was around.
“If Cardwell can slip through the marshals’ net so easily, then I guess he could find us here,” she said. “Maybe we should leave.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the detective said. “There’s no reason to suspect that Cardwell will locate you here. We have procedures in place to make sure he can’t follow us, and moving would only place further strain on your family.”
Josie rubbed her eyes. She was like a parched flower in need of water. She wanted to flourish again, and sleep soundly through the night. After only four nights in the safe house, she was about ready to go to bed for a whole week.
“I think I’d like to go home,” she said quietly. “I need my own bed.”
Blade removed his hand from her back and placed it on his knee. “What about Archie?” he asked quietly. “Do you think it’s safe for him to return home?”
“No, of course not. Like I said, I’ll be asking my dad to drive Archie to my grandparents’ house in Dodge City. I’d rather he went out of state, but at least Dodge City is one hundred fifty miles from Wichita.” She ignored the unwavering stare coming from Blade. “Archie loves his great-gramps, and I’m sure my dad would like to spend some time with his parents, so it could work out well.”
Blade looked at Detective Pullman. “Could you give us a few minutes to talk?”
The detective seemed already to have sensed the need to leave and was in the process of rising from the couch. Both Detectives Pullman and Sykes were becoming very perceptive where Josie and Blade were concerned, often slipping out of the room when tensions rose.
“Sure,” he said, making his way out of the room. “But think carefully about leaving this house, Josie. I know you’re homesick, but you’re safe.”
Once he was gone, Blade wasted no time in saying what was on his mind.
“You drive me crazy sometimes, you know that? I want to be friends with you, but you won’t let me.”
Josie crossed her arms. She had no intention of being drawn into another argument. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Why don’t you trust me to make good choices for Archie?” Blade asked. “Is it because of my disability?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Your missing limb has no effect on your ability to be a good dad.” Now she was caught up in a conversation that she didn’t want to have, but she needed to continue. “I’ve already apologized for my insensitive offers of help, and I hope we can put it behind us. Your disability was never the reason for my lack of trust in you.”
“So, what is the real cause? Is it because I’m a little more rough and ready with Archie than you are?”
“Archie is still so young, but you’ve already talked about letting him swim in the deep end of the pool and climb higher than I think is safe.” Josie clenched her fists tight. “I just don’t think you see the danger. Maybe it’s because you’re a former SEAL.”
“Or maybe it’s because I’m a dad,” he said. “Maybe there’s a simpler explanation for our difference of opinion. You’re a mom and I’m a dad. We have different roles to play.”
Josie snorted. “I hardly think that our gender is relevant here.”
“Think about it, Josie,” Blade said. “When you were growing up, who encouraged you to climb the tree in your backyard? And who came running to see to your cut knees and elbows when you fell?”
Josie fell silent. Blade knew of her childhood in Sedgwick, of the huge oak tree in the yard where she and her dad built a tree house. She suffered many cuts and scrapes when she was a kid, but her mom would clean and dress the wounds so she could go straight back outside and continue playing. She had always been tough, even as a child, and nothing kept her down for long.
It infuriated her, but Blade was right. Her father would be the one encouraging her to climb higher, whereas her mom would yell for her to come down.
“My situation was different,” she said after a few seconds of silence, trying to create a counterargument in her mind. “Archie and I are total opposites. I was a tomboy, but he’s a sweet and gentle kid who needs a lot of support.”
Blade threw his head back with a sound of disbelief.
“Are you kidding me?” he said with a laugh. “He’s the toughest kid I ever met.” He pointed to the sturdy light fixture in the center of the ceiling. “I found him dangling upside down from that yesterday.”
Josie gasped. Blade hadn’t told her this.
He seemed to read her mind. “I gave him a lecture and made him promise never to do it again, but it just goes to prove how fearless he is. He needs somebody to help him channel that desire for adventure.” He took a deep breath. “He needs me.”
