One Juror Down

A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

One Juror Down ISBN 9781419909726 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. One Juror Down Copyright© 2007 Heather Hiestand Edited by Helen Woodall. Cover art by Nikki Browning. Electronic book Publication: July 2007

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

ONE JUROR DOWN Heather Hiestand

Dedication This book is dedicated to my talented sister Katie. Thank you for all the support over the years. Sisters!

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Florsheim: Florsheim Group Inc. Mercedes: DaimlerChrysler AG Corporation Oprah: Harpo, Inc. Polartec: Ads Properties Corp. Scrabble: Hasbro, Inc. Valium: Hoffmann-La Roche Inc. Vicodin: Knoll Pharmaceutical Company

One Juror Down

Prologue

Friday, late May Quinn forced himself to open the note. Written on cheap paper and folded into a flimsy envelope, it smelled like a jail cell. He knew it was from Nesell. How had the man managed to get it to him from behind bars? If you want to live, restore my freedom. The jury must vote not guilty. As I promised, your wife is under my protection, but you? I do not value your life so highly. Joey swallowed and dropped the note on his battered coffee table. A flashback of that afternoon, of Nesell shoving a pistol in his face, of Brenda begging for his life, sizzled in his memory. Joey paced his small living room for hours, wearing a track in the plush beige carpet that still bore the remnants of bloodstains from the beating he had taken that day. No matter what scenario came to him it had the same conclusion. Brenda would insist on testifying and he’d lose her forever if he prevented it. He could not stop this train wreck from happening. Stop being a pessimist, he ordered himself. There were ways. Everything he had done built a home and security for his young family. He was going to get his wife back, his unborn child too. He would do anything to keep them in his life. Nesell had forced him to this point. The only thing to do was scare the jury into acquitting the man. He’d have to check through his network of associates, have them track any weak spots in the jurors, any secrets he could exploit. There was always violence, if intimidation or blackmail failed. He had only a short time to fix this mess. Seated on his black leather couch, he pulled out his notepad with the list of juror names he had gleaned during the jury selection process. Ryan. Cameron. Bellair. Now wait a minute. That name sounded familiar. He picked up his cell phone and said “Beau” into the receiver. The phone started to dial and within three rings a man’s voice came through the receiver. “You,” Joey barked. “Tell me where I’ve heard the name Bellair before.”

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Chapter One Monday

The courtroom was smaller than Cass Bellair expected, more constricting. The exhausted victim in the witness box, tawny hair hiding her bowed head, sat only inches away from the plush juror chairs. The counsel tables were just a few feet from Cass, Juror One on this trial, The State of Washington vs. Oscar Nesell. “Did the defendant tell you to ‘shut the hell up’?” Mary Diamond, the prosecutor, demanded, ignoring the tears trickling down Brenda Quinn’s pretty face. Painfully young and very pregnant, the girl elicited great sympathy from Cass, who knew what it felt like to be in her shoes. “Objection, leading the witness,” the defense attorney said from the counsel table. A gaunt man in his fifties, he had a hangdog expression suggesting he didn’t want to be there. “Sustained, rephrase the question, please,” Judge Yu responded. “What did the defendant say after he escorted you into the bathroom?” Mary Diamond said quickly, without looking at the judge. Cass squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if hiding from the testimony would help. To distract herself, Cass glanced at Juror Two next to her, hoping to gauge his reaction. An elderly gentleman, the only juror wearing a suit, shifted anxiously in his chair. She could hear other jurors rustling in their seats behind her and had to admit this was the first time any of the proceedings of the court had seemed like the trial shows on television. Until now the testimony had been delivered in dispassionate monotones. Brenda sniffed. “I don’t remember the words exactly, ma’am. I was so frightened, I—” “Calm down, Brenda, take as much time as you need.” The prosecutor scanned the jury, no doubt to see what they thought about Brenda’s testimony so far. Behind Cass, a juror sneezed. The cottonwood seeds that blew for a couple of weeks right before school let out for summer turned the Seattle area into a paradise for allergy doctors. After the second sneeze, Cass turned her head slightly and saw the hunky juror in the back row hand the sneezer, a girl who Cass had dubbed the barista from the way she reeked of coffee, a handkerchief. The hunk’s name was Ben and he was delicious. Ben’s well-formed head was crowned with thick, wavy dark hair that begged her hands to run through it. He had broad shoulders, a tapered torso and biceps that bulged in the black T-shirt he wore.

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She wished she knew how to get his attention, but she hadn’t been sure of herself in that way for a long time. The witness leaned forward, pushing at the wooden ledge before her with her hands as if to resist her own words. “He said to stay quiet so he and Joey could transact their business.” She glanced nervously at Oscar Nesell, who sat, dressed in the same baggy gray suit he had worn both days, with his attorney at the counsel table. The defendant seemed calm, but Cass had seen the thug-style picture of him admitted into evidence over the protests of the defense attorney. His head had been shaved bald and he wore a long black leather trench coat covered by a thick chain from which dangled a gold medallion so large it looked fake, black leather gloves and heavy black boots. The suit, military haircut and unthreatening posture of Mr. Oscar Nesell that the court saw now were the act. The nastiness underpinning his quick, sharp movements and constant loud whispers in his attorney’s ear were the clues to his real personality. During voir dire, the jury selection process, Cass had raised her hand when the defense attorney asked if anyone had ever been robbed or held against their will. Since she’d been prospective Juror Thirty-two, the attorneys had never gotten the chance to follow up. Only forty minutes were permitted to each lawyer to discover which of them would be best suited to bring in their desired, though opposing, verdicts. If they had found the time to get her story, they never would have selected her for service. She’d be at work, living her no-surprises life, shielded from a trial depicting another version of the horror she and her sister Georgia escaped. The trial was giving her nightmares. The defendant and a couple of his friends had allegedly broken into a young couple’s house and held them hostage until Joey Quinn, the male victim, had given Nesell the diamond engagement ring he had purchased for his then-fiancée, now wife. Why any of this had happened, Cass hadn’t heard explained yet. As she knew, violence didn’t have to make sense. When Cass heard the description of the trial, she had considered asking to be excused but she hated to shirk her civic duties. She would try to make it fun by getting to know her fellow jurors. “You spoke to the defendant again later that day?” As Mary Diamond walked Brenda through her testimony, she stepped into the center of the courtroom. Cass winced as she got a look the prosecutor’s shoes. The prosecutor couldn’t be more than thirty-five, but she was wearing a duplicate of Grandma’s sensible no-scuff shoes with her black acetate pantsuit. Cass peeked at Ben out of the corner of her eye. She needed to concentrate but his sexy presence acted like a magnet drawing her attention to him. He, on the other hand, was calmly paying attention to the testimony, completely oblivious to her fascination with him. “Yes, ma’am, I saw him later that day,” Brenda whispered. Her voice had a faded quality like wind through fall leaves.

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The judge jumped in before Mary Diamond had a chance to ask her next question. “Is this a good time to stop?” The prosecutor glanced at the wall clock. It hung behind the bailiff above a series of calendars. “Certainly, Your Honor.” The judge nodded in the direction of the jurors. “Ms. Lincoln will escort you to the jury room. We will reconvene in about fifteen minutes. Remember your instructions. Don’t talk about the trial to anyone and keep an open mind.” Cass shuffled out behind the elderly gentleman and caught a glimpse of Ben pulling out his cell phone behind her. She wished he didn’t intimidate her. He had a selfcontained air as if the jury experience was just a movie set he was passing through. After the bailiff escorted them across the hall the jurors took seats around the bleached oak table in the jury room. A few people lined up in chairs against the wall and read the old magazines that rested on a table to one side, or a book they brought from home. So far the room had been mostly silent. A short corridor and two bathrooms were included in their suite. But even there privacy was an illusion, with no fans to mask sound. Unless Ben went to lunch with her she wouldn’t have a chance to get to know him, to figure out if his appeal was merely physical or if there was more to him. The barista moaned loudly and sank into the seat next to her. “Can you believe this?” A short, balding, thirtyish man grimaced at her. “We can’t talk about it.” “I wasn’t talking about the testimony,” she said. “I don’t work Mondays and Tuesdays. This is supposed to be my weekend!” A small Asian man who had worn the same heavy sweater both days spoke up. “I’m not missing work. I’ve been laid off for eight months. I need to be job hunting and this is my second jury duty since I lost my job.” Murmurs of sympathy went around the room. Ben took his cell phone away from his ear. Cass waited with rapt attention. Would he speak for once? “My company could lose half a million dollars if we don’t finish the trial this week,” he said, dialing another number on his phone. Wow, Cass thought, wondering what he did for a living. She’d never come close to half a million dollars. The elderly gentleman spoke, in a voice so quiet everyone bent forward to hear. “Judge Yu said it was unlikely we would.” A young black man in a track suit and high top sneakers said, “It’s just burglary with some other shit tacked on. It won’t take no time at all.” “Be quiet!” the little balding man barked. “I’ll have to report you if you say one more thing about the case!” “Who died and made you foreman?” the barista muttered, but no one else spoke for the rest of the break. 8

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Cass entertained herself by writing down Grandma’s shopping list. If she didn’t pick up her pain-relieving ointment on the way home tonight, Grandma would probably wake at three a.m. with back pain. She sneaked glances at Ben from time to time but he was busy talking on his phone. The gestures he made with his free hand were sharp yet graceful. She wondered how his hands would feel on her and felt her cheeks heat at the thought. After they filed back into the jury box, Cass noticed Brenda wasn’t standing in the witness box and wasn’t even in the courtroom. Judge Yu announced, “We have a change of plans, ladies and gentlemen. I apologize for interrupting Mrs. Quinn’s testimony, but due to scheduling conflicts the State will be calling Detective Ron Placer to the stand now.” He sure wasn’t her idea of a cop, Cass thought as an unkempt, spider-lean, sandyhaired man strolled in. He was clad in a stained T-shirt, jeans and motorcycle boots. Her sister Georgia would have dropped at this guy’s feet in an instant, but he wasn’t quite her type. The clerk swore him in and he stepped into the witness box carrying a blue binder. “Thank you for being here, Detective Placer,” Mary Diamond said, smiling for the first time. “You’re coming in from the field, correct?” “Yes, ma’am.” The police officer glanced over to the judge. “I apologize for appearing in the court in undercover attire, but I didn’t have time to change.” “That’s fine, Detective,” the judge said. “We understand.” Cass uncapped her pen and opened the steno pad the bailiff had provided for each juror. The detective’s testimony must be important to interrupt the victim’s like this. “Where were you on November second?” the prosecutor asked. Her tone had softened considerably. Cass bet she had a crush on the detective, but she wasn’t helping her case any with her dowdy appearance. The detective lowered his eyelids and pursed his lips. “I was at a meeting at a hotel in SeaTac, then Sergeant Carlyle called us back to the Tukwila precinct due to a kidnapping in process.” “Okay and what did you do next?” “We proceeded to—” Detective Placer bowed his head and opened his binder, running his finger quickly down pages until he found what he was looking for. “Are those your case notes?” Mary Diamond inquired. “Yes,” Detective Placer said. “Right. We proceeded to 15203 Gunderson Boulevard where we found a girl crying in the parking lot of the condominium complex. She was with two other individuals.” “Are any of these individuals in the courtroom today?” Detective Placer pointed to Oscar Nesell. “The individual in the white shirt and brown tie.”

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Nesell sneered when Placer pointed at him. Cass could feel the menace from her seat in the jury box. Nesell, whatever he was, had a powerful presence. “Let the record reflect that Detective Placer pointed out Oscar Nesell,” the prosecutor said, then slowly led the detective through the events of that day until it was lunchtime. “Remember your jury instructions, ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Yu instructed. “Keep an open mind and don’t discuss anything you’ve heard just yet. There are plenty of other things to talk about during lunch. How about those Mariners?” Cass followed the other jurors down the back hall, past courtrooms, jury rooms, judges’ offices and administrative spaces of various kinds, until they came to the secured door that would lead them to the outside world until one-twenty p.m. As she walked, she felt the sexy prickles at the back of her neck that indicated Ben was behind her. They stepped out from the security-locked door, Ben now next to her. “Steps or elevator?” she asked shyly, hoping he would stay with her. Being so close, she noticed his hands, always her favorite part of a man. Unexpectedly, they were work-roughened with calluses and scars. “C’mon.” He gestured toward the staircase. “We need the exercise after sitting all morning.” Cass felt herself smile. Was he asking her to lunch? Wavy dark hair fell into his Caribbean blue eyes as they walked behind the elevator bank to the stairs. “I’m active by nature. I can’t stand sitting all the time.” “It’s tough to sit and listen, but the testimony is interesting,” she shivered. “And scary.” “Yeah.” He touched the cell phone on his belt, a gesture Cass thought must be unconscious. “I guess.” “I thought about requesting hardship withdrawal myself,” Cass said, feeling sympathy for the obviously busy man. They reached the first floor of the courthouse and went through the doors to the right of the security guards, then stepped together into one of the sections of the revolving door. “Do you own a business too?” Ben asked. The sun was out—a day to play rather than be cooped up outside. Behind them someone sneezed. Cass’ ears detected the barista. The cottonwood fuzz, like dandelion seeds floating through the air, must really get to her. She wished she and Ben could escape somewhere and talk, but there weren’t many places to eat around here, so there was always someone from the courthouse on hand. They had to display their white paper badges with “Juror” printed in large green letters prominently at all times so it was obvious who they were. Even if Ben were interested in her for some crazy reason, they wouldn’t have any privacy to get to know each other.

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“No, I don’t own a business,” Cass said. “My grandmother is having some health issues and I live with her. I’m worried about leaving her alone so much during this trial.” “That sucks,” the barista said, tucking a tissue into the sleeve of her black cotton blouse as she caught up to them. The thin, dark girl’s nose was reddened around the nostrils and her wide eyes were bloodshot and tired-looking. “How old is she?” Cass resigned herself to company on what might have been her first lunch date in months. The poor girl needed to take her mind off her allergies, after all. “She’s eightynine.” “Wow and she’s still alive?” The girl shuddered. “I believe in living fast and dying young myself.” Ben chuckled. “From the sounds of it, the cottonwood is trying to grant your request.” “My parents moved away just to escape it,” the girl said with a toss of her hair. “At least I can function. Where are you eating today? I ate at a sandwich place on Friday and CoffeeHaus is for breakfast.” “I know a Mexican place on the other side of the train tracks,” Ben said and pointed them in the right direction. At least they were going to eat together. It was a start. “There’s a fast food restaurant there too, I think,” the girl said. “Someone mentioned that.” “I think you’re right,” Ben said. He put on a pair of round-lens sunglasses, making him look even more mysterious. Cass wondered how old he was. Thirty, maybe? Certainly closer to her age than to the barista’s. “What’s your name?” she asked the girl. “Ryan,” she answered, rubbing her nose. “Ryan Ryan. How stupid is that? Figures I was born during the cottonwood season. My parents must not have been able to think straight.” “I think your name is cute,” Ben commented, his lips upturned. Rats, Cass thought. He’s flirting with the younger girl! But if she played it cool she wouldn’t look hopeless, like Mary Diamond with that cop. As they entered the Mexican restaurant, Ben smiled at Cass. “Have you been on jury duty before?” At least Ben was too classy to ignore her. “No, have you?” “It’s been about eight years, never been on a trial before though.” “This is my first time.” Ryan grinned sassily. “It’s rare I can say that about anything these days.” “How old are you?” Ben asked, the corners of his mouth turning up again. Relief swept over Cass. Now she could tell Ben was humoring Ryan.

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“Twenty-one,” Ryan said. Ben drew in a breath. “Ouch.” He turned to Cass. “And you? I don’t want to corrupt any innocents here.” “I’m past the corruptible age,” she assured him. “Okay,” he said, then was distracted by the counter attendant asking for his order. After they put in their orders and chose salsa and chips from the salsa bar, they found a table and sat. “We’ve got Ryan’s name, age and personal history,” Cass said when they had their food. “What about you, Ben?” He swallowed his chip. “Cameron is the last name. I’m twenty-nine. I own Cameron Construction Company.” The two women shared a smile. Then Cass remembered the younger woman was a rival and bent her head to her chicken enchilada. “What about you?” Ryan asked. Cass would rather have had Ben ask that question, but she answered anyway. “Cass Bellair, twenty-five, floral design specialist at Bellair Floral and Gift—my sisterin-law owns it.” “I know that shop,” Ryan exclaimed. “It’s only a few blocks from here. I got my prom boutonnière there.” Ben’s eyebrows rose. “You’re younger than you think if your prom is still fresh in your mind.” Ryan flashed small white teeth. “Sure I remember. This is the Pacific Northwest. That was the last time I wore a formal dress.” “I do a lot of flowers for proms,” Cass admitted. “My sister-in-law is going to get really behind without me.” “Can’t you go in during the evenings?” Ben asked. “I’m not sure when I’m going to sleep until the trial is over.” An image of Ben sleeping at her side flashed through her mind. An impossible dream, to be sure. “No, I have to get Grandma’s dinner on the table at five-thirty. She’s a terror about that. She has her program to watch at seven. Can you imagine? An eighty-nine-year-old lady addicted to a cheesy sitcom? After that I help her bathe and go to bed except when I’ve got class.” “Why don’t you move out?” Ryan suggested. “You’ve got your own life to live.” Cass remembered how Grandma had taken her in nearly six years ago, how she’d even given up a cruise holiday to take care of Cass in those early days. “She gave me a home after some stuff happened to me. It’s not so bad, she’s only been an invalid for a few months.” “It sounds like the two of you are taking turns caring for each other,” Ben said. “I think that’s great.”

