Owen heard a rattle and looked toward the conference room door for about the sixth time that afternoon, but like all the other times, the sound appeared to come from someone walking by in the hall outside. There was no knock, the door didn’t open, and Summer didn’t walk through ready to work like last night hadn’t happened.
But last night had happened, and even if she couldn’t quite define what had gone wrong, she knew something had changed between her and Summer. What had felt like a mild flirtation had suddenly gone deep and intense, and the associated mix of feelings left her both confused and stimulated. She’d contemplated calling Summer several times after she’d left, but every time she stopped before connecting the call, unsure what she would say and even more unsure about what would happen if she opened the door. Because that’s what it felt like with Summer. Every time she spoke to her it was like she was inviting Summer to walk through spaces she’d never invited anyone else in. Spaces she wasn’t sure she wanted to revisit.
And then there was the connection between them so strong it felt like a bond, bridging thoughts and feelings between them, no words necessary. She’d never experienced anything like it, and she wasn’t sure she believed it had actually happened, but in the moment, she would’ve sworn Summer knew her every thought and vice versa. She’d probably just been high on the wine and the spice of the chili.
The chili. If Summer didn’t have any special powers, was the chili dinner and the reference to her mother nothing more than a lucky fortune-teller trick? Ever since leaving Summer’s house so abruptly the night before, she’d been mulling over why she’d reacted the way she had. Summer had made her favorite meal—a thoughtful, caring gesture. But Owen had stayed up half the night trying to think of a logical way Summer would’ve known chili was her comfort food, the one thing she and her parents would make themselves on the night the chef had off. She had vivid memories of her mother measuring out the spices while her dad grated the cheese and cut the onion. They’d load up big bowls and curl up in front of the huge screen in the media room to watch the Dallas Stars or the Mavericks when they were at away games. Her dad would announce that in his opinion watching from home was way better than watching the games from the suites they owned, and fourteen-year-old Owen agreed. She was always bored in the suite, not understanding why people would rather talk business than about the sporting event playing out only yards away. Plus, the fancy food they served was never as good as the chili her mother made.
She tore her gaze from the conference room door back to the whiteboard in the front of the room, and caught Mary staring at her with her eyebrows raised in question. “What?”
“I should be asking you,” Mary said. “You keep looking at that door and I can’t tell if you’re excited or scared of who might walk through.” She cocked her head. “I’m getting more of an excited vibe. Speaking of which, where is Kira? Are you and she back on again?”
Owen’s stomach clenched. “She’s bringing Joule in for trial prep. And no. Nothing’s going on between us. Never again.”
“Have you mentioned that to her?”
She hadn’t talked to Kira about anything but the case all week, which was her way of letting Kira know they needed to focus on the trial and nothing else. Ironic, considering she’d been having trouble of her own focusing on the trial since Mia insisted she bring Summer on board. But the fractured focus that came from her attraction to Summer was very different from the circumstantial loneliness that had drawn her to Kira. She’d spent most of the time since she’d left Summer’s house last night sorting through why, but the only conclusion she’d been able to reach was that both were affecting her work, and she needed to erect a boundary or her work would suffer. “No, but I think she gets the point.”
The door rattled again, but Owen resisted looking this time, conscious of Mary’s focused attention on her every move. She didn’t trust her ability to tamp down her excitement if Summer actually showed up, and she wasn’t interested in fielding a bunch of questions from Mary if she figured out why she was so jumpy. She kept her face fixed in what she hoped was a neutral expression and slowly turned to see who was at the door, relieved and disappointed to see Mia’s intern, Tad Wiley.
“Ms. Rivera asked me to let you know she’d like an update by end of day.” He was gone before either of them could reply.
“Great,” Mary said. “Tell her the update is we won’t know anything more until we start picking the jury on Monday.”
“I’ll come up with something to tell her,” Owen said. “I’m sure she’s getting calls from the press looking for a statement, and Adams is probably bugging her for intel about strategy.”
“How did your meeting with him go yesterday? Did Summer get any psychic vibes?”
“She says she did, but nothing specific about the case. It was weird, though. He really gravitated to her, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I actually felt like he was expressing some genuine emotions and not just the stuff he plays for the crowd to get votes.” It was Summer. She brought out the emotion in people. Owen knew it for a fact.