“Archie never used to be this way until you came into his life,” Josie said, trying not to imagine her son falling from the light fixture and onto the coffee table. “He used to be much calmer and quieter. But he prefers spending time with you now, and I can’t do anything about it. He’s changed.”
“Do you think I’m a bad influence?”
Josie really didn’t want to answer that question, but she couldn’t evade it. “Sometimes.”
“Josie, listen to me,” he said earnestly, taking her hand. “We have a beautiful son who’s never had the freedom to play rough. He’s always tried to please you by being the kind of calm and quiet child you expect him to be. Just because he enjoys spending time with me doesn’t mean you’re losing him to me. The truth is, he’s a high-spirited boy, and you have to let him explore different sides of his character.”
She slid her hand from beneath his. She felt as though Blade was lecturing her, trying to make her feel like a poor mother for protecting her son from harm.
“Why are we even talking about this?” she said irritably. “Is it because you don’t want him to go and stay in Dodge City?”
Blade was amicable in his reply. “Actually, I’ve come around to your way of thinking on this. Archie is going stir-crazy cooped up here.” As if to emphasize his point, his eyes flicked to the light fixture. “Giving him the freedom to play outdoors away from here seems like a great idea, but I wish we’d decided on this course of action mutually. You have to stop shutting me out of parenting.”
“I don’t shut you out,” she protested, but there was no conviction in her voice. She stood. “I really have to go to my room now, although I doubt I’ll get a good night’s sleep. This place just doesn’t suit me. I’d prefer to be in my own bed.”
He rose to stand with her. “I know it’s hard to fight the instinct to rush back home when you’re tired and low, but sleep on it. We’ll talk again in the morning and make arrangements for your dad and Archie to travel to Dodge City.”
Then he leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Try not to worry,” he said. “We’ll figure this out together.”
She took a step back from him, shocked at the tenderness of his touch, and surprised at the warm glow it was spreading across her skin. She headed for the stairs, confused and embarrassed, rubbing the cheek where Blade’s lips had just been.
His touch seemed to have awakened an old ache in her heart, prompting her to think of the months she’d spent longing to see him just one more time.
But she was a different woman now, and she could not go back there again.
* * *
Blade tried to shield Josie as best he could as they approached the courthouse, battling their way through TV crews and protesters. The protest against Norman using the public defender’s office had grown since the local news stations had picked up the story. All kinds of falsehoods and misinformation had suddenly been accepted as true by the public. Norman was thought to be hiding ninety thousand dollars in cash, and now he was being accused of loitering outside schools and playgrounds. These claims were very easy to make but impossible to verify, so Norman was at the mercy of cruel gossipers.
“Stand aside,” Detective Pullman ordered as they approached the entrance. “Don’t make me arrest any of you.”
A microphone was thrust under Josie’s nose, rapid-fire questions thrown at her. Blade put out a hand and pushed the microphone away. With so much activity, it was impossible to scan the area for Cardwell. He just had to hope that the two US marshals were doing an adequate job from their positions around the building.
Entering the courthouse was like stepping into an oasis of calm. The reverent hush was wonderful, and Blade, Josie and Detective Pullman took a few seconds to absorb the atmosphere before going through security.
“This is crazy,” Josie said, placing her briefcase and laptop on the belt for scanning. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It seems like the media is whipping the public up into a frenzy,” Detective Pullman said, handing his weapon over for inspection. “They’re vilifying Norman.”
Blade also handed over his weapon. However, unlike Detective Pullman, he would not be receiving his back until he left the building. “Norman is an easy target, I guess,” he said. “He doesn’t fit the stereotype of the all-American man. He’s small, reclusive and unusual-looking.”
Josie pursed her lips and exhaled through her nostrils, clearly annoyed. “Once the spark of gossip catches, it doesn’t take long for the flames to take hold. It takes only one match to burn a whole forest.”
Josie picked up her bags and walked into the large foyer. Today she was wearing a vivid red pantsuit with matching shoes. Her hair was pinned into another tight bun, exposing her high cheekbones and ruby lips.