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Cass felt a warm glow at his compliment. “Did you grow up here?” Ben asked. “Yes, why?” she asked, surprised he was continuing to ask questions, as if he was really interested in her. “I knew a Bellair. We went to school together. What was her name?” His brow scrunched in thought. “I sure wish we could talk about this case,” Ryan said, nibbling on a corn chip. “I’m already confused. I mean, if we’re supposed to assume the defendant is innocent the whole time we’re sitting there, what’s the point?” “I wish I knew more law,” Cass admitted. Ben set down his fork. “I don’t see why we can’t discuss the basic concepts.” Cass had to admit that she wanted to talk too. “I think we’re supposed to be listening for ways in which the defendant might be innocent.” Ben leaned forward. Cass mirrored his body language and leaned forward too. Ryan sat back and grabbed another chip. “I know they told us not to think this way,” he said, “but the way I figure it, they aren’t going to spend all this time and money to bring us here unless they’ve got a convincing case against the guy. Sure they want to stack the jury with sympathetic people, but we aren’t here for our own entertainment. Unless, of course, you want to believe the cops are corrupt and planted the evidence.” The arms he crossed over his solid chest at that final remark demonstrated how he felt about that idea. Ryan rolled her eyes. “Most of the evidence so far has been on Joey Quinn’s battered body. You can’t fake that, unless the cops themselves beat him up.” With a grin that showed off dimples, Ben put a finger to his lips. “I think it’s exciting,” Cass admitted. “Of course, my life is pretty boring.” Ryan looked at her watch. “Sorry guys, but I’m kind of a control freak. We’re going to be late if we don’t get out of here.” Ben glanced at his own watch. “You’re right.” They quickly disposed of their trays and left the restaurant. As they headed toward the courthouse, Ryan began to sneeze again. “I’m sorry,” she said around her tissue. “Antihistamines aren’t helping much.” “There’s a natural remedy store in Kent,” Cass suggested. “Have you tried alternative medicine? My grandmother got great results with it for her arthritis.” “Really?” Ryan turned reddened eyes and nose to Cass. “Maybe I’ll go after the trial lets out one of these days. But I have to wait until payday.” The warning lights were flashing when the three reached the train tracks. Cass wondered if they were crossing to the wrong side of the tracks or if they were on that side now. This part of Kent seemed abandoned even in the middle of the day. Ben glanced at Ryan. “Will we make it?”

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“I think so. We should have five minutes to spare.” The train began to rumble past. Cass felt a tingle on her neck and turned to see Ben speaking to her. She could see his lips move but couldn’t hear the words. As the train pulled away from them she finally heard what he was saying to her. “Now I remember my classmate’s name. Georgia Bellair. Is she related to you, Cass? She married a buddy of mine from college. His name is Doug. Doug Frye.” Cass stole a choking breath. Even the name made her feel sick, made her eyes dart, looking for a hiding place she’d never be able to find, because the memories were locked in her head.

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Chapter Two The wind whipped Cass’ long, sunny blonde hair over her face, blocking her expression, but the abrupt silence at the mention of his college buddies told Ben he had said something to upset her. He had wondered what became of Georgia and Doug. When they moved to Yakima about a year after college graduation he had lost touch with Doug. It had to have been four or five years since he received a Christmas card from him. He didn’t even know if the two were still married. But his interest in them faded quickly in the aftermath of his comment’s effect on Cass. He certainly hadn’t wanted to upset this pretty and somehow fragile woman. Though he hadn’t been dating this year because he was so busy keeping his business afloat, he’d been flattered by the way the two women hung on his every word. Until the point when he’d asked about the Fryes. Maybe he was flattering himself. At any rate, Ryan, though attractive in a brittle way, was too young and much too hard for him. Cass though, she was softer, more sympathetic, more womanly. His type. He felt a special bond to anyone who cared for her grandmother. His own last living grandmother, three years gone now, had been a terror, but as Cass said of her own, his grandmother had been there in those rough months long ago when he needed her. He appreciated the rarity of finding someone whose looks and actions were so appealing in one package. Unfortunately she didn’t appear to feel the same way. As the warning lights stopped and the barriers blocking the tracks rose, Cass walked in front of him with quick, jerky steps as if she were upset and couldn’t get away fast enough. She was thinner than he considered ideal because it meant she lacked a little of those feminine curves but what she had moved like an enticement to sin. Her hiptwitching walk, completely unconscious he was sure, had him thinking thoughts that had no place on a day when he was deciding whether a man should spend years in prison. He followed her back to the courthouse, knowing he’d have to save any pursuit of her until later, after he figured out why mentioning Georgia and Doug upset her so much.

***** Ben looked thoughtful, Cass noticed, as he held out his arms so that the security guard could run his wand across them. He seemed settled, confident. He didn’t have the anxious look in his eye that most people did whose lives had crossed Doug Frye’s.

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She had never understood what her older sister, Georgia, had seen in Doug. Georgia was four years older than Cass and had met Doug in her junior year in college. Cass had been in a teenage phase where her former hero worship of her sister had turned into loathing and there was no initial surprise when Georgia started dating someone she couldn’t stand. Her opinion of him had never improved. Cass followed her fellow jurors across the white marble floor of the lobby. She had scrutinized Ben as much as she could without being rude, but even taking into account the years since all contact with Doug had blessedly ceased, she couldn’t remember having seen Ben Cameron before. Of course Doug’s friends were of the casual drinkingbuddy type. There was no reason she’d have met them. Also, Doug was the sort of person who had secrets, deadly ones. She and Georgia had nearly died because of Doug’s secrets. After their father’s abandonment of his family, the desertion of Cass’ ex-boyfriend, which had led her to Yakima in the first place and finally, the nightmare Doug had put them through, she had learned not to trust men. She certainly knew better than to trust Ben, who had connected himself to their tormentor with his own words. The bailiff, D’Shelle Lincoln, stuck her head over the railing-surrounded circular opening in the floor above their heads. “Are all the jurors for Judge Yu here?” Ryan yelled, “Yeah!” to the bailiff and D’Shelle motioned for them to come to the fourth floor courtroom. They met on the floor below so they couldn’t mix with the witnesses, Lincoln had explained last Thursday, the first actual day of the trial. Cass had stopped short of Ben’s progress across the marble and peeled off to the left to where the elderly gentleman who sat next to her was seated. He and the balding guy had formed a friendship born of being the only smokers on the jury and were quietly chatting about an earlier trial they had been dismissed from. “You’re lucky to escape that,” Cass shuddered as they walked up the steps. “A murder trial?” The elderly gentlemen shrugged. “Death is a part of life.” “Why were you dismissed?” she wanted to know. “The prosecution didn’t want me because I said I was against the death penalty.” The elderly gentleman gave her a wide smile. “They didn’t want me because I’m a security guard,” the other man added. “Can we talk about that case since we didn’t end up on the jury?” “I don’t think we should,” the elderly gentleman said. “The trial is going on right now and someone could hear us.” Cass wondered if he would be voted foreman when they went to deliberate. He seemed like the voice of reason. When they reached the fourth floor, the bailiff ushered them back to the jury room. “One moment,” she said and lumbered out. Cass glanced at Ben. He was ignoring everyone again, with his ear attached to his cell phone, though he wasn’t speaking. A bit single-minded, was Ben. Of course, she

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mused, it would be fabulous if a man she was interested in paid single-minded attention to her. However, she’d never date a friend of Doug’s. The door to the jury room opened. Cass couldn’t see it from her position at the table, but D’Shelle Lincoln’s voice rung out, propelled by her oversize body. “We’re ready.” Once in the hall, they had to line up by their position in the jury box. Cass went first. The bailiff poked her head in and must have waited for the judge’s nod before saying, “All rise.” Cass led her fellow jurors in, feeling exposed. The armed policemen in the room made her uncomfortable, too close to violence. They were present in case the defendant became unruly and in order to take him back to jail at the end of the day—a continual unpleasant reminder of why they were there. She waited for the judge to nod before she sat, noting Detective Ron Placer in the jury box. He still wore his stained clothes. In contrast to Ben, Cass bet an upstanding police officer like he was wouldn’t have been friendly with Doug in college. Doug had already been having problems with drugs back then, cocaine and marijuana. That was why he and Georgia had moved to Yakima after the marriage, to escape his old friends and temptations. Georgia had been so sure there was a good guy underneath, not someone who would spend every penny she had on drugs and then— From her table, Mary Diamond spoke. “Before lunch, we were speaking about November second and your role in the incident on Gunderson Boulevard.” Placer nodded, then, with a glance at the court reporter, said, “Yes.” “Any idea who reported the kidnapping?” Restless, the prosecutor moved to the lectern only a couple of feet from Cass. “My understanding at first was Joey Quinn reported it.” “Did you speak to him?” The prosecutor rested her arms on the lectern. “Yes, at the precinct house in Tukwila.” “What were your observations?” “He was much the worse for wear. He was bruised about the face and had blood on his shirt.” Placer circled a finger around his eyes and cheeks to indicate where the bruising was. “Anything else?” The detective bent to his notes. “Uh, yes. His demeanor was very calm, despite the situation. I wondered if he might be on something, but he was well-spoken.” “Was he alone?” “No. A Paris Cutler had been with him but I didn’t speak to her.” He glanced at the prosecutor. “I was told later she was the kidnapping victim’s mother.” “Did you ever speak with her?” “No, but I did speak with Brenda Cutler.”

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“And when did this occur?” “After I took her into custody on Gunderson Boulevard.” Oscar Nesell scribbled on his notepad and showed it to the defense attorney. “And why did you do take her into custody?” Mary Diamond asked. “She had cocaine in her possession,” Placer said. Oscar Nesell smiled. Creepy, Cass thought. The prosecutor raised her eyebrows. “What was her explanation?” Placer consulted his notes. “She said Oscar Nesell had placed it into her pocket. She said he called it insurance.” Interesting, Cass thought. Brenda herself hadn’t yet mentioned this. Diamond glanced at the jury, meeting their eyes for a moment. “Explain the scene at Gunderson Boulevard, if you don’t mind.” “We were warned one of the suspects was armed, though Joey Quinn told us he didn’t believe the weapon was loaded, so we proceeded in unmarked vehicles to Gunderson Boulevard. I parked some distance away and came to the scene on foot with another officer.” Cass wrote this on her pad. She tried to keep track of all the players in her notes to make sure everyone’s story agreed. If she was a betting person she’d bet her next paycheck they wouldn’t match. “We strolled by casually and noted the number of suspects. After four or five minutes the male suspects separated from the girl, apparently to speak privately. At that time my partner gave the word and three unmarked vehicles converged on the scene and took control.” “And you secured Brenda Cutler?” “Yes, I took her to the precinct house.” “What was her demeanor at that time?” “Hysterical,” Placer said simply. Mary Diamond nodded. “Thank you, sir. Your witness.” Cass waited expectantly as the defense attorney sat through another of Oscar Nesell’s loud whispers. She wished she knew what he was saying. When she glanced at Juror Number Two, he caught her eye for a brief second and shook his head in disgust. The defense attorney turned away from his client and glanced at his notes before standing. He polished his glasses on his paisley tie. “You said you spoke to Joey Quinn at the station house?” He was breathy, as if he had emphysema or asthma. “Yes,” Placer said. “What were his specific words?”

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“What you would expect,” Placer consulted his notes. “His pregnant girlfriend was in danger, men were holding her for ransom and so forth.” “No one told you it was Paris Cutler who reported the events of that day as a kidnapping, not Joey?” “No sir, not until much later,” Placer said. “Were you told a gun was involved?” “No.” “Would that have been important for you to know?” “Yes.” Placer nodded. “Thank you.” The attorney turned his long face to the judge. “No further questions.” Judge Yu nodded to Placer. “Thank you, Detective.” Cass watched the lean officer of the law make his way out of the courtroom as she wondered what she would do about lunch from now on. Chances were Ben would ask again because she wanted to avoid him. She’d rather eat lunch with Ryan, she thought sourly. “The prosecution recalls Mrs. Brenda Quinn to the stand,” Mary Diamond said. The police guard sitting in the back of the small courtroom opened the door and Brenda walked back in, head down. Oscar Nesell leaned in front of his attorney as if to track the girl with his eyes. Very creepy, Cass thought. Brenda now wore a baby blue sweater over her thin shoulders. Underneath it she wore the same plain white maternity tunic over navy blue pants. About eight months pregnant, she looked ungainly and stork-like with her thin body and large stomach. Cass’ heart went out to the girl. She felt a twinge of jealousy, though, that the girl had managed to maintain her pregnancy despite her trauma where Cass had not. Of course, Cass had no business trying to raise a child alone at nineteen, but she had come into the situation as a result of her own actions and had every intention of making the best of it. As much as she had despised the boyfriend who abandoned her, she had loved the child growing inside her womb and hadn’t wanted the miscarriage. And Georgia, she thought sadly to herself even all these years later, Georgia. She had maintained her pregnancy, but lost the child into foster care in the end. The child would be what, four now? five? Cass forced her attention back onto Brenda. Would she be able to raise her child? In the opening remarks, Mary Diamond had said Brenda left her husband right after their wedding in November and had moved back to Mobile, Alabama. She was living with her father and stepmother, instead of with her husband, because she was too scared to live in Tukwila after what had happened.

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Cass sympathized. She left Yakima after she got out of the hospital, leaving Georgia to fend for herself. Maybe if she had stayed Georgia wouldn’t have lost her baby, wouldn’t be so shiftless now. But Cass hadn’t even been able to care for herself. She listened carefully to Brenda’s testimony. There were no surprises but it brought back memories of her own sense of helplessness and by the time court ended for the day, she had a splitting headache. After the jury filed out of the courtroom, Cass went back into the jury room to grab her jacket. She heard only one set of footsteps following her. “You don’t look so good,” Ben said. Cass whipped around, holding her jacket to her chest. “I didn’t know you were behind me,” she said with a nervous laugh. “What’s wrong?” He studied her face. Seeing him so close, it was hard not to be mesmerized by those amazing blue eyes. She blinked. She never talked about herself, especially about Yakima. Or Doug. “I’ve got a headache,” she temporized. “I’m not used to being confined like this.” Ben nodded sympathetically. “I feel like we’re the sheep and the bailiff is the shepherd. Get thee into the pasture, little lamb.” Cass started to smile, then remembered this was a friend of Doug’s. No friend of his was a friend of hers. “Would you get me a cup of coffee, please?” she asked, just to make him stop staring at her. “Of course.” Ben turned back to the little corridor leading to the exit. A coffee maker half-full of dark sludge sat unplugged on a counter next to a little sink. “Here you go,” he said, handing her a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “I’m afraid it’s lukewarm at best.” “That’s okay. Thanks.” Cass swallowed the painkillers she kept in her purse and washed them down with the bitter brew. “Maybe I’ll run by CoffeeHaus on the way in and pick up some decent beans,” she said since Ben didn’t seem to be leaving. They were the only two left in the room but surely the bailiff would kick them out soon. “We could use them in the coffee maker until this trial is over.” “Better bring a big bag,” Ben joked. “Do you feel better?” Cass nodded, despite the pain behind her eyes. “I’ll manage.” “Good. Because I wanted to ask,” Ben folded his arms across his chest, “what I said to offend you earlier?” “Oh.” Cass smiled weakly. “You didn’t offend me.” Damn, Ben was one of those people who liked to clear the air. “Then what was wrong before? One minute I think we’re getting along great. I was even going to invite you for a drink after court. The next thing I know you’re looking at me like I’ve shot your dog.” Cass sighed. “You said you were a friend of Doug’s.”

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“Yeah, back in college,” he said, his tone edging toward hostile, as if he didn’t care to remember. “He was my brother-in-law. Georgia, my sister, divorced him a long time ago.” “Why does it matter that I knew them? Do you and your sister not speak any more or something?” “Of course we speak,” Cass said. “We’re sisters, we have our ups and downs, but we’re close.” “So what’s the problem?” Cass risked a glance at his eyes. He seemed guileless. How could he not know what had happened? “How long has it been since you spoke to him?” Cass hedged. Ben shrugged. “Years.” “Then how come you remembered my sister?” He grinned boyishly. With dimples like that, no wonder he had the female jurors drooling over him. “Oh c’mon, she was the hottest girl in Spanish 201. Very memorable, your sister.” “You didn’t remember her name,” Cass pointed out. Ben unfolded his arms and stuck his hands in his pockets. He wore jeans, which she thought was disrespectful in a court setting, though far from unusual. “It’s an embarrassing oversight, I admit,” he said, smiling. His dimples showed again. She could see the little boy in him when he smiled like that. Men always seemed the most appealing to her when she could see the boy inside. Their truest selves, perhaps. She liked men who could be a little goofy, playful, not too full of themselves. No one expected you to trust a boy. “You look a lot like your sister, now that I think about it,” he said slyly, teasing. Cass held up her hand. “That’s quite enough flattery, thank you.” “Would it kill you to smile? You’re gorgeous when you smile.” She held back her pleased reaction to his flattery with effort. “It’s been a long day.” “Okay, I get it. But once again, why did me mentioning Georgia and Doug get you so upset?” Cass didn’t like to speak to anyone about what had happened. Doug had gone to prison for it and even though she knew in the back of her mind he was out, she preferred to pretend he had been locked away forever and was a mere footnote in the story of her life. “How close were you?” she asked. Maybe if she could get a sense of their friendship, she could explain without telling the whole truth. She wondered if she’d even be standing here having this conversation if he wasn’t so impossibly attractive to her.

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“We were drinking buddies. I was a party animal back then. You know, first time away from home. We were in a fraternity together. I dropped out my senior year, so I didn’t stay in touch with them.” “Drinking buddies?” Cass’ lips flattened. Doug’s substance abuse had gone far past the party animal stage. If Ben Cameron termed such things “partying” she wanted nothing to do with him, no matter what tingles coursed through her body when he was near. “Sure and a little more,” he said slowly. “All in the past, where it belongs.” “I agree,” Cass said, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Let’s leave Doug in the past where he belongs.” Ben’s eyes went dark. “You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it? Something painful must have happened. I’ve got my ideas but—” “Ideas?” Cass repeated. She was the one crossing her arms across her chest now. Flailing arms flashed into her memory. Her arms, her screams. She bit the images back. They didn’t belong in a casual conversation, were locked away in a place only another victim of sudden violence could understand. “Ideas about what?” “Doug was a player and you were young. His type. I suppose he came on to you or something like that. Not cool when he was married to your sister.” Cass shuddered. She couldn’t discuss her history with Doug, the memories were too painful to explain in a few words. Ben was so wrong, to believe that an action of Doug’s could have been simple, only mildly annoying instead of destructive. Doug had always been best as a man’s man, only associated with casually. He had once been rugged and muscular, a personal trainer in a gym, the perfect life for casual interactions and access to drugs. Cass pushed past Ben, leaving her cup of sludge on the jury table, blinking back the silly tears that had formed in her eyes. Wouldn’t any man be able to live up to her expectations? The thought stopped her. What had made her think of expectations? She didn’t have any, right? What about Ben Cameron made her think that way? Her sense of confusion angered her. “C’mon, Cass,” Ben said behind her. He must have followed her. “Human frailty. It was a long time ago, but it obviously still hurts. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Cass turned back, forcing her tears into anger. “You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I’m not even sure if people like you know the difference between right and wrong.” “Don’t judge me based on a friend I had ten years ago,” he said, his mouth thinning. “I’m a different person now, an adult, not a stupid adolescent.” “It’s all I know about you, Ben,” Cass said, sounding nastier than she had intended. But it was a good idea to scare him off, right? “It’s all I want to know about you.” He opened his mouth, but before he could reply she said, “Goodbye.”