“Interesting. So, are you over the whole he hired someone to kill his wife thing?”
“I’m keeping my options open.” She remembered Summer’s reaction to the argument Adams had with the mayor. She’d explained it away as professional differences at the time, but had she been too quick to write it off? It was probably nothing. “He had a fight with the mayor. Right as we got to his office. It was heated,” she blurted out the words before she changed her mind.
“Okay. Do you think that has something to do with his wife?”
Now Owen felt silly for bringing up the disagreement. She was letting Summer’s woo-woo nonsense get in her head. “No, but if anything comes up during the trial to suggest he might’ve been involved, I’ll be leading the charge.” She heard the door open again and, assuming it was Tad again, she called out, “I promise I’ll update her before the end of the day, but if you keep interrupting, we won’t have anything to update her about.”
“Guess I picked a bad time to show up.”
Owen immediately recognized the soft, light cadence of Summer’s voice. “You came.” She blurted out the words as she turned to face her, before she could think to filter her thoughts. Totally out of character, but right now, in this moment, she didn’t care.
“Of course, I came. I promised, didn’t I?”
Owen tore away from the memories flooding her mind and focused her attention on Summer. She was beautiful inside and out. Owen could feel it with every ounce of her being, and she was so entirely relieved Summer had shown up today after she’d practically run from her the night before. “You did. Thank you.”
Mary cleared her throat and they both looked in her direction. Owen wondered if Summer could read Mary’s mind in this moment because she was pretty sure Mary was wondering what was going on between them. Owen couldn’t answer because she wasn’t sure. How would Summer respond if asked the same question?
“Hi, Summer,” Mary said. “Glad you could join us.”
Summer stepped farther into the room. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Not at all. Owen and I were just talking about your meeting with Commissioner Adams yesterday. We have a running battle over whether he was involved in his wife’s murder. Did you happen to get a read on that?”
“Mary!” Owen stared at her unable to believe she’d shared her private musings about Adams.
Mary hunched her shoulders. “What? She’s working with us on the case, right? Seems like she needs to know everything we’re thinking if she’s going to be helpful.”
Summer settled into a chair at the table across from Mary and a few feet from Owen. “She’s right. It is helpful if I know of any specific concerns you have. My mind-reading skills are not perfect, after all.” She grinned. “Seriously, if you have concerns about my ability to be discreet, don’t worry. I’ve worked closely with law enforcement and the district attorney in Santa Cruz and surrounding counties for years, and while my accuracy may have been called into question, my ethics were never an issue. Whatever you share here stays with me. You have my word.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t trustworthy,” Owen said.
“I know.”
A few beats of silence passed during which Owen wished she were alone with Summer so she could properly apologize for rushing off last night. For the first time in her life, she wanted to give another person some context about her life, to explain where she was coming from, and how she’d become who she was, share her secrets and wrest her way out from under them.
“I get you.”
Owen heard Summer’s voice clearly, but she was certain Summer hadn’t spoken the words out loud. She flicked a glance at Mary, whose expression hadn’t changed and showed no reaction to Summer’s words. She shook her head, unsure if she’d imagined the response, but deciding to accept it as legit, because real or imagined, it was exactly what she needed to hear.
“Do you want to hear my thoughts about Commissioner Adams?” Summer asked.
She wanted to hear lots of things, but none in front of Mary. “Yes,” Owen said. “Unvarnished truth. I could tell you had a strong connection with him.”
Summer steepled her fingers and closed her eyes for a moment. “We did connect, but not one on one. Despite the fact he appeared to show a lot of emotion toward the end of our visit, he was very walled off. I suppose it could have something to do with whatever he was arguing with the mayor about, but there’s a lot going on there, but it’s buried deep. Most of what I got was from another presence in the room. Female, very close to the commissioner.”
“Mrs. Adams?” Mary asked.
Summer nodded. “Could be. It was definitely someone who’s passed on, so it makes sense that it would be her. I didn’t see a recognizable image—mostly light and shadows—but the way she talked about him, it had to be someone close. She said things like he’s lost his way and bring him back. Something about digging deeper.”