He smiled at her. He had decided that, since his recent attempts at conversation had led to nothing but acrimony, he would try constant kindness. He knew that Josie’s animosity toward him was based on nothing more than fear of losing Archie, both emotionally and physically. Not only was Archie asserting his independence from his mother, but also he was doing more daring activities, encouraged and supported by his father. Blade was intelligent enough to realize that Josie wasn’t truly angry with him. She was simply afraid. And looking at her standing in the hallway, poised and collected in her body-skimming suit, he felt a sense of dread in his heart, also. He was growing closer to her, enjoying her company and feeling more protective of her each day. Much to his amazement—and despite their arguments over how to parent Archie—he was close to falling in love with her all over again.
Shaking this thought away, he said, “Red is the color of success, you know that? You look great.”
She smoothed down her jacket, looking surprisingly coy about receiving a compliment from him. “Thank you.”
The next voice that cut through the air caused a groan to come from Josie’s lips.
“I agree with your SEAL friend, Josie,” Allan Sanders said, striding across the marble floor. “You look fantastic.” He approached and shook her hand in a formal and stiff gesture. “You’ve got yourself all dolled up for the big day today, huh?” He beamed, performing a jazz-hands movement. “It’s showtime.”
“I hardly think we should be comparing the courtroom to a stage performance,” Josie said, not bothering to hide her irritation. “A man’s future is at stake here.”
Allan folded his arms across his gray suit jacket. “Ah, yes, it’s such a shame about the negative news coverage regarding your client, isn’t it?” Blade noticed that the prosecutor had a copy of the Sedgwick Chronicle tucked beneath his armpit. “But what can you expect when you’re representing a child predator?”
“I think I’ve heard enough,” Blade said, stepping forward. This was getting too personal for his liking. “Norman Francis is a good and decent man, and I think he should be afforded a little more respect.”
Allan raised his head in an attempt to look down on Blade, but his average height wouldn’t allow it. “I give Norman Francis as much respect as he deserves,” he said with a faint sneer. “Once you hear the testimony of Janice Weeks, today I think you might be ready to change your mind about Mr. Francis. His little boy lost routine might have worked on you, but it doesn’t fool me.”
Blade felt Josie’s fingers curl around his wrist.
“Your conduct is totally unethical, Allan,” she said, leading Blade a few paces away. “Norman is my client, and your attempt to smear his good character in front of others is quite devious. Let’s save this for the courtroom, where it belongs.”
Allan smiled. “You’re absolutely right, Josie. You’ve always been my favorite defense attorney, even if your decision to continue this trial is rather reckless. Putting yourself in the line of fire after receiving death threats isn’t one of your better choices.”
He turned to walk away, before obviously remembering something important and spinning around with a raised index finger in the air. “Oh, I almost forgot. You might not have heard that we’re in a different courtroom today. Another bomb scare was received this morning. A hoax, of course, but the judge decided not to take any chances, so he’s commandeered another courtroom. The judge himself will furnish you with all the details.”
“I don’t believe it,” Josie said to Blade, staring openmouthed at the back of Allan Sanders as he ran up the stairs, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a boxer preparing for a fight. “He just dropped that piece of information into the conversation like he was discussing the weather.” She shook her head, wide-eyed and shocked. “Another bomb hoax. It’s obviously Cardwell’s way of causing me maximum fear.” She adjusted the collar of her crisp white blouse. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it.”
Blade glanced over at Detective Pullman, who was deep in conversation with one of the security officers, no doubt gleaning all the facts about the bomb hoax. He then led Josie to a quiet corner and pulled her into his arms. He sensed a resistance at first, but she quickly accepted his affection and allowed her body to go limp, holding her briefcase with one hand and sliding the other around his waist. Her forehead rested lightly on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing, and she said nothing for a while. When she drew away, he saw that her color had paled and her eyes had begun to water.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate the support you’re giving me even though we fight a lot.”
“We don’t fight,” he said with a smile. “We disagree. It’s different.”