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She trotted down the hall, her speed almost causing a collision with a surprised bailiff. She pushed through the security door and ran across the floor. The elevator door was just closing, but a woman she recognized as a lawyer from the trial in the next courtroom held the door open for her. “Thanks,” she said. The lawyer smiled and dug out a tissue from her pocket. She said thanks again and dabbed at her eyes. What was it about her that attracted such irresponsible men?

***** “I appreciate you staying with Grandma,” Cass said to her sister-in-law Andrea, via cell phone as she stood on the covered breezeway between the courthouse and the garage. She kept an eye out for Ben. If she saw him she would quickly go to her car. “We just finished for the day,” Cass said. “Would you mind staying a little longer? I made a grocery list during one of the breaks and I really ought to pick up a few things.” She paused, half listening to Andrea as she saw Ben striding easily through the door from the courthouse. “I’ve got to go, sorry. The phone doesn’t work well in the garage. I’ll be home in less than an hour.” Ignoring her goodbye Andrea began to tell her about Grandma’s latest eccentricity. “She wants what?” Cass said. Ben was coming closer. Even though her car was on the second level, she ducked into the stairwell to the first floor, hoping he wouldn’t come this way. “Tell her you’re not going to clean the toilet each time she uses it,” she said in a low voice. “That’s ridiculous. She’s not the Queen of England.” Raising her eyes a little, she saw Ben step above her into the top floor of the garage. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Great, anything else? No? I’ll see you soon.” Cass tucked the cell phone back into her pocket and walked up the steps. When she reached the top, she looked back over the railing. What was the weather like? She’d been standing here too absorbed to pay attention. Childlike, Grandma expected a treat when Cass got home and tonight Cass had promised an iced or hot decaf latte from the drive-through stand near the grocery store, depending on the weather. As she checked the sky, a man across the street, smoking a cigarette as he walked toward Washington Street, caught her eye. Her stomach sank into her feet. The man was thin, too thin, dark-haired with a bald spot on the back of his head. Though rangy and broad-shouldered, he hunched a little in his cargo shorts and dirty T-shirt.

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She felt dizzy with despair. What was Doug doing here? She glanced back, for a second thinking to ask Ben for protection. Like he’d be any help. He’d probably slap Doug on the back and ask him how he’d been. She stopped herself. It couldn’t be Doug, could it? Even if it were, Ben wouldn’t recognize him. After more than five years, it was surprising that she’d recognized him herself. She hunched and hurried to her car, trying to believe the lie she told herself.

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Chapter Three Tuesday

Cass sat at the kitchen table, cutting Grandma’s breakfast sausage into small pieces. Grandma said her hands shook too much to cut her own food now. Grandma, seated next to her, suddenly shifted in her chair. Her lined face screwed up in pain. “What’s wrong?” Cass asked, dropping the knife and reaching out to steady the older woman. “My back’s sore.” She rubbed her hand down her side. “I spent too long in the porch swing yesterday.” “The porch swing?” Cass asked, confused. “We haven’t sat on the deck since last summer. You were worried about your allergies with the cottonwood blowing.” “I sat out yesterday afternoon with my visitor,” Grandma said coyly, taking her fork with a hand that looked pretty steady to Cass. She had to admit Grandma had been shaky when she was first getting used to her new nebulizer treatments, but that was two months ago. More and more lately, Cass wondered if Grandma’s mind wasn’t getting a little foggy. Of course, she used to talk all the time about her parents, who were “sound as bells until the day they falled over dead,” at, respectively, ninety-nine and one hundred and one. “It was nice of Andrea to take you out for some sun, Grandma.” Cass took a bite of her bagel. “It weren’t that woman,” Grandma said darkly and ungrammatically. Grandma didn’t like Cass’ brother John or his wife. Of the grandchildren, Georgia was petted, Cass was tolerated and John was despised. But if not her, who had come for a visit? Grandma didn’t have any friends. Cass had given up trying to get her to go to the Community Center. Grandma wanted to sit around and watch soaps all day. Well, why not? She was an adult. She could do what she liked with her time. “Was yesterday the day the foot care woman comes?” Cass asked. Grandma shook her head with a sly smile. “I had me a gentleman caller.” “Oh really.” Cass smiled back. “Did he look like that cute policeman from your favorite soap opera by any chance?” Grandma just loved the actor who played him. “No, Doug isn’t very handsome anymore, is he.” Grandma clucked her dentures, which gleamed oddly in her pale, wrinkled lips. “Such a pity. Such a nice boy. He should stay out of the sun.”

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Cass hoped she had misunderstood. She felt sick at the mere mention of his name and pushed her bagel away from her. It slid too close to the edge of the round table and fell off. Bending over to pick it up, she felt a wave of nausea as she compressed her stomach against her legs. Doug again. It really had been him at the courthouse yesterday. “How can you let that man in here?” she asked, her throat strangled with pain. She stood. “How can you let him in after what he did?” “After what he did?” Grandma asked in a high, offended voice. “All he did was be nice to an old lady. He brought me a present, you know.” “You know what he did to Georgia and me,” Cass said in a low voice. “Don’t you remember?” She felt tears prick her eyes. Was the grandmother who loved her still in there somewhere? “This is my home,” Grandma insisted, her voice rising in counterpoint to Cass. “I’ll do what I like. I’m not dead yet!” “I know, Grandma.” Cass put a placating hand on the old woman’s arm. “I just don’t ever want to see Doug again, okay? He’s a bad man.” Grandma sniffed, clearly upset. But what was Cass going to do about it? Desert this old woman to find a full-time job that paid her a living wage so she could take care of herself for a change, instead of someone else? She was better off here and Grandma was better off if Cass stayed with her. Grandma didn’t have as much money as she thought she did and it was Cass or a cheap nursing home. “I need to go.” Cass stood on legs that felt like a newborn foal’s, shaky and unsure. She hated her thoughts. Grandma needed her. If she couldn’t remember what Doug did to her own flesh and blood she was even more vulnerable than Cass realized. “You haven’t cleared the table or done the dishes yet,” Grandma announced in a singsong voice, folding her hands in her lap. “It will have to wait,” Cass started for the door. “I’ve got to get to the courthouse.” “Don’t you give me that teenager attitude, young lady. You get back here and get busy.” The old lady’s voice rose querulously. One look at her, the paper-thin skin, the puff of snow-white hair, the cloudy blue eyes, made Cass dart back, forgetting her own priorities. Glancing at her watch, she discovered she had four minutes to spare. She took a sponge from the sink and began to wipe crumbs from the table.

***** “The State calls Sergeant Tom Carlyle to the stand,” Mary Diamond said at nine twenty-five that morning. She wore a tan pantsuit and plastic-looking tan shoes with a wedge heel.

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Before court, Cass had sat around the corner from Ben, avoiding him. She had chatted with Ryan about the weather conditions as they related to the cottonwood until D’Shelle Lincoln called to them over the balcony. The twenty minutes spent in the jury room were difficult. Ben kept trying to catch her eye and the other jurors noticed. No one said anything, but she caught the elderly gentleman and the third woman member of the jury, whose short red hair created a frizzy halo around her head, smiling. Cass felt like she was in high school. She wondered who she would eat lunch with today. Maybe she’d just walk across the tracks to the fast food place and eat in the little park area next to the library if the weather stayed nice. She never wanted to speak with Ben again but she could tell her body felt differently. She felt a little spark right under her breastbone when he looked at her. He was gorgeous, no doubt about it, from the top of his handsome head to his hiking bootclad feet. And he was trouble. “Where were you on November second?” Mary Diamond asked. “At the Tukwila precinct house,” Sgt. Carlyle said. Unlike Detective Placer, this officer was in full uniform. A tall, imposing black man, he was running to fat in middle age. “Can you tell us about the events of that day in relation to this case?” “Certainly.” Sgt. Carlyle opened his binder and ran a finger down a page. “I was at the desk when two individuals came in, later determined to be Paris Cutler and Joey Quinn.” “Can you describe their demeanors, please?” “Ms. Cutler’s eyes were red and she was blowing her nose as if she’d been crying. Mr. Quinn was more stoic but seemed brittle, as if he was just barely keeping it together.” “Did you ever find out their ages and relationship?” “Yes.” The sergeant bent his head to his notes. “Mrs. Cutler was thirty-five at the time and Mr. Quinn was twenty-three. Mrs. Cutler is the mother of Mr. Quinn’s fiancée, Brenda. I believe they are married now.” The prosecutor nodded. Cass did the math. Paris Cutler had been awfully young to have a child herself when Brenda was born. “What did they first say to you?” Mary Diamond asked. She stepped over to the lectern and looked at her own binder of notes. “‘My baby’s been kidnapped,’ is the first thing that Mrs. Cutler said,” Sgt. Carlyle announced. “Mr. Quinn said nothing at first.” “What was the story that you came to understand?” He cleared his throat. “A Mr. Oscar Nesell had come into Mr. Quinn’s apartment demanding money. Mr. Quinn didn’t have any money in the apartment, so Mr. Nesell

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took Brenda’s engagement ring and decided to hold her hostage for the rest of it. He wanted five thousand dollars.” “Any idea why?” The officer smiled. “Mr. Quinn was a little vague on that point and my understanding was Mrs. Cutler didn’t know.” “Were you made aware where Mr. Nesell and Brenda were at that time?” “We knew where they would be in one hour. Mr. Quinn was supposed to go to his bank and retrieve the five thousand dollars.” “Did this happen?” “No. Mrs. Cutler came to visit her daughter shortly after Mr. Nesell and Brenda left the apartment. In fact, she had seen them in the parking lot. Mr. Quinn told her what happened and Mrs. Cutler drove him to the police station.” The prosecutor looked up from the notes she had been perusing. “And then you made arrangements to go to the meeting place?” “That’s right. I sent several officers in unmarked cars to Gunderson Boulevard.” “Thank you,” Mary Diamond said from the podium. “The State has no further questions.” The defense attorney stood. He rubbed his chin with long, thin fingers. “Were you told at any time there was a gun involved?” “No.” The lawyer looked at his feet, clad in elderly scuffed Florsheims. “That would have been important to know, wouldn’t it?” “Yes.” The lawyer nodded, but didn’t pursue the question. “You said Joey seemed stoic?” “Yes.” He nodded again. “Did he seem reluctant to tell you his version of the story?” “Objection! He’s leading the witness,” Mary Diamond called out from her seat. “Sustained. Please rephrase,” Judge Yu said from the bench, his chin resting on his hand. “Did Joey’s story ring true to you?” the defense attorney said without missing a beat. “Yes, but we were never clear why Mr. Nesell was demanding money,” the officer admitted. Lunchtime came after another police officer, the one who arrested Oscar Nesell, took the stand. Ben gave Cass a half-hearted smile before putting his ear to his cell phone as they walked out of courtroom, even before they had reached the security door and Ryan, red-eyed and sneezing, decided to camp out in the three-room jury area of the courthouse where they had gone their first day on jury duty.

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Solo fast food it was. The day was sunny and warm, great for a walk even without company. Cass went past parking lots and transportation buildings, trying not to think about where Doug was today. She didn’t want to be afraid of him, to let him take anything else from her, even this beautiful, sunny day. When she reached the library, she could hear Fifties’ music coming from somewhere on the other side of the tracks, a bar maybe. She was always on a straight line from one place to another, never explored. From her youth, she still knew downtown Seattle better than Kent and she had lived here how long now? Five years? She ought to explore more. Cass turned into the park area, to make sure there really was a place to sit before she bought her food. In view of the tracks were stone seats alongside a meandering path. Satisfied, she turned back to the road. Her thoughts drifted to her conversation with her grandmother that morning. She remembered Grandma had mentioned a present that morning. A present from Doug. Now that was hard to believe. What would it have been? A flower torn from their garden? Doug had never given presents. Cass remembered Georgia saying how cute he was when he forgot, how he’d hang his head and rest it on her shoulder until she forgave him. One of Georgia’s many mistakes in relation to Doug. As she came to the edge of the park, Cass could hear a train coming. She couldn’t see it yet, but turned to peer through the trees that partially blocked the view of the tracks to make the park an almost hidden place. You couldn’t even see the library from here, just the tall rock with a flat place for sitting, a one-person width path and skinny bushes. She heard footsteps behind her, several of them. Turning, she saw boys, tall, rangy boys wearing baggy shorts, looking angry or at least hostile. The tallest walked on the path, the others, on the grass slightly behind him. “You got the stuff?” one of them asked, coming close to her. She could feel and smell the teenager’s beery breath on her cheek. “W-what?” she stuttered at him, feeling sweat bead on the back of her neck. “Where is it?” another boy demanded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cass said, taking a step back. “I don’t know any of you.” The third boy, a little older than the rest, the one who had walked on the path, narrowed his eyes as he smiled. He glanced through the trees to the train. She could see red veins in his eyes as he looked to the left and it reminded her of how Doug had looked in Yakima at the end. Then, elbowing the boy closest to him, the oldest boy stepped toward her at a suddenly accelerated pace. Cass backed up another step, but before she could move any further, the boy pressed himself against her and grabbed her purse. She held onto the bag as it slipped through her fingers. The strap cut her palm before breaking away.

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“Run,” the youngest boy yelled. She stood numbly as they loped away. She couldn’t think how to yell for help. There was no one there to help her anyway. She put a hand to her forehead, wiping away sweat. The train passed. She felt heavy, as if her bones had turned to the same concrete as those silly fake rocks in the park. First she moved one foot, then dragged the other behind it. Pretty soon, she remembered how to walk, then run. She followed the curve of the path until there was only a thin strip of grass between her and the street. Cass turned left, heading back toward the courthouse. There were police there, she could report this to someone. She heard her breath heaving after the first block and slowed down, took deep breaths through her nose. Then she saw someone familiar in the street. A tall man. It was hard to see in the sun. Her sunglasses must have fallen off when she ran. She blinked, trying to place him. “Help me, please,” she begged him as she came within earshot. “Can you help me?” “What’s wrong?” the man asked. He was lean, in a T-shirt and jeans. Motorcycle boots. It was Detective Placer, she realized. Why was he still around? Didn’t he belong in Tukwila? This was Kent and he had finished his testimony. “You’re a police officer, right?” What a dumb thing to say. “I mean,” she tried, “I’ve just been robbed.” “What are you talking about?” he said, staring at her from a full foot advantage in height. “My purse was just snatched in the park,” Cass explained, but Detective Placer’s eyes behind his sunglasses were vague, unfocused. Wasn’t he going to help her? She remembered Yakima suddenly, the bored look in the eyes of the male police officer who had responded to the 9-1-1 call she made after Doug beat her. Again, she tried to get her breathing under control. “Maybe you can’t help me directly because I’m a juror, but could you call someone, please? They’re getting away!” “I’m sure the purse snatcher will be long gone,” Detective Placer said, shifting his feet as if he had somewhere else to be. Maybe he did. She wasn’t trying to create a mistrial, but that purse contained her ATM card and driver’s license, not to mention Grandma’s prescriptions! “No, they won’t! They’re on foot!” Cass was practically yelling now. She never lost her temper, not since Yakima, not since Doug. She got her sleep, she did her meditation and nothing ruffled her. At least, not until she had been pulled out of her environment, forced off her schedule and worst of all, found Doug back in her life. “Help me!” she yelled in the unresponsive policeman’s face. She felt like she was going to pass out from sheer frustration. The officer said nothing. She couldn’t see his expression clearly. Wind ruffled her hair as a truck passed only a couple of feet away. It felt desolate here, unprotected, a land of concrete and low buildings. Suddenly, she wondered if Detective Ron Placer

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presented a greater danger to her than those boys had. He was much bigger than them, stronger and even stranger acting. A few feet behind him, she saw another man hold up an arm in a wave, then he was hidden from view by a jeep passing in front of him. Ben. “What’s going on?” Ben asked, as he crossed the wide street from the direction of the Mexican restaurant they had eaten at yesterday. Cass stared at him. Couldn’t he sense the air of crisis? “My purse was just snatched and he won’t help me!” Detective Placer turned to Ben. “It’s long gone,” he said in a bored voice. “Miss, I’ll direct you to the station so you can make out a report.” Ben ignored the officer. “What happened?” He put a strong, comforting hand on her shoulder. Cass gulped air. Ben’s solid presence made her realize she needed to get back under control. She started with her breathing. “Three boys, teenagers. In the park.” Ben squinted into the sunlight behind her. “How long ago?” “Just a couple of minutes. They can’t have gone far. I only had a little cash but I can’t lose the rest of my stuff. I had Grandma’s prescriptions in my purse. Some of her medications are controlled substances and it will be hard to get replacement prescriptions.” Ben held out his hand to her. “C’mon, let’s see if we can figure out where they went.” Cass hung back. How was it that she’d gone on jury duty to mete justice to criminals and ended up being a victim herself? “I don’t know if I want to go back there.” “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Ben looked her over with serious eyes. At that, the detective looked at her too, up and down, but it creeped her out instead of feeling like a medical examination from someone who probably had first-aid training. Cass took another deep breath, then held up her hand. At first she had forgotten the injury, but it had started to burn. “Wow,” Ben said, as blood welled up in her split palm. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sight of the damage. “You need that taken care of.” Cass shook her head. “It’ll wait. Let’s go after them.” “Being a vigilante is never wise,” Placer said, blandly. “You won’t help us,” Cass said, feeling bitter and followed Ben. She heard a loud sigh behind her as the police officer followed. Was he shamed by Ben’s heroics? Had he needed another man to spur him into action? They walked back up the street to go into the park, but when Cass glanced across the tracks before the trees started to block the view, she saw three boys on the other side.