“Well, that’s weird,” Owen said. “But it doesn’t sound exactly like he had anything to do with her dying. Wouldn’t she have mentioned it if that were the case?”
“Come on, Owen,” Mary said. “Summer already said it doesn’t work that way. She gets puzzle pieces and the entire box isn’t necessarily on display to give her the big picture.”
“True,” Summer said. “I wasn’t sure what to make of what she said at the time, and part of that was because the encounter was incredibly intense—it left me feeling out of sorts and fuzzy about exactly what she said. Now that I know you have some concerns about whether he was involved in his wife’s death, I feel like there’s some energy around that, even some guilt, but no blame from her at all, if that makes any sense.”
“Not really,” Owen said. “Either he was involved or he wasn’t. Can you ask her?”
“Sure. We’re going to happy hour together later and I’ll ask her then.”
“Very funny,” Owen said. “Okay, I get it. She doesn’t show up on command, but maybe there’s a way to conjure her up?”
“I can try, but I can’t promise anything. These spirits run the show. They are the ones who decide to come forward. It’s not like I woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I think I’ll talk to dead people today and see what I can find out about the world.’”
Owen started to ask Summer if she’d always possessed this skill, talent, whatever, but the question felt intimate and she resolved to wait until they were alone. “How about we move on since there’s plenty of other stuff to work on. The witness who saw the defendant leaving Adams’s house is coming in today. You know, the guy who you saw being strangled.” Owen tapped her own head to indicate “saw” meant intuited, and was surprised she didn’t feel compelled to roll her eyes at the idea Summer had indeed seen the attack on Joule. When had her perspective shifted and would it affect her ability to sort fact and fiction when it came to the evidence in this case? She shoved the thoughts aside and refocused on their plan for the day. “And we were going over questions for the jury panel and our ideas about the ideal juror for this case. Are you okay sticking around to work with us?”
“Absolutely. Nan and Faith are headed to a movie tonight and I told them I might be late.”
Owen’s mind wandered to ideas about getting Summer alone. So they could talk. And…whatever else she could conjure up to do with Summer on her own. Right now, her mind was doing a lot of conjuring. She shook her head to do a reset and get back to focusing on the case. “Perfect. While we wait for the witness, let’s talk about juries. I figure since you were on one recently, you might have some good insights.”
She grinned to let Summer know she’d gotten past the verdict in the Jex case. She hadn’t really, but she no longer blamed Summer. If the jury had that many questions about the defendant’s guilt, she’d done something wrong during the trial, and better to learn more about that now than when she was in trial on a much bigger case.
“I do have a few things to mention,” Summer said, “but you may not want to hear them.”
“Try us,” Mary said.
“Trying to figure out what you need in a juror in advance is a waste of time.”
✥ ✥ ✥
Summer watched Owen’s and Mary’s faces and could tell they were gearing up to defend their position. Owen’s first words after her conclusive statement left no doubt.
“You think we don’t know what we’re doing?” Owen asked.
The edge in Owen’s voice was undeniable. Summer didn’t want to argue with her, but she also didn’t want to work on this case if she wasn’t able to express her opinions without being dismissed. She summoned the confidence that came from years of reading people more thoroughly than most. “You can’t do this in the abstract. You’d be better off just taking the first twelve people on the panel and focusing your efforts on the evidence in the case.”
Owen stiffened, and Summer could feel the tension coming off her in waves. Thankfully, Mary spoke first. “Tell us what you mean.”
“I’ve helped pick lots of juries. The benefit of not being one of the trial lawyers is I get to spend more time looking at the case from a lay person’s point of view. The most important thing I’ve learned is that the lawyers about to try the case are way too immersed in the facts and law, and they have a tendency to project that knowledge onto the people on the jury panel.” Summer cleared her throat and took a moment to connect with Owen before she continued speaking. “Don’t take this personally.” “Take for example the jury I was on a couple of weeks ago. Remember Wayne?”
Owen rolled her eyes. “Mr. I Just Have One More Thing To Say About That?” She turned to Mary. “Showboat, know-it-all. Very law-and-order.”