She laughed lightly. “Well, whatever you want to call it, you haven’t let it make you bitter. You’ve been really kind to me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it, especially after I made such a mess of dealing with your disability.”
He waved his hand through the air. “It’s all forgotten. However much we fight—” He stopped to correct himself. “However much we disagree, I will always care about you and always protect you. You’re the mother of my child and the only woman who’s ever meant anything to me.”
Josie swallowed hard as her eyes gathered more moisture.
He continued speaking in a hushed tone in the quiet foyer. “It’s not good for Archie to see tension between us, so I promise not to get angry or raise my voice to you. That’s no way for a man to treat a woman, anyway. If we’re going to resolve our differences, the only way forward is to be kind to one another.” He touched her cheek. It was cool and smooth. “Always.”
She nodded, seemingly unwilling or unable to speak.
“Now, let’s go and find your client,” he said. “You’ve got a big day ahead, and you need to be mentally strong.” He squeezed her hand. “You ready to win this trial?”
She gave his hand a reciprocal squeeze. “Ready.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” he said. “If you need me or you feel unsafe, just turn around to face me and hold up your index finger. That’ll be our signal.”
She held up her finger. “Got it.”
He gave her one last hug, enjoying it far more than he should have. That conversation had served to draw his heart even closer to hers. Kindness was the only way forward, and they had now agreed to treat each other with mutual respect.
He just hoped she would be able to hold up her end of the bargain.
* * *
Josie rose from her chair, her legs slightly shaky and her palms sweaty. Allan Sanders was leaning back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face, having just displayed his superb skills as a prosecutor. His interviewing of Janice Weeks was impressive, clever and persuasive. He had presented Janice as someone of high standing in the community, respected and honest, as well as a decent, churchgoing woman. As a result, her testimony had been powerful, and Josie noticed the jury hanging on her every word as she told them of Norman’s approach to little Lisa and his guiding her into his home. Josie was now facing an uphill battle in her cross-examination.
“Miss Weeks,” she began, “how long have you known Norman Francis?”
Janice answered quickly, as if she had rehearsed the obvious questions. “Three years. I met him when I moved into the house next door.”
Josie smiled. “It’s a nice, quiet street, from what I know of it. Do you enjoy living there?”
Janice narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “It’s all right. Mostly I like it.”
“Mostly?” Josie repeated. “But not always?”
“Nowhere is perfect,” Janice replied crisply.
“I agree, Miss Weeks,” Josie said. “Small things can spoil an idyllic neighborhood, can’t they?” She raised her eyebrows. “Such as having an irritating neighbor. Do you have good relationships with your neighbors?”
As Josie had expected, Allan Sanders leaped to his feet. “Objection—immaterial.”
Josie faced the judge. “Your Honor, Miss Weeks’s relationship with Norman Francis, one of her neighbors, is very important. We must establish whether she has a motive to lie or exaggerate about what she saw.”
The judge nodded, his jowly, craggy face bathed in sunlight from the window. “I’ll allow it, but be careful, Counselor, and stick to her relationship with Mr. Francis only.”
Josie accepted this ruling with gratitude. That suited her just fine. As she sidestepped away from her chair, taking her time to gather her thoughts, she glanced behind and caught sight of Blade. He was standing tall and erect near the exit, arms folded, watching the proceedings intently. His mop of sandy hair stood above all else, and his deep-set eyes were almost impossible to see beneath his furrowed brow.
It seemed ridiculous to Josie that she had ever thought Blade’s disability would prevent him from standing for long periods. It seemed even more ridiculous that she believed he needed her help to compensate for his missing limb. He was strong and capable and steadfast. A pang of shame pierced her belly. Whatever reservations she’d had about his parenting of Archie, she should never have doubted him as a protector and bodyguard.
Come on, Josie, she told herself silently. Keep your focus on the witness.
“Is it true, Miss Weeks,” she began, deciding to come right out with what she wanted to probe, “that you and Norman Francis have a long-running feud regarding the persistent barking and howling of your pet dogs?”