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She pointed across the tracks. “That has to be them!” The lights started blinking and the red and white turnstile arm began to drop. She heard the train’s whistle in the distance. Ben said, “We aren’t going to let them get away. C’mon!” He grabbed her hand. Ducking under the turnstile, they ran across the tracks. Cass turned back when they reached the other side. Detective Placer stood across from her, his face expressionless. After a long moment with no movement, he pointed toward the park and turned in. “I guess he’s going to check the scene of the crime,” she said to Ben. What was wrong with Placer? He didn’t behave at all like she expected a police officer did. “I can’t believe he didn’t want to help you,” Ben said as they walked down the street where Cass had seen the young purse-snatchers. Cass scanned the area for any sign of them. The street was empty though. “I know we can’t talk to the judge or lawyers and we’re supposed to avoid the witnesses. I’m sure that’s what is going on.” “Maybe you’re right.” They reached the building where Cass had seen the teenagers. The lower floor was a bar. “I have to admit he was a little spooky. But then, I don’t spend much time around law enforcement,” Cass admitted. There was no sign of the teenagers now. She stopped and looked around her. Should she have put herself in the situation of being alone with Ben? Ben nodded. “Where exactly did you see them? Do you think they went into the bar?” Cass shook her head no. “They weren’t old enough.” Ben put his hand on her arm. She tried to pull back, but he held on with a firm yet gentle resistance. “They just stole from you and you think they’re going to worry about the legal drinking age? C’mon.” He tugged her into the bar. It was dark inside and nearly empty. The bartender raised her eyes from the glass she was wiping. “Have you seen three teenage boys come in here?” Cass asked her, trying to focus on the immediate problem. She needed to get those prescriptions back. “Nope.” The bartender blew a bubble from her large piece of gum. “Okay then.” Ben pulled Cass out the front door. Now they were on the street above the tracks. “Charming woman,” he commented. “Now what?” Cass squinted against the sun. “We don’t know they came this way.” “I don’t think they’d keep walking alongside the tracks. We could see them easily that way.”

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Cass could see Ben’s logic, but said, “They were meeting someone, I think. They asked me if I had the stuff. I bet they’d have gone back to find whoever they were looking for.” “Sounds like drugs to me.” “Maybe Detective Placer will catch them in the park,” Cass said without much enthusiasm. “Maybe he had the right idea.” Ben shrugged. “We can go back if you want.” “Okay,” Cass said, not sure she wanted to go back to that deserted place with him or anyone else. “If you think it’s a good idea.” Ben glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to get back to court. You need that hand looked at first. Did you get anything to eat?” “No.” Cass realized this explained her continuing dizzy, weak feeling. “There are vending machines in the jury waiting room. Probably there’s a first-aid kit too.” Ben reached for her hand and examined it again. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped away the blood. “See, it’s hardly bleeding anymore. It’s not deep enough to need stitches.” “That’s good.” Cass tried to smile. “I wouldn’t want the trial to lose a juror.” Ben put his arm around her. “I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s a short trial and we have an alternate. If you’d really like to drop out, I’m sure the judge would understand.” He turned her back toward the tracks. His arm around her felt so good. Cass felt warm and relaxed now, oddly protected. He smelled wonderful, clean yet faintly musky, a masculine scent that her body somehow felt was familiar. She could let her guard down for a few minutes. He hadn’t been friends with Doug for years, right? She needed him right now. “I’m not going to drop out,” she said. “If I have some coffee and potato chips I’ll be fine.” Ben chuckled. “There’s my girl.” The train had been a short one and the turnstile was up by the time they got back to the crossing point. Detective Placer was waiting for them on the other side with a familiar object in his hand. “My purse!” Cass ran unsteadily to the police officer. Placer handed it to her, his expression unreadable. “This is yours?” “Yes! Where did you find it?” “On a rock in the park.” “Wow, I wonder what happened? It’s weird that they just left it, isn’t it?” “Better check it carefully and see if anything is missing.” Cass looked up. “Should I really be touching it? I mean, shouldn’t it be dusted for prints or something?”

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“You got it back. The police are too busy to worry about this, don’t you think?” Ben asked, coming next to her. She glanced at him. “I don’t know. Detective Placer? Would those kids even be found?” He shook his head. “Even if we do, you think this is worth a trial? You know what one is like, now.” Cass bit her lip. “I suppose not.” It did cost a lot of money to prosecute, not to mention the time of all the jurors like her. She opened her purse. Her money was missing, but her driver’s license, car keys and credit card were intact. She’d still be able to pay for Grandma’s medicines with her credit card. Then she remembered the prescriptions. She knelt on the cement sidewalk and turned her purse out. No papers fluttered out. Now what? Would the doctor believe her if she said she lost prescriptions for Valium and Vicodin? Now she was convinced those kids were involved in drugs somehow. “They got Grandma’s prescriptions,” she said. “And my lunch money. How am I going to deal with this when I’m in court all day?” “I’m sorry about that.” Placer pulled out his wallet and handed ten dollars to her. “Courtesy of the Tukwila Police Department. At least you can get lunch.” “I can’t take this!” she protested. “Sure you can. You didn’t get anything to eat, did you?” “No, but I’ll pay you back tomorrow, okay? I really appreciate this.” “No problem, don’t trouble yourself.” “Your testimony is done?” Ben asked. “I thought they called people back sometimes.” Placer put his wallet back in his pocket. “We can’t talk about the trial, folks. Take care.” He turned from them, crossing the street. Cass looked at Ben. “He turned out to be pretty nice after all, didn’t he?” But even so, pretty strange. How did he know she’d had exactly ten dollars stolen? “I guess.” Ben reached for her hand, clearly not impressed by Placer’s chivalry. “C’mon, we’ve got a long afternoon ahead of us. What are you going to do about your grandmother?” As soon as his hand made contact, she pulled hers away, wincing with the sudden pain. He had grabbed her wounded hand. “I’m so sorry,” Ben exclaimed, glancing down. Her blood smeared his palm.

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Chapter Four Back in the courtroom, away from Ben’s close, comforting presence, it didn’t take long for Cass to question her purse-snatching adventure. How had Ben gotten there so quickly? He had been in the lobby glued to his cell phone when she last saw him. He couldn’t possibly have had time to get lunch before he saw her with Detective Placer. Had she mentioned during the day that she had prescriptions to get filled that evening? Anyone who liked drugs would love to get their hands on medicines like Grandma’s. Could Ben have hired those kids to steal them? No, that was ridiculous. How could Ben run a business and be addicted to drugs? He obviously worked hard. He had said his partying was all in the past. Maybe he had been telling the truth. And he made her feel so safe when he put his arm around her. Once again, she wondered, what was Placer still doing in Kent? He must be here on more court business. Maybe he had to testify at another trial. Just because a cop acted a little strange didn’t mean he was one of the bad guys. She knew she had a prejudice against the police anyway, after the skeptical way they treated her that horrible day in Yakima. Ignoring the pain from her wounded hand, she refocused on the trial. Mary Diamond was taking Paris Cutler, Brenda’s mother, through her personal story. The two women must have been about the same age, but it had taken something extraordinary to put two such different people into the same room at the same time. Their appearances couldn’t have been more different. Cass wasn’t sure what she had been expecting Brenda’s mother to be like, but it wasn’t this. Paris said her profession was “exotic dancer”. She was dressed in a leopard print dress and matching shoes. Her bleached blonde hair was thin, the strands reaching nearly to her breasts even caught into two ponytails, an odd hairstyle for a woman of thirty-five. Cass should know what a stripper looked like, though it had been years since she had spent time with any. In Yakima she worked as a server in a club, lying about her age. She had worn black trousers and black turtlenecks to distinguish herself from the dancers. She still got hit on. “Where were you on November second?” asked Mary Diamond. “Well, I live in Seattle, so I was there, but then I went to Tukwila to see my daughter.” “How long have you lived in Seattle?” “Oh, honestly, it feels like forever,” Paris laughed, pursing red lips. “Eight years I guess, since I divorced Brenda’s daddy. But she only moved here in October.”

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“And why did she move here?” “Well, she missed her fiancé. Brenda and Joey got engaged on Valentine’s Day last year, right before he moved here. Also she wasn’t getting along with my ex-husband very well.” “Why not?” “He didn’t approve of Joey. Joey had gotten himself involved with some bad shit in Little Rock.” Cass heard Ryan coughing behind her. She looked back. Ryan had her hands covering her mouth, but her eyes were crinkled at the corners as if she was laughing. Paris Cutler didn’t seem like a very good witness. Weren’t you supposed to saint the victims and demonize the defendant? She glanced over to the counsel table. Oscar Nesell had a pen in his hand and was listening carefully, smiling. “I see. So he had turned his life around and Brenda moved here to be with him?” “Well, yes,” Paris nodded eagerly. “A fine young man, I’m sure. He’s my son-inlaw now.” She ruined it with the “I’m sure”, Cass thought. She glanced at Joey, who had been seated in the same bench to the right of Paris every minute of the trial. The courtroom was small, with only three double rows of hard benches. Cass didn’t understand why Joey would want to subject himself to this. A sense of revenge maybe? He even surreptitiously checked out Oscar Nesell from time to time. Almost like he picked at a wound. At least Brenda hadn’t stayed. Cass hadn’t come near Doug’s trial except when she testified. She hadn’t even come for the sentencing when it was all over, but had left for Seattle and Grandma, as soon as she could. “What time did you go to see your daughter?” “About three o’clock, I guess. I don’t get up very early, even when I don’t have to go to work,” Paris said, blinking at Mary Diamond through false lashes. “So at three o’clock you did what? Knocked on their door?” “I rang the doorbell and Joey answered.” “How did he seem to you?” Paris leaned forward. “Well, extremely agitated. He was sort of waving his hands, you know. Like this?” She shook her hands above the ledge of the witness box, then rested her arms there. Cass saw a movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Oscar Nesell whispering to his attorney. The lawyer nodded impatiently. “What was your understanding of what happened?” “Well, that a man came in with a gun and took my baby.” She paused. “My pregnant daughter, you know.” “Then what?”

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“Well, I said, oh my God, you know, my baby girl, stuff like that.” Paris shook her head as she spoke in a higher voice than she had been. “I tell you I was terrified right down to my marrow.” Cass believed her. She remembered her grandmother had fussed over her for months after she arrived in Seattle, almost to the point of smothering her. Paris Cutler was a character, but she seemed sincere and Cass sympathized. “Then what?” “Um, I made Joey go to the police station. I made him drive because I was too scared to concentrate. My baby was missin’!” The elderly gentleman sat back in his chair. Cass propped her feet on the brass bar on her side of the jury box half-wall to take the strain off her back. She wasn’t used to sitting so much. She wondered how Ben was doing. The prosecutor checked her notes. “You went to the police station with him?” “Well, of course!” Paris jerked her hands to her face and spread her fingers wide. She wore rings on seven of her fingers and a diamond glittered on the ring finger of her left hand. “Had Joey contacted them before then?” “It had just happened. When he came to the door he had a towel to his mouth. He showed me the blood. He had to stop it before he could speak, I’m sure.” “Did you gather any further details about what happened that afternoon?” “He said the man—” Mary Diamond cut her off. “You can’t tell me what someone else said, only what you know.” Paris looked confused. “Well, I learned that a man was holding my Brenda for five thousand dollars ransom.” Cass heard a squeal of disgust and saw Oscar Nesell writing furiously on a yellow legal pad. Joey stared straight ahead from his bench behind the prosecutor’s table. The courtroom door in the back opened. Detective Ron Placer entered and sat in the last bench on the defense side. A uniformed officer with a wire running from his ear sat on the other side, guarding the courtroom. “When you spoke to the police, was Joey there?” “No, we were separated right away.” Paris wrinkled her button nose. “They probably didn’t want us to compare stories, but they did take poor Joey so they could get pictures of his face, maybe that was all.” She smiled in Joey’s direction, but he continued to stare ahead. Stoic, as per an earlier description of him. “That’s all I have, Your Honor,” Mary Diamond said. After the usual pointing at papers and whispering by Oscar Nesell, the defense attorney unfolded himself and stood at the side of his table.

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Paris folded her arms on the witness stand’s ledge and remarked, “It sure would be nice to get a cup of coffee here.” No one said anything, but the elderly gentlemen’s lips curved into a smile. Cass had gotten coffee in the jury room before the trial resumed, had craved it, but she felt shaky now, as if she had drunk too much. Probably the shock was wearing off from the pursesnatching. It had been that way after Doug attacked her. At first she could function enough to call 9-1-1, to tell the police what had happened, but then she started to shake and the next thing she knew the bleeding started, the cramps too and she was in the hospital. “Only a few questions, Your Honor.” The defense attorney cleared his throat. “You said a man came into the Quinn residence? Wasn’t he, in fact, invited in to Joey’s house?” “Well, I’m sure I don’t know how he came in. It doesn’t matter if the man had a gun.” The defense attorney looked at the notes in his hand. “Did you ever see this gun?” “No, of course not, but Brenda told me—” “You can’t tell me that,” he said. “Well then don’t ask me stupid questions,” Paris snapped. Cass heard someone start to giggle behind her, then the noise stopped abruptly. “Where would Joey have gotten the five thousand dollars?” “I believe he has savings,” Paris said. “If he didn’t have it he could have come to me, of course. This is my baby we’re talking about here, you know.” “Where would a twenty-three year old get five thousand dollars? I understand he was unemployed.” “Well,” Paris said slowly, “he had money from somewhere or he wouldn’t be able to pay the rent. Brenda is pregnant, so she doesn’t work. I think he has been helping his cousin build a house or something like that.” “I see.” The defense attorney turned to the jury and slowly looked them over. “Has Joey ever been arrested for dealing drugs?” the attorney asked, while he stared at Cass. “Objection!” called Mary Diamond. “Not relevant.” The judge turned from his computer for a moment. “Sustained. Go on.” “No further questions.” “You are dismissed, Ms. Cutler, Thank you,” said the judge. Paris stood and smoothed her skirt. Then she left from the witness box and looked at each one of the jurors before walking out of the courtroom, fluttering a wave at Joey as she walked by him. He didn’t even look at her. The attorneys were both flipping through notes, so Cass took the opportunity to take a look at Joey. Dressed in jeans and an Oxford shirt, clean-shaven, olive-skinned

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with dark hair, he looked even younger than he was. The defense was trying to indicate he was a drug dealer. That didn’t give someone the legal right to beat him or take his fiancée, though. But she despised the people that had given Doug the tools to turn into a monster. “Do you have another witness to call?” Judge Yu asked. Mary Diamond flipped one more page. “No, sir. The State rests.” Just like that? Cass was surprised. She wondered whom the defense attorney would call. Who would stand for Oscar Nesell? “Could I have a sidebar, Your Honor?” the defense attorney asked. The judge motioned him up and leaned over on the side of his bench. Both attorneys walked behind the bailiff and the clerk and hunched over. Cass couldn’t hear a thing. After a few moments, the attorneys went back to their chairs. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s three o’clock now. We’re a little ahead of schedule and our next witness isn’t available, so I’m going to dismiss you for today. Please remember not to speak to anyone about the trial and to keep an open mind. The weather is gorgeous. I hope you find some time to enjoy it.” The bailiff opened the jury door and they all stood. Cass half-smiled at Ben as she walked past him. “Hold on,” he said and paced her until they were out of the security door. He put his hand on her shoulder to stop her as soon as they exited. “How are you feeling?” he asked, searching her eyes. “Are you going to be okay to drive?” “Of course,” Cass said. “It’s going to hurt to put any pressure on that palm. I’ve got a meeting in half an hour, but I could run you home before that.” “I can’t leave my car here.” “Couldn’t anyone drive back with you later to get it? Your sister maybe?” “I’ll be okay, Ben,” she said, flattered by the attention but still unsure of him. “I’ve got to go to the doctor’s office and try to get Grandma’s prescriptions fixed.” “Can’t that wait? You’re awfully pale. I’m worried about you.” Cass swallowed. She wished she could put him in charge for a little while, just until she got home, then crawl into bed for a nap. But she couldn’t. Grandma needed her medication. The doctor only gave her thirty days’ worth at a time and she didn’t have any left. “It can’t wait, Ben. I really appreciate your offer of help. I’m just going to splash some water on my face and then I’ll be fine.” “You’re sure?” Ben’s voice was skeptical. “Yes,” Cass said firmly. “I’m tough.” He smiled. “I know you are, sweetheart. I’m just worried about you.”