“Right,” Summer said. “I bet you and Ben both thought he was going to be the jury foreman and that quiet little me was someone you didn’t have to worry about at all. Am I right?”
Owen hesitated a second, and Summer could tell she was trying to come up with something to say that didn’t make her look like a jerk for thinking Wayne, the guy who fancied himself the lord of all the jurors, was more likely to be voted in as foreman than her.
“Yes, you’re right. In my experience,” Owen said, “the loudmouths have a tendency to bully their way into power, and a contributing factor is the rest of the jurors aren’t interested in taking on the responsibility. Besides, you didn’t say a word while you were on the panel.”
“True, but you know that’s fairly common. And I’m sure as obnoxious as Wayne was during voir dire, you didn’t strike him because you thought he was a sure guilty vote. And he was. For the first few rounds, but then his unwillingness to even try to see another side started to turn the rest of the jurors off.”
“Or you were simply more persuasive in your defense of the guy with the drugs in his car.”
The edge of sarcasm in Owen’s voice was expected, but it still riled Summer. “Seriously? I spent the last few years of my life helping convict criminals and send them to prison. Do you really think I suddenly developed an aversion to seeing people who do bad things get punished?”
Mary raised a hand. “How about we all assume we’re on the same side until proven otherwise.” She shot a look at Owen who nodded slowly. “Okay then. Summer, tell us where you’re going with all this.”
“Almost everyone can be persuaded. The ones that can’t—crime victims, law enforcement personnel—you or defense counsel should be able to identify and strike for cause, but the rest can be won to your side as long as you know what makes them tick and you’re willing to tailor your case to fit their worldview in some way. I’ve observed a lot of trial attorneys, and all of them know their cases better than anyone else, but the jurors only hear the story once. Whatever you say, starting with voir dire, has to resonate with them right away or it won’t stick. If it doesn’t stick, then they get back in that jury room and they can be swayed to either side. The mistake most lawyers make is they assume jurors approach the case with the same worldview they have, but it’s not that simple.” Summer stopped talking, concerned she was starting to sound like she knew more than they did about trying cases. “Look, I know you know this stuff, but it’s easy to lose perspective when you’re in the middle of the process.”
“And how do you suggest we accomplish getting in the heads of these jurors right from the start?” Owen asked.
“Start by practice pitching your case to someone who knows nothing about it. Someone whose place in life and/or worldview is very different than your own. Get their feedback. Listen to what they say they heard. Remember, they only get to hear the evidence one time. If the person you’re pitching to asks you to repeat what you’ve said, politely tell them no and watch them struggle to come to a decision. Remember that when you’re in court so that you can ensure you make the most of the important points. And listen to what they’re not saying.”
“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” Owen asked.
“Sure, but it’s a skill you can learn if your mind is quiet and open to hearing.”
“Now, you’re telling us we should read the jurors’ minds and you’re going to teach us how?”
Summer laughed. “If only. Then I could collect my paycheck and go home and change into leggings and a baggy T-shirt while you two do battle in court.” Owen and Mary didn’t join in her laughter. Instead they both just looked puzzled. “I’m no guru with a box full of tricks to tell you how to pick the perfect juror. The best help I can give you is to say that you should not go into voir dire with specific expectations about what you want in a juror. Instead, think about how you can frame your case for all different mindsets. Developing that kind of strategic flexibility of persuasion is the way to bring anyone to your side. Assuming the defendant is guilty.”
“Wait, what?” Mary asked.
“If your defendant isn’t guilty, there’s an energy against a guilty verdict. It’s not perfect and maybe none of your jurors will pick up on it, but if they do, it will be very hard to persuade them otherwise. As it should be. I give you Mr. Jex as an example.” She raised her hand to stop Owen who was leaning forward like she was dying to interject. “Yes, he was in a car that had drugs in it, and yes, he had a prior, but he had absolutely no idea there was marijuana in the back seat console. I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt and my certainty helped convince five other jurors. Truth is a powerful thing.”
The conference room door rattled, and Kira walked in. The room was quiet as she entered, and Summer figured Mary and Owen were busy trying to think of ways to ditch her so they could go back to working on the case their old way and not with some crazy mind reader pushing her theories on mind-bending juries. Kira glanced her way and Summer caught the hint of animosity, but she met it with a big smile. “Hi, Kira, nice to see you again.”