Janice pinched her lips into a thin smile. She was a woman of fifty but looked much older, with hair set firm with hair spray and heavily applied spots of blush on her cheeks. She had the appearance of a sun lover, and a deep tan accentuated the lines around her mouth and eyes.
“I would hardly call it a feud,” Janice replied tersely. “Norman complained about my dogs’ barking a couple of times.”
“A couple of times?” Josie repeated. She checked her notes. “In fact, Norman Francis complained to Animal Control a total of twenty-three times over the course of two years, did he not?”
Janice shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t recall how many times it was.”
“And during those two years,” Josie continued, “Animal Control repeatedly warned you about your dogs’ barking and howling. In fact, you have been issued a number of fines, am I right?”
Josie noticed Allan Sanders’s leg twitching as if he wanted to jump up and object, but he knew he would be overruled. The bad blood between Janice and Norman was highly relevant.
“They’re basset hounds,” Janice said, throwing a wide smile at the jury. “They like to talk.” Her smile vanished when she turned her attention back to Josie. “Norman just isn’t a dog person.”
“Please answer the question, Miss Weeks,” Josie said, ignoring Janice’s attempt to sidetrack the jury. “Has Animal Control fined you for failing to curb the noise of your pet dogs?” She checked her notes again. “They’ve visited you twelve times, according to their records. Would you concur?”
Finally the answer came. “Yes.”
Before Josie could ask another question, Janice appeared to drop her mask of respectability, and her stony face reddened. She pointed to Norman, who was sitting hunched over, making himself as inconspicuous as possible.
“Instead of bombarding me with stupid questions, why don’t you ask him what happened to Buster? Go on, ask him. Let’s see what he has to say.”
Josie watched the spittle gather at the corners of Janice’s mouth. She was losing her cool. Allan Sanders could see it also and flew to his feet.
“Would the court entertain a request for a brief recess?” he asked, staring imploringly at Janice, clearly trying to drag her back on track.
The judge settled his eyes on Josie. “Do you object to this request, Counselor?”
“I most certainly do, Your Honor. I would prefer to continue my immediate questioning of this vital witness.”
The judge nodded his approval. “Your request is denied, Mr. Sanders. The defense counsel may proceed.”
Josie wasted no time in continuing. “Miss Weeks, may I ask who Buster is?”
“He’s one of my dogs,” Janice replied, her eyes watering. “Or rather, he was one of my dogs. I found him dead not long after I moved into the house next door to Norman.” She flared her nostrils as if a strong smell had reached her nose. “The vet said it was poison.”
Josie watched Allan Sanders put his head in his hands. This testimony was suddenly not looking so airtight.
Josie already knew the answer to her next question, and ideally, so would the jury.
“Why would you like me to ask Mr. Francis what happened to Buster?”
Janice locked eyes with Sanders and seemed to rally herself, taking heed of the prosecutor’s warning glance.
“I…um… I thought he might know who did it,” Janice replied nervously, tucking stiff hair behind her ears. “He knows a lot of people in the neighborhood, so I figured he would have a better idea than me.”
“But, Miss Weeks, you said yourself that Buster was poisoned shortly after you moved next door to Norman, which was three years ago. Why wait until you are sitting in a packed courtroom, giving important witness testimony, to ask this question of Norman? Why didn’t you ask him immediately after the incident?”
“I don’t know,” Janice said, regaining her composure. “This is a very nerve-racking experience.” Once again, she turned her head and smiled at the jury. “My mind isn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry for veering off track. Buster’s death upset me deeply.”
When she turned back to Josie, she appeared to be fully in control of her wayward emotions, and Josie began to panic that the defense had lost momentum. Then an idea struck her. Norman had not yet given her permission to divulge his disability to the courtroom, but it might be necessary in order to prove that Janice’s witness statement was untrue. She desperately hoped that Norman would understand.
“Miss Weeks,” Josie said, “you claim that you saw Norman lead Lisa Brown into his home by the hand. Is that correct?”