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She nodded. Sweetheart? “I’ll be fine. There’s a drive-through latte stand on the way over to the doctor’s office. A grande mocha will cure my woes.” He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re all right, Cass Bellair. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Don’t overdo it.” “I won’t.” She gave him a little wave, then made a beeline for the bathroom. In reality, she felt nauseated, almost dizzy. Pretending to be okay helped only a little. In the bathroom, she splashed cold water over her face and wrists. Ryan came out of a stall behind her. “Wow, are you okay? You’re pale,” she said, putting her arm around Cass. Cass was surprised by the gesture and tried to smile into the mirror at Ryan. “I had my purse snatched at lunch. All I ate was a bag of chips after that, so I’m a little low right now.” “You must be wiped,” Ryan said sympathetically. “You should go home and rest.” Cass nodded. “What about you?” “I’m going to lie out for a couple of hours. Then I said I’d work the five to nine shift.” “I thought this was your day off.” “Yeah, but my sister wants me to go on a cruise to Greece with her, so I need to save some bucks. It’s her new thing, I mean, she just called me last night.” Ryan grimaced. “It had better not be one of the cruises with a bunch of eighty-year-olds.” Cass laughed. “Will you be okay?” “Yes,” Cass said. “Thank you.” Ryan nodded and with a sudden sneeze, ducked back into a stall. Cass dried her hands, grimacing when she saw she’d gotten her bandage damp. Luckily she knew there were gauze pads and tape at home. She’d be fine. She just had to keep it together long enough to talk the doctor into giving her Grandma’s prescriptions again. When she stepped out of the bathroom she saw the defense attorney at the bank of phones right outside. She had thought he seemed a little seedy, with his baggy suit, unpolished shoes and scraggly hair, but she couldn’t believe a lawyer couldn’t afford a cell phone. He must be court-appointed, someone desperate to take any work he could get. She would be too scared of Oscar Nesell to work with him, even if she was desperate for money. He had an attitude, a way he carried himself that made him appear like he could explode at any moment. As Cass walked past the phones toward the stairs she was taken with a sudden sense of foreboding, as if the room had momentarily gone still. She saw lawyers dressed in suits in sharp relief because of the bright afternoon sun coming through the windows. The tapping of women’s high-heeled shoes put her ears on alert. She felt the hard-surfaced marble floor, unforgiving beneath her own feet. The scent of gardenias

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from someone’s bouquet of flowers filled the air. And coffee, too much stale coffee, was ever present on her taste buds. She probably wasn’t supposed to be on the floor anymore since there could still be witnesses around. Shaky, she grasped the rail around the round gap in the floor. She glided her hand across the cool surface while she circled the room and then, when her legs felt too weak to hold her, sat on a bench on the opposite side of the floor from the bathroom. Maybe Ryan would come out of the bathroom and help her. Cass, you are such a ninny. You need to get to the doctor’s office. She was beginning to wish she had accepted Ben’s offer of a ride. She looked around the large space, hoping she would recognize someone, but her fellow jurors were long gone. Barring that, she’d just have to stay here until the shakes went away. She reached into her purse and pulled out a stick of gum, just to give herself something to do. But the gum was gone, along with her lunch money. She wondered what Grandma was doing, all alone in the house, right now. “I thought the notes would be in her purse.” Cass strained forward when she heard the man’s whiny voice from around the corner. She couldn’t see anyone but the word “purse” had caught her ears. “You idiot,” said another man’s voice scathingly, almost too low to make out. “Didn’t you notice? They leave their notepads on their chairs in the jury box. They can’t take them until deliberations begin.” The voices were too indistinct to know if they were familiar. “I was just trying to help,” the first man said slowly, punctuating each word. His voice was higher-pitched, sounded younger. “Don’t,” the other man hissed. “I—” “Hey, are you okay?” Cass whipped her head around and saw Ryan standing there, speaking to her. “Hi,” she said softly, then jumped to her feet, grabbing Ryan’s arm. She walked her quickly in the opposite direction, around the balustrade. Ryan laughed and pulled her arm away. “Why are we going the long way? You were right near the steps.” “Shhh,” Cass silenced her. The two women walked around the circle formed by the railing until they were back by the bathrooms. “Hey, are you gonna be sick or something?” Ryan asked, peering into her face. Cass noticed the defense attorney was gone from the payphone. The floor was practically empty. She pulled Ryan into the stairwell and clattered down the steps with her until they reached the security door out to the main lobby. Where could they go? Cass remembered the little garden area in front of the building, away from the garage where people could lurk by cars and she wouldn’t know they were there. 41

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She pulled Ryan into the bright sun on the path running through the plantings, a quiet area that gave a momentary illusion of being anywhere but at a courthouse. There were two paths meandering through, which offered a moment of peace away from all the humanity in crisis who wandered around the courthouse. Ryan pulled her arm away from Cass and scrunched her face. Her long hair flipped out in an arc at the gesture. “What’s going on with you? You were pale before but now you’re all freaky too.” “I heard some men talking,” Cass said in a low voice, afraid someone else would hear. “So?” Ryan shrugged. “Lots of men around here. Was it about the case?” “They were talking about looking in someone’s purse.” Ryan narrowed her eyes in confusion. “You think they were talking about yours?” Cass spoke slowly. Why couldn’t she explain this right? “It was definitely a juror’s purse they were speaking about.” “Any idea who the men were?” Cass shook her head. “No idea. Even if it were someone connected to the case, I doubt I’d recognize their voices.” “That Nesell guy is creepy enough for some weird thing to be going on,” Ryan said, hunching her shoulders. “Shhh!” Cass hissed. “We can’t talk about the case!” “But some guys can just steal your purse and get away with that? What were they looking for?” “My trial notes apparently.” Ryan’s eyes widened. “Geez. They must be wondering how we’re gonna vote.” “Yeah,” Cass agreed, looking around them to make sure no one was near. “I saw on TV that bugging witnesses is a crime all of its own. So if we knew someone snatched your purse on purpose it would be a big deal.” “I wonder who it was. I mean, I don’t know who’s after me.” Ryan shook her head. “Maybe you’ll recognize the voice in the courtroom. Then we can tell the bailiff. Unless you want to tell her now, just in case.” Cass dug her hands into back of her neck. The shakes were gone now, but her neck was so tight. “I don’t have anything useful to tell anyone. I’d feel like an idiot.” “Write the facts down at least,” Ryan urged. “Documentation is everything.” “It is?” Cass asked, amused by all the information Ryan had at her command. “Sure. You’ve got to be clear in your testimony, right? Those damn lawyers are gonna break a witness right away if they haven’t got their story clear.” “I see what you mean.” Cass smiled. She’d like to see how Ryan behaved in the witness box. She’d probably be even more entertaining than Paris Cutler had been. “I’ll write down what I heard.” 42

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“Good deal.” Ryan tapped her on the arm. “You gonna be okay?” “Yes,” Cass said. “Thank you.” She was really starting to like Ryan. If only the most important thing on her mind could be making a friend.

***** Wednesday Cass had tossed and turned all night, but in the morning she was no closer to figuring out the identity of the men speaking about the purse. As she walked into the courthouse from the parking garage, eyes averted from the attached jail, she remembered the coffee window in the courthouse. She needed caffeine to function. After ordering their biggest mocha in order to get her brain working in time for the next round of testimony, she sat at a free spot on a padded bench on the first floor. She faced the revolving door that was the courthouse’s main entrance from the street and people-watched while she waited for her mocha to cool down to the tepid temperature she preferred. As she sipped her drink, she saw Detective Ron Placer coming in. At first she felt like ducking, not that he would notice her, but the caffeine had woken her up just enough to stand. She ought to be polite; thank him for finding her purse. She took her first step toward him and stopped cold. Right behind him was Joey. Oh, that was no big deal. They were all going to the same place at the same time, right? She stepped closer. Was Ron Placer’s mouth moving? Did Joey have his head cocked, listening? Cass felt a chill run down her back. They stood too close. Had they become friendly after the kidnapping? No, she remembered. Ron Placer had brought Brenda in, not Joey. They shouldn’t even have met. She wondered about clean-cut, college-graduate Joey, whose reason for knowing a thug like Oscar Nesell had yet to be made clear. She took another gulp of her mocha, standing in the center of the hall. Maybe she was turning into a conspiracy theory nut. Perhaps Joey simply wanted to thank Ron Placer for keeping his wife safe. Like she had wanted to do, to offer an expression of gratitude. But no, that didn’t make sense. Placer was doing the talking. He was still doing the talking—she could tell. Placer scanned the hall with his cop’s eyes. Cass averted hers, but no doubt Placer had seen her. And why not, she thought defiantly, she had business here today too. Her watch beeped and she looked down in dismay. Eight fifty-five. She was supposed to be on the third floor now. Rats. No longer caring who saw what, she moved at a fast clip toward the security line.

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Chapter Five On the third floor, Cass replayed the evidence in her head, her thoughts punctuated by Ryan’s sneezes. The prosecution had rested and now it was time for the defense to offer its case. Many questions remained. What was the relationship between Oscar and Joey? Was there a gun mixed up in the drama? Did Joey really owe Oscar money? Was this a case, as the defense attorney had said in his opening statement, about a payoff gone wrong? Had Oscar been beaten too? But always, there was the question of Brenda, the question of the engagement ring found on Oscar’s pinky outside the apartment building on Gunderson Boulevard. “Oh God,” Ryan said, plopping beside her on the bench. “I thought I was gonna die this morning. Cottonwood sucks!” Cass felt empathetic pain even looking at Ryan’s swollen red eyes. “You poor thing,” Cass said, pulling out a package of tissues. “Maybe you should try those herbs.” Ryan sniffed. “Yeah, I think you’re right. My antihistamine sure isn’t working. This is the worst year ever.” “The cottonwood never lasts long,” Cass said in an attempt to encourage her. “Two weeks, tops. It will be over soon.” Ryan looked at her over the tissue held to her nose. “This has been the worst week of my life. I can’t survive another.” Cass patted her shoulder. Ryan was warm to the touch, maybe even a little too hot, as if she had a fever. “You need to take care of yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t worry about saving money for the cruise until the air clears.” “What about you? You looked like you were going to keel over the last time I saw you,” Ryan said. D’Shelle Lincoln peered over the rail above their heads on the fourth floor. “Judge Yu’s jury?” Cass saw Ben wave from the other side of the floor. She waved back as she and Ryan stood. Cass was happy to see he had dressed up this morning. She liked the look of a man in a tie and jacket, even over jeans, as Ben was dressed now. Cass herself had dressed today in a jeans jumper and white T-shirt. D’Shelle’s finger hovered over them, counting the jurors. She gave them the thumbs up and a wave. The jurors stood, ready to climb the stairs toward another day of testimony. She felt the familiar tingles, yet to diminish from familiarity, when Ben came behind her. 44

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“I want to talk to you,” Cass whispered as they walked up. “Ditto,” Ben said in a low voice. “Want to join the jury room bathroom club?” Cass turned, almost losing her balance on the staircase. Ben smoothly put his arm around her waist, steadying her. His eyes were crinkled in the corners with healthy mischief. “Brat,” she said. He smiled. “I was wishing I had your phone number last night, so I could call and see how you were.” “That’s sweet, Ben. I’m okay, really.” More than once now, he had been thoughtful. If only this trait carried more weight than his past did to her. He touched a spot under her left eye. “I’m not sure I believe that. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. Didn’t you sleep well last night?” In front of them, Ryan sneezed. “It could be allergies,” Cass suggested. Ben shook his head with amusement. “You can’t fool me. I haven’t heard you sneezing.” “I guess you’ve got me there. I feel terrible for Ryan, but I’m glad it’s her, not me.” Ben grimaced. “Poor Ryan.” “Yep. She needs to get help.” They walked through the secured door that D’Shelle held open for them and went silently down the hall toward the jury room. Cass reflected how such a short time ago she had fled this hall away from Ben. She still didn’t trust him. That flutter in her chest was just the gentle wings of gratitude beating, right? Nothing more. The last of the group, they were ushered into the jury room. Ben tugged Cass into the bathroom just inside the jury room to the right. As they stepped in, Cass saw the elderly gentlemen grinning at them as he poured the last cup of coffee from the pot into a Styrofoam cup. “This had better be good,” she told him. “We’re making a scene, being in here all by ourselves.” “Live a little,” he teased. “It’s time to shake things up.” “I hope not.” Cass looked around for someplace to sit but the bathroom, while fairly spacious, didn’t offer amenities such as a toilet lid. Ben stuck his hands into his pockets. “What’s going on with you? Did you have to get stitches?” “No, my palm wasn’t cut that badly,” Cass said, lowering her voice, hoping he would speak more quietly too. “I was just a little shaky.” Ben put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay now?” Cass sighed. “Not really. I’m starting to get paranoid.” “How come?”

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“Yesterday, after court, I overheard two men talking about looking through someone’s purse for their jury notes.” Ben whistled. “Kind of suspicious sounding.” Cass nodded. “Exactly.” She held up her hand. “I didn’t recognize their voices at all and I certainly wasn’t going to peer around the corner to see who they were.” “That’s horrible,” Ben said. He took a small notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote. He tore the page from his notebook and handed it to her. Cass looked at it—Ben Cameron, 425-555-1234. “Call me if you get stuck in a tough spot again, okay? You aren’t alone in this.” “I’m not?” He was right, of course. All the jurors were in the same boat she was. Any one of them could have experienced what she did. What was it about her that made her a target? Ben put the notepad away then put an arm around her shoulders. Cass felt the warmth across her and sensed some of the knots in her back dissolving. Maybe, with his past, she couldn’t trust him with her heart, but his solid body made her think she could trust him if she were ever in physical danger again. For just a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes, to droop against him. Ben pulled her closer. The antiseptic smell of the bathroom was overlaid by the scent of Ben’s woodsy cologne. Cass felt drowsy, ready to fall into the most secure sleep she’d had in years. But then she remembered the next link in her chain of paranoia and opened her eyes. “Ben?” “Yes, sweetheart?” He began to circle her upper arm with his thumb in feathery little strokes that caused tingles to run through her nervous system. “I saw Detective Placer and Joey Quinn downstairs this morning. Almost like they were walking together. They might have been talking.” Ben’s thumb stilled. “Are you worried about witness tampering?” “They’re both witnesses. But they’re also men connected with the case.” “I have been wondering why they’re still hanging around,” Ben said thoughtfully. “I haven’t spent enough time in a courtroom to know if it’s normal.” “Do you think I should say anything?” “Placer was acting funny at the park yesterday, but you don’t want to start claiming an officer of the law is jury tampering without proof.” Cass nodded. “I agree.” There was a loud rap on the bathroom door. Ben squeezed her shoulder then released her. “Be careful, Cass. Don’t go anywhere alone, okay?” Cass nodded again, then opened the bathroom door to the smiling face of Ryan. The coffee maker made burping noises on the counter behind in the narrow corridor

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and she could see the balding juror, head raised from the worn Bible he often studied during their breaks, watching the pot intently. “I’m missing the party!” Ryan exclaimed, then lost her smile as she saw Ben’s grim expression. Cass turned up the corners of her mouth. “Just some personal business,” she said, trying to give Ryan a hint of the conversation without letting the other jurors in on her experiences. “Line up, please,” the bailiff said from the hall. Cass glanced back at Ben and seeing his nod of reassurance, went to take her place at the front of the line. A newcomer was standing in the witness box when they filed in. This must be the first witness for the defense. Cass had been wondering what Oscar Nesell’s side would come up with to fight the prosecution. The woman was younger than Cass, maybe Ryan’s age. She had dyed blue hair, neatly corn-rowed. Her black suit was tight, shiny and cheap, what a young woman might think was suitable for a professional occasion. “Please be seated,” Judge Yu said as the last of the jurors filed in. As the rustles and coughs ceased, the defense attorney stood. Cass had never yet caught the man’s name. He was a nonentity. “Please state your name.” “Jill Baker.” “And what is your relationship with the defendant?” “I’m his fiancée.” She smiled shyly as if she thought she had caught a real prize, though surely she must know better by now. Also, she noticed, the girl wasn’t wearing an engagement ring. Had she only been upgraded to fiancée for this occasion? “Do you have a relationship with Joey Quinn or Brenda Cutler Quinn?” Jill’s lip curved down. Now her expression, her narrow eyes, were a match for Nesell. “I know about them and what Joey did. He totaled Oscar’s car and didn’t pay for it!” At last, Cass thought. There was a reason behind the actions. Not a good reason, not one that justified theft and kidnapping, but a reason. “When did this occur?” “Ummm…I guess it was, right before Halloween?” Jill curled a braided strand of startling blue around her thumb, then bit it. “Does October thirtieth sound right to you?” The girl shrugged. “Sure, I guess.” So what, Cass thought. Joey Quinn was supposed to settle on the spot with cash? What kind of people were they?

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“Were you a witness to the car being totaled?” The defense attorney read from his notepad. “No, but I saw the car and the insurance forms.” The defense attorney walked back to his desk and opened a binder. He pulled strips of tape off a photograph, then showed it to the courtroom staff. Then he showed it to Jill. “Is this the car?” “Yep, that was Oscar’s car.” “And where is it today?” “Oscar sold it to a friend who used it for parts. It’s a Mercedes, the parts were worth more than the car at that point.” The attorney, with approval, showed the photo to the jury. The picture showed one side of a late model car. All Cass could see was a dent in the passenger door. Either the real damage was to the other side, which made no sense, or this was a bunch of baloney. While she looked at the photograph, the attorney went back to his binder and unclipped a few sheets of paper. These turned out to be Joey Quinn’s insurance forms. But, Cass thought, anyone could have written that information down; it didn’t make it true. Also, where was the police report if the damage was so severe? She closed her eyes. She wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping an open mind. Cass sighed. The defense wasn’t presenting much of a case, either. Shouldn’t they be trying to prove that Nesell didn’t do the crimes, rather than try to justify them? “Were you with your fiancé on November first?” “No, I was out of town. I missed the whole thing.” “I have nothing further at this time.” Mary Diamond stood, less than fashionable in a butter yellow linen suit, yellowed beige shell and more fake leather wedge-heeled shoes. She must have a pair for every color in the rainbow, Cass thought. “You said you saw the insurance forms, Ms. Baker. Did you see a police report?” “No.” “Is that because there is no police report?” The girl shrugged. Judge Yu leaned forward. “Our court reporter can’t document body language. You need to provide a verbal answer.” “I dunno,” Jill said, flashing a glance at Oscar Nesell. He frowned at her, his dark brows forming one disapproving line above his dark eyes. The prosecutor looked at her notes. “No further questions.” “Any recross?” the judge asked.

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The defense attorney stood and leaned over the counsel table, taking one last look at his notes. “Did your fiancé have a cell phone?” “Yes, I gave it to him for his birthday. I wanted him to remember me every time he saw it.” “Did he have it on November first?” “No, he asked me to take it with me on vacation so I could call him for free.” Good job, Cass thought. Definitely the most convincing evidence so far, precise in the way it fit into the picture the defense was building. “I have nothing further at this time.” Judge Yu nodded in the direction of the witness stand. “You may go.” As Jill left the stand, the judge motioned to the defense. “We request a sidebar.” Judge Yu gestured them up. The attorneys leaned next to the judge’s ear at the corner of his bench. Oscar Nesell took the opportunity to stare, slowly and deliberately, at each of the jurors. He had a slight smile on his face, as if something were funny. Cass glanced back at Ben, who was calmly looking ahead. He’s got my vote for foreman, she thought. Whatever I think of him personally, he isn’t afraid. The mysterious sidebar ended after three minutes clicked by on the clock across the courtroom. The bailiff walked back into the room from places unknown. The judge moved back to the center of his bench. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will take our morning break now due to witness scheduling.” Justice was sure moving quickly in this case. Cass stood with the others and filed out of the jury box. “How long do ya think we’ll be here this time?” the balding smoker grumbled as he sat with his cup of black coffee. “Rats,” Cass said, staring at his cup. She felt Ben’s eyes on her from across the table, but he didn’t say anything. Ryan looked up with question in her eyes from the celebrity-focused magazine she had brought along. “I forgot the good coffee,” Cass explained. “I kept meaning to bring CoffeeHaus so we wouldn’t have to drink that off-brand swill the bailiff makes for us.” Juror Number Four, a sixty-ish heavyset man who had never spoken before, said, “CoffeeHaus isn’t good coffee. Seattle may be considered a coffee city, but it hasn’t got anything on New Orleans.” “You’re from there?” Rob asked. “Sure. Retired after forty years in the chemical business.” He wore a suit a size too small and had unshaven gray whiskers scattered across a florid face. “I’d like to go there some time,” a younger man in a Polartec jacket and jeans said. “See a Saints game, check out the bayou, the alligators.”