Kira mumbled something that sounded a little like “hello” and focused her attention on Owen. “He’s here. Are you ready for him?”
“Give us a minute.” Owen held up her phone. “I’ll text you as soon as we’re ready.”
Kira frowned. “Yeah, okay. You’re the boss.” She stepped out of the room and let the door slam against the frame.
Owen sighed and Mary said, “Don’t mind her. She’s cranky, but it’s not about you.”
Summer was pretty sure that wasn’t true. She was certain Kira had a thing for Owen, so anyone who was lucky enough to have Owen’s focus would draw Kira’s ire. The question was, did Owen have a thing for Kira? She listened to the quiet for a few moments but didn’t pick up on anything to tip her off. Whatever Owen’s feelings were about Kira, they were guarded, which might mean she didn’t want to expose their relationship if there was one. Whatever. It wasn’t any of her business, but damn if she didn’t really, really want to know.
“Before we bring this witness in,” Owen said. “Tell me everything you already know about him. And not just what you told the duty sergeant when you called the precinct. I want to know everything.”
“What I knew then or now?”
“Both.”
Summer got it. This was a test, but Owen didn’t have an objective way to measure her truth-telling, so she was trying to box her in on what she already knew about Leo Joule in case she tripped up. “Before I called, I only knew a few things. I ran into him at the courthouse the day I was here for Mr. Jex’s trial. He asked me where to find one of the courtrooms, and I suggested he talk to the security guards. I got a strong feeling of danger from him—not that he was dangerous, but that danger surrounded him.” She shook her head, anticipating Owen’s question. “It wasn’t any more specific than that.”
She closed her eyes and relived the experience, her senses flooding with anxiety and an urgent impulse to flee. Accompanied by the strong desire for Thai food. “Wait. I remember immediately craving Thai food, and the name of this place I’d never been popped in my head. Simply Thai. Nan and Faith and I went there for dinner. I had another experience near the restaurant, closer to one of those pay lots downtown.”
“What kind of experience?” Mary asked.
“It’s hard to explain because the details are vague, but someone grabbed me from behind and choked me. I didn’t see who and they didn’t say anything else, but it wasn’t me they were choking. Someone was showing me what was happening.”
Owen furrowed her brow. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s hard to explain, but while I felt like I was being choked in the moment, I could see the action from two vantage points. Me, being choked and also me, standing off to the side watching me being choked.”
“That sounds like one of those out-of-body, near-death experiences,” Mary said. “Where people report they are floating above their body and can see what’s happening but can’t do anything to change it until they get back inside.”
“It’s a lot like that. The difference was I know it wasn’t happening to me because the victim’s voice wasn’t mine. I felt all the sensations but still experienced nothing specific enough to alert the police. Then I started having dreams where I still felt like I was choking, but the other me, the one standing off to the side was able to register more details. I recognized the place, the tiny scar on the victim’s face. I talked about it with Nan and we decided I should call it in even if I sounded like a wacko.” She smiled, hoping to add some levity to the room. “The next morning, Owen and Kira showed up on my doorstep. And here we are.”
“And where is that, exactly?” Kira asked. “Have your special powers led you to any special insights about the case?”
Summer spotted Owen glaring at Kira, and she spoke quickly to keep Owen from fighting her battles. “I don’t have any special powers. I just reported what I saw. The way I saw it might be unconventional, but I’m no different than anyone who comes forward with information about a crime.”
“How about we bring in Joule and talk to him?” Mary said.
“Great idea,” Owen replied. “And, Summer?”
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to take the lead on this. Walk him through what he remembers about the night of the murder. Mary and I will ask any follow-up questions after you’re done. Okay?”
Summer tensed for a moment, knowing what a huge step it was for Owen to hand over the reins in this way, and appreciating the gesture of confidence. She sensed Owen wouldn’t appreciate her making a big deal of it, though, so she kept her response simple even though she wanted to be much more effusive. “Okay.”
Maybe she’d have a chance later to show Owen her appreciation. In private.