“Correct.”
“Do you recall what hand Norman used to do this?”
Janice cocked her head to the side, wondering why this information was important. She must have decided that it held no relevance. “His right hand.”
Josie felt a surge of excitement but remained impassive. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”
Janice closed her eyes, making a great pretense of remembering the incident. “I recall seeing Norman drag the girl up the path from my bedroom window. His back was turned to me, so from the angle I was watching, he must have been using his right hand to pull the girl behind him.” She smiled triumphantly, as if she had successfully backed up her memory with solid detail. “Yes, I’m sure of it. He had a good tight hold of her, too.”
Josie placed a hand on her client’s shoulder. “Can you stand up and remove your overcoat please, Norman?”
Norman snapped his head up to look at her sharply, his eyes showing hesitation. “Trust me,” she whispered, helping him to his feet. “This is the only way.
“It may surprise you to learn that Norman Francis suffers from a condition called cerebral palsy,” she said, slipping her client’s arms through his sleeves. “His right arm has virtually no strength or mobility at all.”
She stepped back to allow the witness and the jury to see Norman’s arm hanging limply inside his shirtsleeve, and a collective gasp was audible around the courtroom. Allan Sanders gave a small shake of his head and rubbed at his temples. As the prosecutor, he had been privy to Norman’s medical details, but Janice had not, and Sanders had been unable to warn his star witness of this potential complication due to the judge’s ruling on maintaining confidentiality.
Josie continued. “I’m afraid there is no way Norman could grip anyone’s hand, even that of a three-year-old girl, let alone drag her along a path. Maybe you are mistaken in your testimony, Miss Weeks, because it is entirely untrue.”
“Objection!”
Allan Sanders’s voice was loud and clear, but it was quickly drowned out by that of Janice Weeks, whose mask of calm once again slipped. This time it slid off entirely, revealing a face of unfettered anger.
“He did it!” she shrieked. “Just look at him. Of course he did it. He’s a dirty old man, walking around in that coat all the time. My friend Penny told me he exposed himself to her in the local park.”
Snickers and open laughter rippled around the court. Josie heard the prosecutor’s voice trying to rise above the noise. “Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor?”
But Janice wasn’t done yet and launched into another tirade. “And he poisoned my dog. I’m sure of it. I don’t believe he has any disease or condition or whatever you call it. I think he’s a fake and a phony, trying to get sympathy. He’s a nasty, horrible weirdo. I can’t stand living next door to him.”
The noise in the courtroom escalated as the people in the gallery began to speak openly to each other. The judge called for order as the prosecutor repeated his request to approach the bench. Yet the judge was too focused on bringing his courtroom back under control.
Josie needed to strike now, before proceedings were halted. She spoke over Allan Sanders’s request, knowing he was preparing to argue that his witness required a break.
“Miss Weeks, did you see Norman Francis take Lisa Brown into his home, yes or no?”
Janice spit out her reply, unleashing the venom she held for her elderly neighbor. “I saw that sweet girl skip right into his house all by herself. Poor little thing had no idea what kind of place she was walking into.” She pointed at Norman. “It’s obvious he’d bribed her inside somehow, but I had to embellish the details to make the police come quick. If I hadn’t called the cops, who knows what would’ve happened. I saved her. You should be thanking me.”
Josie raised her voice to a shout. “Please respond to the question with a yes or no answer. Did you see Norman Francis lead Lisa Brown into his home?”
Janice looked her squarely in the eye. “No, but he’s guilty anyway.”
With that, the courtroom erupted in shouts and calls, mingled with exclamations of surprise and horror from Lisa’s family.
Josie was elated, but she kept the presence of mind to do what was necessary.
“Your Honor,” she shouted above the noise. “I would like to make a motion to dismiss the charges against my client.”
Then she turned to smile at Blade. This was the perfect day so far. Everything had gone her way.
Yet her smile was short-lived. And in the next moment, her index finger went up into the air just as she and Blade had agreed.