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“And Anne Rice’s place,” Ryan interjected. “I love her vampire books.” Cass was just glad the conversation had veered from coffee. If there was a way to start a war in Seattle, it was to argue over which company had the best coffee. “What’s the most interesting place you’ve ever been?” she asked, not targeting anyone in particular with her question. Ryan bit her thumbnail, short and painted black with a white strip through the middle. “Hell, I’ve never been anywhere much, really. I visited a boyfriend’s grandparents’ house in Boise, Idaho last year when his aunt died. That’s about as far as I’ve been from here. Two states.” “I like Mexico the best,” the young black male juror said. “You can do some dope partying down there, right on the other side of the border.” He smiled, reminiscently, exposing a gold incisor. “I went to Texas once,” Cass said. “When I was a kid. My aunt lived in Dallas. I remember it rained really hard and the roads were flooded. I thought it was weird that they couldn’t keep the roads clear.” Ben laughed at her comment. “I worked on a job on I-84 in eastern Oregon, in an area where you could still see the wagon ruts from the Oregon Trail. Now that was extreme weather. Total whiteout conditions. Talk about miserable.” Ryan shuddered. “I’ve never even driven in snow.” The balding smoker spoke up. “I was born in Alaska. It’s not so bad if your car is winterized—snow tires and everything.” Ben glanced at his watch. “That’s fifteen minutes. Think they’ll call us back on time?” “The defense doesn’t seem organized enough for that,” the female juror said. “Shhh,” said the balding smoker, but much more politely than he did a couple of days earlier. “Have they said anything about electing a foreman?” Ryan asked. “It seems like that might be something we could do ahead of time. You know, to cut the boredom?” “It’s premature,” the elderly gentleman advised. The morning break stretched from fifteen minutes to thirty, then from thirty to more than an hour. Cass and Ben exchanged glances from time to time, but mostly he worked on his laptop. He was probably trying to save his company’s contract. Finally, the jurors took their place back in the courtroom. Cass checked out the spectator benches, as she always did. No Joey Quinn, no Ron Placer. What were they up to now? One thing for sure, she wasn’t going anywhere alone at the moment. She’d drag Ryan or even Ben around. She needed to become friendly with that third woman juror as well. What was her name? Heidi, maybe? Holly? Honestly, this trial was the most social exertion she’d managed in years. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Yu said, “I’m sorry for the delay. Unfortunately we’ve had another scheduling conflict. You’re free to go to lunch now. Make sure you 50

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are back on the third floor by one-twenty. Remember to keep an open mind and don’t discuss the case with anyone.” Cass checked her watch. Eleven-forty-five. All in all, not a productive morning. Ben smiled and cocked his head at her as she walked out the jury door, indicating the way out. “Lunch?” Cass asked, knowing he wouldn’t refuse after her solo disaster yesterday. “Sure,” Ben said. “You’re stuck with me.” Cass wondered how to take that remark, then smiled brightly at Ryan, including her in the invitation to be polite. Ryan sighed and followed them out. “Holding up okay?” Ben asked, putting his hand on the girl’s shoulder as they reached the security door. She shrugged. “I didn’t get much sleep last night thanks to my stuffy nose. I need some caffeine if I’m going to survive the afternoon.” “We could go to CoffeeHaus,” Cass suggested. Ryan yawned. “How about we go back to that Mexican place? The walk should wake me up and I’ll just get a soda. I’m sick of coffee. I pour it all day long.” “Sounds good,” Ben said. “I like Mexican. Of course, it’s hard to get the real thing here. I did a job in Arizona. Great Mexican food down there.” “I’ll bet,” Ryan said, her eyes brightening a bit. “I want to do some traveling soon, when I save the money. What about you, Cass? Do you like to travel?” Cass smiled. “I can’t right now, but I’ve always wanted to take the summer off and just drive around the country.” “Me too!” Ryan exclaimed, as they reached the bottom of the steps and walked through the doors into the middle of the first floor. “We should go together!” “It might be a couple of years,” Cass cautioned. “But we can stay in touch.” “Yeah,” Ryan said, her smile fading. “You don’t want to leave your grandmother alone.” “I’m rich,” Ben said, with a sly smile. “I’ll take you both. We’ll hire a senior sitter for Grandma.” “Oohhh, Mack Daddy,” Ryan crooned in her husky voice, hooking her hand around his arm as they stepped into the revolving door. “You’ll take good care of us, huh?” Ben smiled and held out his other arm to Cass. She stepped forward and hesitantly linked her hand under his forearm. His skin was warm and lightly sprinkled with curly dark hair. “What do you say, Cass?” Ben winked. She nodded. “You’d take good care of us. I’m not sure if the reverse would be true.” “I know you two are a couple of dreamers,” he said. “But I would insist you girls take a couple of cooking classes before we go.”

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Ryan made a strangled noise and pulled away, slapping Ben with her purse. Cass walked behind them, laughing, as Ben chased Ryan up to the streetlight. She hit the button for the crosswalk. “Are we supposed to be having fun on jury duty?” she asked, as Ryan darted around her. Ben stopped and grimaced. “Probably not this much. Anyone could see us making a scene.” He looked behind them to the white courthouse, which dwarfed the surrounding buildings. “In fact, isn’t that a defense attorney behind us?” “They can’t boot all of us off the jury,” Ryan reminded them, with a sneeze. She continued in a slightly muffled voice. “They need us. There’s only one alternate and the defense has barely begun.” It was sunny and warm. Cass felt no sense of unease until they reached the tracks. Then, like tearing the scab off a wound, she looked across the street to the park where she had been mugged the day before. She shuddered involuntarily and wondered how she could be having a good time when mysterious conspiracies were swirling around her. She felt an arm around her shoulders and turned to see Ben, a concerned expression on his face, studying her. Ben remembered thinking Cass was frail when they first met. He hadn’t thought it again until now. He followed the path of her eyes across then street and saw the park. He let Ryan move ahead of them. “Still worried about Joey Quinn and that cop?” Cass nodded. “I do think something is going on. What’s at stake in this trial?” Ben considered. He was a bit of a crime buff. “Surprisingly little I think. Three years incarceration? Less than five, for sure.” “Even with a gun involved?” Cass asked quietly. Ben glanced around. He didn’t mind discussing the case, but only as long as no one could hear. Explaining to someone always helped him think and wasn’t that only to the processes’ benefit? “I don’t think they’re going to be able to prove the gun.” “Why not?” “Because only Paris has spoken about it and she wasn’t there.” Cass grimaced, wrinkling her perfect skin. Ben felt the urge to smooth it out, to run his fingers across her silky cheek, across her moist lips. He wondered how those lips would feel against his. “What a mess,” she said. He smiled a little, agreeing. “We’d better catch up with Ryan.” “Right. She’s waving at us.” Ben was happy to hear the note of regret in her voice, as if she liked being along with him. Maybe she was thawing.

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He knew if he kept analyzing her he’d never make a move, so he grabbed Cass’ hand and tugged her forward. A delighted grin crossed her elfin face. They’d definitely be having that date soon. Just as they reached the train tracks, a shadow crossed his eye. He squinted across the street to see a tall, thin man walk out of the park and head toward the train tracks. It wasn’t easy to see in the sun, but he looked like he had a tonsure-type bald spot in the middle of curly black hair. The man seemed familiar, but Ben couldn’t place him. Hands swinging between them, he and Cass followed Ryan into the Mexican restaurant. They ordered and paid at the counter. “This is really pissing me off,” Ryan said as they sat down with their food. Ben smiled to himself. “You didn’t want Mexican again? We could have gone to the fast food place.” “Not that.” Ryan gave him a scathing look. “I’m talking about this stupid trial.” Cass’ gaze swept the room. “It’s what we’re here for.” “But it should be over now. This is a joke. Who cares,” she said, her voice rising, “that Joey Quinn maybe hit Oscar Nesell’s car. It’s irrelevant.” “Don’t you think they’re trying to confuse us on purpose?” Ben pointed out. “Yeah,” Ryan said sarcastically. “How dumb do they think we are?” “Pretty dumb,” Cass said, with a sly smile that hinted fire underneath her fragile exterior. Ben was glad to see the spark. “I’m not dumb,” Ryan said. She continued to speak but Ben was distracted by the sight of the same man he had seen across the street entering the restaurant. The man, pale-skinned and sweaty-looking, wearing a dark blue oxford shirt and jeans that needed washing, appeared to be looking for someone. Who was he? “Look,” Ryan said, tapping his arm. Ben transferred his attention back to the girl. “My cousin was up on assault charges. It doesn’t matter why someone did a crime, that’s just bullshit to get the jury’s sympathy. If they did the crime, no matter why, they’re guilty.” Cass put down her fork. It clanged against the metal-topped table. “Then why do they bother with all this testimony?” Ben wiped his mouth with a napkin. From his seat facing the counter, he saw the man from the park take a soft drink cup and move to the side, within earshot of them. There was plenty of room on the other side of the restaurant, far away from them. “Listen,” he said, “Let’s change the subject.” “No,” Ryan said, “I think it’s important if Cass doesn’t understand. Cass, the jury decides if the defendant is innocent or guilty. The judge only decides the sentence. So if we vote on the verdict based on an emotional response, the defendant goes free, even if he did it.”

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Ben was sure the familiar-looking disheveled man was listening now. He touched Cass’ shoulder and started to rise as Ryan said, in a tense voice, “And you know what, Oscar Nesell did it.” “That does it.” Concerned by Ryan’s lack of discretion, Ben stood up, blocking both girls. The man stared at them. As Ben pushed out of the booth seat he shared with Cass, he heard a gasp. “You!” Cass pointed a shaking finger at the man. “Cassie,” the man smiled, showing a missing incisor and yellowing on the teeth that remained. “I couldn’t wait to see you again.” Cass pushed at Ben. “Go!” she said, her voice rising. Her eyes darkened almost to match the shadows underneath. Ben shared a look with Ryan. What had her so upset? “Don’t panic,” he said to Cass, “we’re leaving.” They quickly left the restaurant. After they exited, Ben took Cass’ arm and turned her to face him. Her skin felt cool under his hand. The restaurant hadn’t been cool enough for the temperature of her skin. Something was very wrong. “What was that all about?” he asked. Her shoulders nearly bracketed her neck as she shook her head. “Didn’t you recognize him? That was Doug!”

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Chapter Six Damn, Ben thought. Talk about a road not taken. His college buddy’s appearance was frankly horrifying. Ben had never been so grateful in his life that, with the help of his grandmother, he had gone the straight and narrow path in the end. “Who’s Doug?” Ryan asked, her tanned forehead wrinkling as she held up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun beating down on them from the restaurant door. “Is he connected to the case somehow?” Ben shook his head. Cass put her hand on his arm, speaking low. “I saw him earlier this week. I don’t know what he’s doing around here.” He could feel her hand shaking and pulled her into his arms for a moment, before gently positioning her toward the courthouse. “So who is he?” Ryan asked. “My ex-brother-in-law.” Cass leaned slightly against Ben as she walked. He had never felt so strong. Ryan’s eyes widened. “I hope your sister looks better than that guy.” Cass smiled weakly, but her lips were pale. “She does, but she went through some rough times.” Ben couldn’t help wondering what the consequences would be from this inopportune meeting and from Ryan’s judgmental outburst in the restaurant. If Doug was so inclined, he could report what he heard, couldn’t he? The State vs. Oscar Nesell would end in a mistrial. But then, Doug probably didn’t have enough brain cells left to figure out what was going on, though he certainly knew how to terrify Cass. Ben didn’t know what past history was between the two. It probably wasn’t the affair he had guessed at a couple of days ago, when Cass had gotten so upset. There was no way she’d had an affair with that guy. But whatever had transpired, Doug appeared to be stalking her now. The next time he saw Doug, he would put a stop to it, but for now he had to get the women back to court. He wasn’t going to let Cass out of his sight until he was certain she would be safe. As they walked through the revolving door into the courthouse, Ben saw Detective Ron Placer to one side talking on his cell phone. The cell phone reminded him to check his messages to see if the bridge bid had been approved. To think, less than an hour before, business had occupied ninety-five percent of his brain. Now it was scarcely a fleeting thought. Cass’ fair hair brushed at Ben’s cheek as she stepped in front of him and put her purse through security. Ben wondered if she was right to be paranoid about the cop. 55

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What was Placer doing in the courthouse all the time? If he was testifying they wouldn’t see him hanging around in the halls, would they? He’d be sitting in that courtroom, or on the bench outside. Was he going to be called back for more testimony in the Nesell case? Ben sensed something untrustworthy about Detective Placer, something dark and mean in his eyes. Not what you want to see in a law enforcement officer. On the other hand, dealing with the scum of the city all day long would make you hard. Ben himself had felt pretty hardened after coming out the other side of drug problems, minor as they had been in comparison to Doug’s. Ben knew he was living proof you could clean up and get on with your life. Next to him, Ryan sneezed. And sneezed. Ryan swore after she got control back. “Why didn’t one of you guys remind me to go to that herb store?” “I’m sorry,” Cass said and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. Cass was quick to take on everyone’s problems, Ben realized. This was an endearing trait, but it must exhaust her to do so much. Ben had never felt the need to take care of people outside his narrow world. A small company, with all the human and business drama played out therein, kept him busy and challenged. Even with Cass as an example of kindness to others, who was he to find Placer lacking? The guy had stopped a kidnapping and retrieved Cass’ purse. He got the job done. Enough said. “Is there anything else you can do, Ryan?” Cass asked. “Have you taken your antihistamine?” The girl did look awful. Her eyes were red-rimmed and threaded with veins, like she’d been on a three-day bender and the skin around her nose was flaking away, leaving it pink and unhappy. Her thin shoulders, covered in a silky black short-sleeved shirt, shuddered under the force of another sneeze. Ryan sneezed. “Yep.” Cass put her arm around Ryan. “Why don’t you go home sick? We’ve got an alternate juror.” “Sure,” Ben agreed. If Ryan left Cass wouldn’t feel obliged to take care of her. “We’re already into the defense part of the trial. It’s more than halfway over. It’s unlikely that we’d lose another juror.” Ryan shook her head and wiped at her nose. “I’ll be okay once I get the pollen from outdoors removed from my system.” She wrinkled her nose. “I may just have to bring lunch tomorrow though and stay in. There’s a fridge in the main jury area, isn’t there?” “I think so,” said Cass. “Why don’t we all bring lunch?” She turned to Ben. “We can picnic in the main jury room. In fact, I’ll bring lunch for all of us.” “Do you cook?” Ben asked, wondering where she would find the time. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

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“It will be fun. I can whip up lunch in half an hour.” Ben thought for a moment. This could fit nicely into his plans to keep an eye on her. “How about this? I’ll buy the groceries and you prepare the food. We can go to the store together after court ends for the day.” Ryan rubbed her nose, a little smile widening her lips. “You don’t have to do that,” Cass said. She laced her fingers together behind her back, like a little kid hoping for a treat. And who was he to deny her? “It’s no problem,” he said. “In fact, I insist. I’d invite Ryan, but I’m sure she wants to get her nose herbs.” “Absolutely,” Ryan exclaimed heartily. “I may get downright suicidal if I don’t find a way to end this misery.” “We could go there first,” Cass said slowly. Ben hoped her reluctance meant she wanted to be with him alone. “Don’t bother,” Ryan said. “I’ll want to go home right afterward, not food shopping.” “It’s agreed then,” Ben said, turning Ryan toward the next floor. He’d have preferred to set a more romantic scene for his first date with Cass, but this would do. At least he’d be able to see her safely off the courthouse property.

***** When everyone had settled back into their places in the courtroom, the defense attorney announced, “We call Arnold Adams to the stand.” Cass couldn’t remember hearing the name before. She wondered who he was, but while the small, skinny man in a navy suit and expensive shoes was sworn in, she worried about Ryan’s health and even more, she worried about the evening to come with Ben. Did they have a real date scheduled? She could be kidding herself here, but he really did seem to like her. She glanced back at him and caught him looking at her. Their eyes met. She blushed, but as she turned away she saw him wink. After the new witness provided his name and address for the court, Cass was surprised to hear the man’s profession—insurance agent. The defense was going all-out to build up the “Joey ruined Oscar’s car” idea. Even so, Ryan was right. No action of Joey’s gave Nesell permission to terrorize Brenda or take her engagement ring. And, was there really a gun involved? Now that she’d like to hear testimony about. “Mr. Adams,” the defense attorney said. “You’re Joey Quinn’s insurance agent?” “Was,” the little man said, moving his head with quick, erratic motions. “Why ‘was’?” “He stopped paying his insurance premiums last year. He bought a new car in the spring and didn’t renew his insurance in the fall when his coverage expired.”

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“So you would say he was uninsured on November first of last year?” the attorney asked. “He wasn’t insured through our office,” Adams said, his head quivering. “Thank you. I’d like to offer this exhibit into evidence. It’s a letter from Mr. Adams’ company notifying Mr. Quinn his insurance coverage had been dropped.” The defense attorney took a piece of paper from his binder and went through the courtroom approval process before handing it to the clerk. This was one of those situations Cass was becoming familiar with, where you wanted to ask more questions, but as a juror, couldn’t. After all, Joey could have changed insurance agents. Mary Diamond declined to cross-examine the witness and he was dismissed. Next, the defense called a medical witness who testified about the effect of blows to the head. Apparently Oscar Nesell had hit his head in the car accident. This must be the temporary insanity defense, Cass decided. He went a little nutty, then hit Joey and took his fiancée’s engagement ring. What a great guy. Mary Diamond blew the doctor’s pompous ramblings away, forcing him to admit he had never met with Nesell and his testimony was purely theoretical. Cass figured if Nesell really had suffered head injuries there would be testimony from doctors who had actually seen him, with charts of heads and pointers to show where the damage was. Certainly, the guy seemed fine now. He whispered almost loud enough to hear, face contorted as he gestured at his attorney. The doctor’s testimony straddled the afternoon break. Late in the afternoon, the defense called Nesell’s mother to the stand. Angie Nesell was a plump, friendly-looking woman, with a bad perm that turned her black hair into a halo of fuzz. She didn’t look at her son as she entered through the back of the courtroom and was sworn in. After the preliminaries were complete, the defense attorney stood and approached Angie. “Did you see your son on the night of November first?” “No, sir,” Angie said. “Was he expected?” “Yes, it was my boyfriend’s daughter’s birthday.” Angie rubbed at her nose. “Did he call you and tell you why he didn’t come?” “No, but he came over the next day. He looked awful.” She didn’t look so good herself. She pulled out a plain white handkerchief and honked into it. “What was your understanding of why he didn’t show up to the party?” Angie put the handkerchief away and rubbed at her nose again. “I apologize. I have terrible allergies. Oscar didn’t come because he’d been in a fender-bender.” “No further questions,” the defense attorney mumbled.

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From the corner of her eye, Cass saw the elderly gentleman shake his head. He must be getting tired of this line of testimony too. Mary Diamond stood from the prosecution table, where Ron Placer had been whispering in her ear, back in the courtroom again. The prosecutor had a smile on her face. “How are you doing today?” Angie smiled tremulously. “This is harder than I expected. I’m not well.” Cass glanced over at Nesell and caught the jerk rolling his eyes. His mother was trying to save his butt and he couldn’t even behave with dignity. Mary Diamond smiled. “You’re doing fine. Did you see your son’s car on the second?” “No, ma’am. He came with a friend, one of the kids he grew up with.” Kids, Cass thought. Give me a break. Nesell was older than she was. “I see.” The prosecutor glanced over at the jury. “Did he appear to have any injuries?” “He seemed upset,” Angie offered. “But no physical injuries you could see?” The prosecutor gestured to her face. “Bruising, for instance?” “No?” Angie said, turning the word into a question and glancing over to her son. She bit her lip. “Was he able to walk normally?” “Ummm,” Angie temporized, glancing at Nesell again. “A limp maybe?” Mary Diamond pursed her lips. “No further questions.” The judge dismissed them after Angie was allowed to go. As Cass walked past the second row of jurors on her way out, Ryan sneezed. Cass smiled at the girl in sympathy. Ben followed Cass down the carpeted hall, Ryan behind them, blowing her nose. Cass’ hand had started itching where it was cut by her purse strap the day before and she wanted nothing more than to crawl in her bed and forget Oscar Nesell, kidnapped girls and purse-snatchings for the night. Well, almost nothing more. Her heart leaped in her chest. She had that date-type activity with Ben, if he still wanted to go. “So what’s the plan?” Ben asked. They stopped in front of the bank of payphones. Ryan sneezed again. “It’s the herb store for me.” “Do you want me to drive you?” Ben asked, tilting his head toward her. “No,” Ryan said, her voice made indistinct by her stuffy nose. “I’ve got my car.” “Right. You drove too, Cass?” “Yes.” He had remembered their plans to go shopping together. Cass’ exhaustion let up a notch, leaving some room for anticipation. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll follow you to the grocery store of your choice?” “Sounds good.” Cass smiled at him, feeling a tug as he smiled back.

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The three walked down the flights of steps, then went across the breezeway, turning right at the holding cells and into the parking garage. They came to Ryan’s car first. Cass gave her a hug and said, “Feel better.” Ryan nodded, a tissue at her nose. “This can’t get much worse. Like you said, cottonwood season only lasts a short time.” Ben patted her on the shoulder and they walked away. Cass heard the metal clang of the door of Ryan’s red sedan shutting behind them. Cass’ car was a few spots away. She pulled out her keys and told him, “I’ll see you there.” Ben nodded and Cass watched to see him get into his own car, actually a shiny, short bed red truck. Before she turned her key in the ignition, she took a deep breath. It had been six years since she’d gone on a date.

***** Joey tossed a packet of smack at the loser and turned away. Placer was waiting for him at a gas station a couple of blocks from here and he couldn’t test the officer’s patience by making him wait. He hated that bent cop cramping his style, ruining his chances for moving up, but Nesell owned Ron Placer. Nesell wasn’t about to let Joey take his territory. His blackmail network and willingness to use violence had won out over Joey’s overeducated cunning. The plan had been so easy. Nesell really had broken his nose. He really had stolen Brenda’s ring. Who said a crook couldn’t do time for stealing from another crook? Persuading Paris, Brenda’s mother, to take him to the police had been child’s play. Nesell had created his own trap. Nesell had been better connected than Joey realized though. He had smuggled a message out of jail to Placer and Placer had come calling to tell him if Nesell did any more time, Joey was dead. He had perjured himself now, erased the gun. Hadn’t denied the confrontation the night before when he and Nesell played chicken on I-405 and his car had scraped Nesell’s. But he couldn’t intimidate Brenda and Paris. Couldn’t bring himself to destroy their lives, force them to lie, see what he really was beyond their innocent eyes. Sure, Brenda knew he sold drugs for a living, but she was just a kid, she didn’t realize the consequences, the kind of people he’d sold his soul to. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the testimony even as it was would get Nesell convicted. More would have to be done. He had to fix the jury. In a stroke of pure luck that told him someone upstairs was still looking out for Joey Quinn, he was made aware that one of his addicts, Doug, knew a juror on the trial. That oh-so-serious, doll-like Cass Bellair, who sat in the box with her primly braided hair 60

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and took careful notes on her little steno pad. For the price of a fix here and there, Doug had followed her around for days now. Joey knew what Doug had done to her a few years back and just seeing him was sure to make the Bellair girl nervous and ready to deal when the time came. What an asshole Doug was. Thank God Joey didn’t have to socialize with these people, only make money off them. A lot of money and he didn’t care how they came up with it. Joey wasn’t sure Cass Bellair had what it took to make the jury listen to her. Also, Doug had overheard one of Cass’ friends saying Nesell was guilty during lunch break. Joey couldn’t fault the logic that Doug had repeated, but Nesell couldn’t go down. The right juror had to be frightened into changing the course of the deliberations. He’d leave it in Placer’s hands. Let Nesell’s hired monkey do Nesell’s dirty work. Joey had shown where a strong link was in the panel. Placer could break it. He walked into the gas station and when no one was looking, slid into the men’s room where Placer was washing his hands. How he wished he had a gun, could just shove it against the man’s skull and take him out. With a silencer no one would even know. He’d be in control then. Placer turned around, smirking. Joey prided himself on his poker face, but who knew what he had revealed to the cop as he looked in the mirror? “What have you got?” the older man drawled. Joey wanted a classier life for himself, for Brenda. The little room stank of urine. Crumpled paper towels littered the muddy tile floor and there were streaks of some disgusting brown substance smeared on the wall by the toilet. He had to get himself out of this mess. “Quinn?” the cop barked. “There ain’t nobody here but you. The trial isn’t going too well for our friend.” “It’s a good case,” Joey said blandly. “Not as good as it could have been,” Placer said. Joey smirked. “Manage to swipe any evidence off that prosecutor you’re bonking?” Placer rolled his eyes. “Amateur.” “What do you get out of this anyway? I really want to know.” “You aren’t important enough to know anything about this organization,” Placer said, dropping his used towel on the floor. Joey felt his nostrils flare in distaste. To draw attention away from himself, he said, “My stalker is on the job but I’m not sure Bellair is the right target.” Placer folded his arms across his chest. “There’s more bad news,” Joey continued. “That young girl in the back row.” “Ryan or Jones?” “Ryan.” “She’s saying publicly that Nesell is guilty.”

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“So?” “She’s got to be dealt with. We don’t want opinions as strong as hers on that jury.” Placer tilted his head. “Why didn’t you just drop the charges when you could?” Joey shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to face the door. He couldn’t control everything, women especially. “I might have persuaded Brenda, but I can’t do much with Paris.” “We could have taken care of her.” “It’s too late now!” Joey said. “Take care of Ryan, if you want some action. She’s on her way to a natural medicine shop in Kent as we speak.” Placer’s eyes narrowed. “By car or on foot?” “Car,” Joey said. “We’ll be down to twelve jurors then. Cass Bellair will have more importance, plus she’s got a hurt hand and a stalker on her ass.” Placer sighed. “How did we get into this fiasco? We should have taken care of you before you got ideas.” “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” Joey snarled. “I control six high schools and most of the City of Kent. I make the organization more money than any other supervisor.” “Right,” Placer sneered. “Mr. Indispensable.” “Nesell made a dumb move,” Joey said. “He of all people should know you can’t control females. Look what his mother said in her testimony.” “What was that all about, anyway?” Joey shrugged. “I put a scratch on his new Mercedes. He got pissed and came after me.” “What an idiot,” Placer muttered. “Nesell’s got some kind of smarts,” Joey told him. “I’ve learned that the hard way. He found you.” “Every man has his demons,” Placer said, twisting his mouth. “I’ll deal with Ryan. You figure out how to deal with Cass Bellair.” “You want misfortune to befall her?” “Actually, no,” Placer said, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his chest pocket and putting one in his mouth. “I want her to hang the jury.” “That will create a mistrial,” Joey said. You can be sure he read up on all the permutations of trial endings. “It’s no better than getting her to drop off the panel.” Placer picked a piece of tobacco off his tongue. “Nesell won’t agree to any pleabargain. There will be another trial and by then, you’ll either have your women under control, or we’ll do it for you.” Joey swallowed. He had other ideas on what Cass Bellair could do for him, but there was no need to share them. “Got it.”

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***** Cass pulled into the grocery store parking lot with Ben close behind. His gorgeous truck put her elderly sedan to shame. “So what are you going to make?” Ben said, climbing out of his truck. He came over to her car and leaned against it, striking a casual pose. Cass was struck anew by the perfection of his toned body. He had rolled up his sleeves to expose strong forearms and the way his jeans molded to every part south of his waist made her want to give him an invitation to far more than lunch. “I wouldn’t put your clothes into contact with my car,” Cass advised, to cover her embarrassment with her staring. “I haven’t washed it like, ever.” Ben grinned at her, then leaned close enough for his breath to warm her ear. “Construction workers are turned on by dirt.” Cass felt herself smiling and tilted her head to his. She squinted in the late afternoon sun as his lips descended. They touched hers with barely a whisper of sensation. Then she felt his tongue gently tasting her lower lip. Her entire body twitched in anticipation. She swallowed and broke the kiss almost as soon as it began, not prepared for the burning heat coursing through her. “What was that for?” “You’re so quiet. I wanted to see your reaction.” Cass tried to smile again. It had been so long since she’d had a chance to figure out what her reaction to a kiss might be. “So?” he asked. “What do you think?” “I can handle it,” Cass said slowly. She smiled then, daringly, put her fingers on his cheeks, then rubbed them on the roughness there and touched her lips to his. “Wow,” Ben muttered, pulling her into his arms. “Parking lot love.” He opened his mouth against hers, deepening the kiss. Running out of air after several seconds, Cass become flustered and pulled away. “What did you say?” she asked, laughing. “Does it matter?” Ben tucked a strand of hair that had come out of her braid behind her ear. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” Cass swallowed. “I’m not sure I’m ready. It’s been a really long time.” “How long?” She couldn’t read his expression. “Six years, more or less.” Ben raised his eyebrows. “Baby, you’re overdue for a good time.” That phrase, somehow, caused Cass’ stomach to sink. “I don’t do good times, Ben. At least, not anymore.” “Wait,” Ben said, grasping her upper arm with his large hand. “I didn’t mean it the way you think.”

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“I know,” Cass sighed. “But that’s how it came out just the same. Anyway,” she took a step toward the store, “I’ve got responsibilities and they don’t end just because I want a few hours to play.” “Do you ever play?” Ben asked, matching his stride to hers. Cass shook her head and kicked at an empty beer can behind an old car. “No.” “That’s too bad. I’ve got a deck of cards I can lend you.” Cass glanced up, saw the crinkles of laughter beside his eyes. “Cute, Cameron. Very cute.” He stopped walking, forcing her to stop walking too. A woman with three kids in tow watched them curiously as she pushed a heavily laden cart with two boxes of cereal sticking out of the top bag. “C’mon, what’s your game?” Ben extended his palms and wriggled his fingers at her. “I challenge you to a match.” Cass grimaced at him. “I think we’ve got a copy of Scrabble in the closet. I’ll challenge you to a game while the brownies are baking.” “Scrabble and brownies. I don’t know which one to get more excited about.” Cass rolled her eyes at him, then set her gaze on the store, marching resolutely forward. “Were you serious?” Ben asked, catching up with her again. “About what?” “The game.” Ben shrugged. “You know, spending an evening together.” “Whatever gave you that idea?” Cass asked with a sly grin she turned away from him. She stepped through the automatic doors and grabbed a cart. “We can just rent a movie if you have nothing better to do.” “No, that’s not what I meant. I’d rather play a game, spend time communicating, instead paying attention to someone else’s story. That’s not much better than jury duty.” Cass pointed her cart toward the produce section. “We don’t sit next to each other in jury duty.” “Yeah, what’s up with that? Why can’t we pick our own seats?” “What do you want from me?” Cass asked, suddenly unable to flirt. She bent her head over the carrot display, not wanting to meet his eyes. “And don’t say a good time or I’ll slap you.” Ben chuckled. “What I want from you is a chance.” “Fast answer,” Cass said, dropping a bunch of carrots into the cart and moving onto the jalapeños. Maybe she’d make fresh salsa, thick and rich like Georgia said they served in Mexico, instead of the mushy watered-down stuff that was substituted for it in most Seattle restaurants. “And you’re not a fast girl?”

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“Not anymore.” “So you’re changing the rules just for me?” “Do you mind?” Ben frowned. “You’d play hard to get with me when you haven’t with others? Yeah, I guess I’d mind that.” “Maybe I’m moving fast. I kissed you in the parking lot,” Cass pointed out. “That was something, I suppose.” “Sure.” When Cass put her hand back on the cart, Ben pulled against it, holding her into place. “Are you planning to go slow because you aren’t sure if you like me, or are you transforming yourself?” Cass was starting to get annoyed. “Not that my life is any of your business, but I might have been a bit well, easy once upon a time, but it was a long time ago. I got hurt.” She closed her eyes, then opened them to see Ben about to speak. “And,” she added, “Any wildness never included my sister’s husband. You got that completely, totally, absolutely wrong. What he did had nothing to do with my actions or situation.” “I realize that, but what was your situation?” Ben asked. “I want to get to know you and this is obviously something that’s been eating at you for quite a while.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” Cass pushed at the cart and Ben let it go. “If it makes you feel any better,” Ben said, “you challenge me.” Rather than annoy you? Cass decided to pretend it was a compliment, though she wasn’t sure it was. “Thanks.” Ben didn’t speak again in the store. Cass knew she’d gone too far, but didn’t have enough experience to know how to fix the problem she had created. “Thanks for paying for the groceries,” she said as they left the store, carrying three bags between them. “Sure,” Ben said, staring straight ahead. “Right, so, I live not too far from here.” Cass popped her trunk and put the bag she carried inside. Ben placed his two bags next to hers. He looked at her for a moment. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want me around.” “I have?” Ben nodded. “I don’t know if it’s me or all men at this point, but you’ve obviously got your life set up so that no one can fit in.” “I went to jury duty,” Cass said. “I was thrilled to meet people, thrilled to go to lunch with everyone, especially you and Ryan. It’s been so much fun. But life, it’s complicated and I haven’t figured out what to do about it.” She wanted to tell him she liked him, but that sounded so high school. Ben caught her hand, put it to his chest. “Lunch isn’t life, Cass. Think about it.” 65

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He dropped her hand and unlocked his truck, moving so quickly she couldn’t think of a way to stop him. Cass stared as he pulled his muscular form in, started the engine and drove out of the parking spot, never looking at her. “Jerk,” she thought. She didn’t know much about men anymore, but she did know he hadn’t given her much of a chance.

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Chapter Seven Cass stopped at CoffeeHaus to pick up a pound of fresh ground beans for the jury room. When she pulled into her driveway at home, she saw Georgia’s blue sports car parked on the street. Her sister, anxious-faced and too thin in her size two jeans and lavender blouse, opened the front door even before Cass could get her keys out. “Where have you been?” Georgia asked, her voice tired and exasperated. Cass set the bags down and gave her sister a hug. “The grocery store. What brings you by?” Georgia pushed her too-long blonde bangs aside with a shaky hand. “I called Grandma this afternoon and she starts talking about Doug and some casual visit they had. As soon as I heard that name I drove over immediately. What is wrong with that woman?” Cass should have called Georgia immediately with this horrible news. She felt terrible that her sister had to hear Doug was back in such an insensitive manner. “I’m so sorry. I should have called you. Grandma seems to have forgotten about Yakima completely and Doug came over when I wasn’t here.” “What’s going on? Has Grandma gone senile?” Georgia’s face crumpled. “Why would she let that-that beast bother us?” Cass couldn’t stand to see her pain. What had happened to Cass was the result of one horrible day, but Georgia had been married to Doug, had suffered the most horrible disillusionment, the shattering of a shared life and ultimately the same loss of her child. It was easier to just worry about Grandma, than mourn all their past pain. “Your guess is as good as mine. Did you get any details of Doug’s visit out of her? She was coy with me.” “Me too. I can’t believe he’s back, or that he’d come here,” Georgia said, picking up one of the bags and carrying it into the kitchen. Cass followed her with the other bags. “It’s scary. I’ve seen him around the courthouse too,” Cass admitted. Georgia turned to her, dropping the bag with a thud. Cass watched in dismay as the bag tilted to the floor and a broken bottle of grape juice began to seep purple fluid on the porous white tile floor. “What does he want with you?” Georgia gasped. “I’m sure it’s just coincidence,” Cass said, grabbing a roll of paper towels from the counter and bending to the floor. Georgia pushed her bangs out of her face. “Has he approached you?”

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Cass bit her lip and picked up the pieces of the juice bottle. “Not exactly.” “What does that mean?” She frowned. “He said hello to me in a restaurant today.” Georgia’s forehead creased. “Were you alone?” “No,” Cass reassured her. “I was with two other jurors. I don’t go anywhere alone since the purse-snatching.” Georgia shook her head. “You’ve had a rough few days. Why didn’t you call me? Maybe I could call his parents and ask them to try to talk to him. They were sort of sympathetic when, you know, when Yakima happened.” “I didn’t want to worry you. We’re not a part of Doug’s life anymore, he just needs to understand that. I doubt he means any real harm.” “You of all people should know we can’t predict his actions. This situation is really bothering me. Maybe you should come stay with me, in my secure building.” Cass put the milk in the refrigerator. “You know I can’t leave Grandma.” “I know you feel a duty to her, but you’ve more than paid her back for giving you a home. What happened was horrible, but you can’t put your life on hold forever. When did you last have a date, even?” Cass sighed. “I almost had one tonight, but I screwed it up.” “My beautiful sister?” Georgia drawled to her in a teasing way that made Cass feel gorgeous, like when they were kids primping together using their mother’s discarded makeup. “How did you manage that?” “I was conflicted from the start. He’s an old friend of Doug’s, of all things and that makes me crazy.” Georgia sat on one of the straight-backed kitchen chairs. “Who on earth are you talking about?” “Ben Cameron.” Georgia repeated the name. “He must not have been a close friend. The name doesn’t sound familiar to me.” Cass finished putting the groceries away and sat next to her sister. “He remembered you, but it took him a while to dig your name from his memory. He’s dark-haired, tall, built, your age. He owns a construction company.” Georgia raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t sound like a loser, at least. Doug had a lot of casual friends. He was different before drugs took over his life, funny and easy to be with. I wouldn’t worry about the connection. But Doug, him I worry about. I suppose Grandma may not be safe from him either, even though from the sounds of it he was nice to her. Could he be clean?” “No,” Cass said quietly. “I’m sure he’s not. He looked like hell.” She pulled a cutting board to her and placed the onions, tomatoes and jalapeños on it. “Salsa?” Georgia asked.

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“Yeah, I like to make labor-intensive food when I have things to think about.” “We both have a lot to think about,” Georgia said, reaching for a knife. She grabbed the first onion. Cass speared a tomato and watched the seeds flow onto the cutting board. “About Doug?” Georgia’s jaw tightened. Cass could see the small muscles clenching. She put her hand on Georgia’s arm. “He’s probably living with his parents and that’s why I saw him in Kent. He’s not going to cause trouble. He was only violent the one time.” Georgia put her hand on Cass’. “He cost you, Cass. One time was far too much. You shouldn’t stay here. I’m sure Grandma mentioned her favorite granddaughter lives with her. He hates me for the divorce, but he blames you for putting him in jail.” Cass forced a smile. “At least he hasn’t tried to contact you.” “He wouldn’t know how. I wish he’d stay away.” Georgia diced the onion, still frowning. “I wonder what he’s up to.” “Do you think he’s trying to get a message to you through Grandma?” “No, he wouldn’t dare.” Georgia said, looking her right in the eyes. “What about your daughter? Maybe he wants to see her now that he’s out of prison?” Georgia cut another onion in half. “I want to get my life together before I try to contact her and one of things I had to do was make sure Doug severed his parental rights.” “You never told me that!” Georgia looked like she was about to cry. “I’d never have been free of Doug otherwise. I only want good things for her, Cassie. Some day I’ll get Abby out of foster care.” She rested her head on Cass’ shoulder. Cass put her arm around her sister. “I understand, really, I do. All you do is work, but it’s not going to be enough forever, you know. It isn’t healthy.” “I wish I could rip everything that happened from both of our minds,” Georgia sniffed. “I’ll never forgive myself for what he did. I knew he’d come back some day.” “It isn’t your fault,” Cass said, resting her head on Georgia’s. “We’ve moved on. He’ll move on eventually too. His parents won’t let him hang around forever.” Georgia rubbed her cheek against Cass’ shoulder. “You’re not free yet, Cass. This isn’t life, waiting on Grandma, making bouquets for other people’s weddings. Take some chances. It won’t all be bad. I’ll set you a much better example too, okay?” Cass smiled, even laughed, just as Georgia had intended. “I’ll try, but I’m not going to work two jobs like you. I couldn’t stand to sit in front of a computer all day.” “Deal. No processing medical claims or making charity calls for you.” Georgia held out her hand and Cass promptly shook it. At the same time they remembered the onions and Cass held her hand away from her face, smiling.

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“This would be a good time to start cutting those jalapeños,” Cass said. “Yes,” Georgia said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Eating salsa is usually easier than making it.”

***** Thursday Cass waited until the last minute before exiting the stairwell into the third floor meeting place for Judge Yu’s jury. She didn’t want to engage in small talk with Ben just yet. She wasn’t sure she’d manage it after their disaster of a shopping trip. Hopefully she’d figure out how to approach him before lunchtime. Ben must have had the same idea, because he wasn’t around either. As soon as Cass realized he wasn’t, perversely, she felt the urge to start looking for him. She checked in the central area under the rotunda as well as around the corners, where there were benches in corridors leading to various courtrooms. Ryan was missing as well. For a moment she thought she had left so late that the jury had already been called, but no, there was Heidi, the elderly gentleman, the balding guy, the Asian man in yet another sweater. She needed to learn their names. So where were Ben and Ryan? Ryan could be sleeping off a cold medication-induced night’s sleep but Ben had no excuse to be late. Cass looked up to see D’Shelle Lincoln’s broad face peering over the railing above her. She had made it barely in time for roll call. “Is everyone here from Judge Yu’s jury?” D’Shelle called. The jurors in the palatial lobby glanced at each other, peered around corners, sorted themselves out from the three jury panels that waited in the space. “Doesn’t look that way,” the balding man called, having finished his inventory first. “We’re still missing a few.” D’Shelle glanced at her watch. “I’ll give them three more minutes.” Her head disappeared. The elderly man gestured Cass over from where she stood against a window looking out over the main entrance to the courthouse. He sat on one of the leathertopped benches a few feet away. “Those two are friends of yours, aren’t they?” he asked. She had to bend to hear. “Acquaintances,” she corrected. He shook her head. “I thought you were sweet on that Ben fellow.” Cass felt herself blush. “He seems like a nice guy.” “Sure does,” he paused. “Maybe you should ask him to dinner. That’s what you young folk do, right? The women ask the men for dates? Can’t understand it myself. It was simpler in my day. Of course women have more money now and they can pay for those dates too.”

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She sighed, knowing she wasn’t one of those women with money for dates. “It’s certainly not simple.” He pointed a finger toward the elevators. “Isn’t that your young man now?” “That’s Ben, but he’s not my young man,” Cass said, her heart giving a little pop of agony and pleasure. “Give it time,” the elderly gentleman said. “Give it time. What’s the other one’s name? I don’t see her yet.” “Ryan.” The elderly gentleman shook his head. “That one’s practically a child. Looks too young to be here.” “She’s twenty-one,” Cass said. “And smart.” He nodded. “That is good. I have been on five juries in my seventy-two years and not all of the jurors had a brain to call their own.” Ben walked up to them, not pausing to speak to anyone else. He wasn’t in jeans today, but white chino pants and a short-sleeved burgundy shirt, both molded to his impressive body. “Morning, Reginald, Cass,” he said, yawning. The elderly gentleman nodded at Ben. Cass was glad to finally know his name. “A pleasure to see you again, sir.” Cass smiled faintly, feeling her cheeks heat. “Ryan’s late too. Is the traffic bad?” Ben shrugged without giving her any special notice. Cass felt crushed and silly. “I had a flat tire this morning. It’s a good thing I was awake early enough to change it.” He checked his watch. “I made it on time though. Has the bailiff called us yet?” “Yes. A few minutes ago,” Cass said. “Why did you have a flat?” “Slow leak?” Reginald asked. “No, I had a small puncture, could have been anything.” Ben moved to the window, propped his hip against the window ledge. “Easily mended,” Reginald said and wiped at his nose with a pressed handkerchief. He smiled at them and put the handkerchief away. “The pollen finally got to me as well.” “I’m sorry. I hope Ryan shows up. We’re just a little past nine o’clock now,” Cass said, glancing at her watch. “She wasn’t late the other days,” Reginald observed. “Perhaps the pollen finally brought her down. She was in a bad way yesterday.” “I hate cottonwood,” Ben said. “I worked on a road crew near a small grove of them about six years ago. We had three men get so sick they had to quit.” “Illness is never sissy,” Reginald observed. “A girl as sick as that Ryan has no business doing anything else. Bless her for trying, but I hope she’s home taking a rest.” The balding man walked up to them. “Where’s your loudmouth friend?” he asked Ben.

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“Now, Art, don’t be sour,” Reginald said. “She’s a nice girl.” “How do you know?” Art scoffed. “Art, I’m Ben,” Ben interrupted, holding out a hand. Cass was happy to see Art shake hands and the tantrum was averted. She had thought he was in his thirties, but revised the estimate upward a bit, even with the smoking. Art had lines of discontent around his mouth and frown marks between the eyes. With the thoroughly receded hairline and double chin even though he wasn’t overweight, he didn’t make an attractive picture. Once again, though, she noticed Reginald got along with everyone. “What’s his name?” Cass asked, pointing to the Asian man, today wearing a black wool cardigan and brown brogans. Reginald smiled. “You’ve got me there, but that young man sitting next to him is Shawn.” He gestured to a man in blue athletic pants. She remembered he was the one who didn’t think the trial would last very long. It certainly felt long. It was already Thursday. D’Shelle waved at them from the balcony. “Why don’t y’all come up now and get comfortable.” Cass couldn’t figure out why the bailiff would think the overly warm, cramped jury room with all too public bathrooms was better than the well-lit, airy lobby they were in, but she dutifully followed the others up the steps. D’Shelle counted them all and with a sigh, let them through the security door and into the jury room. “Just hang out, guys and I’ll find out what’s going on.” Art seated himself with a sigh and pushed away the magazines in front of him to make room for his Bible. One of the men who had been reading Agatha Christie that first day put a pink cardboard box on the table with a flourish. “Donuts anyone?” he asked with a mischievous grin. Fifty or so, he still had a pointed, elven face that must have been adorable in childhood. Art said nothing, but his frown lines softened as he helped himself to a maple bar. “Thank you, sir,” Reginald said, taking a plain cake donut. “I’m afraid I’ve never caught your name.” “Drew.” “Ah.” Reginald held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Drew.” The donuts broke the ice and most of the group was soon chatting, which wore away the time. The conversation stretched to forty-five minutes before D’Shelle reappeared. The donuts were only a memory by then. “I’m sorry for the delay,” D’Shelle said as she came in. “Ms. Ryan isn’t answering at home. We’re guessing she’s caught behind a bad accident on I-405.” There were murmurs of sympathy. “What happened?” Heidi asked.

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“Truck rollover. I think about five cars were hit too.” “Geez,” Shawn said. “I hope she wasn’t in one of the cars. Any fatalities?” “I don’t know,” D’Shelle said. “It only happened an hour ago.” “Does anyone know if she has a cell phone?” Shawn asked. “I doubt it,” Cass said. “I don’t think she has much money.” “Thanks,” D’Shelle nodded. “I’ll keep you informed.” Ten a.m. stretched to eleven a.m., then eleven-thirty a.m. D’Shelle came back and released them for lunch. “Since we’ve got so much time, why don’t we go to the Greek restaurant on Second Avenue?” Drew suggested. Ben glanced at Cass and raised an eyebrow. She thought about that carefully prepared picnic lunch in the main jury room refrigerator and wondered if he remembered it, even though he obviously intended to eat with her. She wished last night had never happened, that she could have a fresh start with him. Then again, she didn’t really want to be alone with Ben. She joined the group. No one was quite sure how to get to the restaurant, so they walked a little farther than intended on the straight streets that still seemed to meander back and forth over train tracks. “I wonder what’s going on over there?” Heidi remarked, transferring her heavy purse onto one shoulder and rubbing the other. “What’s over there?” Reginald asked. “My eyes aren’t so good.” He wheezed a little and Cass wanted to get him out of the thickly pollinated air. “There’s crime scene tape around part of the parking lot,” Ben said, shielding his eyes against the sun. Heidi sneezed and for a second Cass thought Ryan was with them, but no, Heidi was the older, taller, broader female juror. Ryan moved with catlike grace and was tiny, Heidi was more of a lumberer. Cass prayed for a second, hoping Ryan was safe. “Maybe it’s a construction site,” Art suggested. “C’mon, the Greek restaurant is over here.” “No,” Ben shook his head, squinting across the street. “It’s crime scene tape.” Reginald nodded back. “Then crime scene tape it is. I hope nothing too terrible happened.” When they reached the Greek restaurant, Cass looked down the street. “Oh, that’s where we are. The herb store is right next to us.” “I wonder if Ryan made it there last night,” Ben said. Cass turned to him. “Why wouldn’t she have?” He shrugged. “Dunno.” He put his hand on Cass’ shoulder and directed her into the restaurant with the others. Her shoulder tingled rebelliously. Cass went willingly, 73

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but decided she would go into the herb store afterward, just to see if they remembered Ryan. Though surely she was fine, had just overslept or something. What if she’d had an allergic reaction to herbs? Cass would really feel bad then. After eating her gyro quickly, to make sure the others would still be there when she got back, Cass stood up. Ben wiped his mouth with a napkin and followed her out. “What are you doing? Going to check out the crime scene?” he asked. “Want to see if a real one is like TV?” “No, I’m just going to the herb shop.” “Oh,” Ben said, deflated. “I’ll come with you anyway.” The smallish shop smelled earthy and a little medicinal. The center tables held bottles of lotion, soaps and other pampering substances. The rack of alternative medicine-related books and magazines caught her eye, as did the glass herb jars through an arch in the back of the store, but she held to her purpose. She grabbed a bottle of astragalus tincture, which Grandma liked mixed into her morning tea for immune support and went to the cash register. While the clerk, a thin, fortyish woman with prominent cheekbones worked the cash register, Cass asked, “Were you working yesterday around four o’clock?” “Yes,” the woman answered. “Why?” “Do you remember a young woman, twenty-one years old with long dark hair, olive skin? Smells like coffee?” “Bad allergies?” the clerk asked, holding her hand to her nose. Ben grinned. “That’s the one.” “Sure. She loaded up on eyebright, echinacea and some Chinese herbs the owner recommended.” “Was she your only customer at that time?” The clerk rubbed her chin. “There were a few other people here about that time. A woman with asthma, a couple of teenage girls asking about aphrodisiacs.” She rolled her eyes. “I remember a man peeked in at some time around then, but didn’t come in. The shop can be intimidating if you aren’t familiar with natural medicine.” Ben and Cass shared an uneasy look. Cass wasn’t sure why the information would be significant, but it unsettled her. “Do you remember what he looked like?” The clerk considered. “Tall? Thin?” “Anything else?” She shook her head. “No, sorry. I only saw him for an instant.” So he might have been looking for Ryan. It was a jump in logic but Cass was worried about her new friend. If she’d been behind an accident on I-405 she’d have arrived by now unless the accident was colossal. Unfortunately, jurors had no access to the outside world during court hours so the whole Puget Sound area could be shut down and they wouldn’t know about it. “Thanks,” Cass said.

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When they reached the street Ben stopped her. “At least it wasn’t your pursesnatching gang, right?” With Doug around, the purse-snatchers seemed like the least of their problems. “The man could have been anyone. Are you starting to believe my purse-snatching was related to the trial?” “It doesn’t seem likely, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Maybe we should check out the crime scene.” Cass looked at him, feeling the gyro move uneasily in her stomach. Why would the crime scene be related? She didn’t want to even consider that idea, but Cass was glad to know she wasn’t the only paranoid one. They went back into the Greek restaurant. Everyone was finished eating by then and Ben tossed out a twenty to cover his bill along with hers. “You don’t have to pay for me,” Cass protested. “I’m hoping you’ll earn it,” he said. “What?” she asked, confused. “How would I do that?” All kinds of ideas flashed through her mind but the mood had been serious, not flirtatious. He nodded in the direction of her purse. “I want to know something about those products in the store. You must have known what you were looking for since you went right for that little brown bottle. What is that stuff?” “It’s a Chinese herb for immune support.” “Interesting,” Ben said. “My assistant is always taking something or other. I have to say she’s never sick and looks great. Of course she’s twenty-two. Everyone looks great at twenty-two.” Reginald slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a young man yet, son. Don’t despair.” “I turn thirty in two months,” Ben said. “I’m told everything goes by forty. Maybe some of that natural stuff can help me keep up with the young guys.” Cass grinned. “Why do you think what you’ve got is worth saving?” “What cruelty!” Ben clutched at his heart mockingly. Then Cass remembered the crime scene and the bad accident on the freeway and didn’t feel like teasing. At least their mood toward each other had relaxed. “We should go. We don’t have that much time.” “It’s not like we’ve got anything to get back for,” Heidi countered. “If Ryan hasn’t showed we’ll just be sitting there all afternoon while they figure out what to do.” “I don’t understand why they just don’t continue,” Art complained, lighting his latest cigarette. “They’ve still got twelve jurors.” “I don’t know,” Ben said. “But I’m a big crime show buff. Let’s go check out that crime scene tape while we still have a few minutes.” Art grumbled but followed them down the street toward the parking lot.

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The lot belonged to the City of Kent and supplemented the free two-hour parking spots along the streets in the downtown area. A roughly square area of five parking places in each direction was taped off. To one side Cass recognized an older red sedan under a shade tree. Her heart fluttered as she clutched at Ben’s sleeve. “That’s hers, isn’t it?” Ben moved a little closer and she followed him, not ready to let him go. A tow truck was attaching cables to the car. It had Washington plates and Cass saw no reason to think it wasn’t Ryan’s. Ben tugged his sleeve gently away. Regretfully, Cass let him go and watched as he did a circuit around the crime scene tape. “Did she have a radio station sticker on her bumper?” Ben said, completing his circuit. “I don’t know. But the sticker is for an alternative rock station. It’s possible she listened to it.” Reginald sighed. “Did anyone else see her car before this?” Heidi, Art and Shawn shook their heads. “I guess all we can do is tell the bailiff,” Ben said. “Maybe they can check DMV records.” “Did anyone write down the license plate number?” Art asked, surprising Cass by his interest. He glanced at her sheepishly. “I’ve got a neighbor who works at the DMV. Maybe he would help us out. Get this show on the road.” Heidi held up a notepad. “Someone can write on this but I don’t want to go near the car. Bad vibes.” She shivered. Reginald nodded politely at her and taking the pad, handed it to Ben. Ben took it and borrowed a pen from Cass’ checkbook. He moved closer, writing it while the tow driver dropped cables under the car to secure it. “Any idea what happened here?” Ben asked the burly driver. “Some girl got shot,” he said shortly. “Why don’t you stop gawking and get on with your lives?” Ben straightened. “We’re afraid that a friend of ours was involved.” The tow driver looked at him more closely, then got a nasty smile on his face and pointed at his jury badge. “You know jurors aren’t supposed to investigate, don’t you? You could cause a mistrial.” “Whatever happened here, there’s no trial yet,” Ben said patiently. “And anyway, we aren’t on a murder case.” “Oh.” The tow driver carefully spit a stream of brown fluid on the other side of the crime scene tape. “I don’t know what to tell you. Some girl was killed last night. Kids found her body early this morning. Probably the brats were going to steal from the car because the trunk was slightly ajar.”

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“She was in the trunk?” Ben asked. “That’s what I said, bub. With a bullet through her heart.” The man gestured at his right breast, where the name Lenny was emblazoned. “Real professional job, I hear.” Saliva rushed into Cass’ mouth and her head spun with unwelcome images of what might have happened. She knelt on the sidewalk and vomited. How easy would it have been to switch places? Someone might have stolen Ryan’s purse and murdered her. Why on earth would she think the two events were related? But she did. She felt it deep in her agonized stomach. Someone bent over her, put his hand on her shoulder. It was Reginald. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand. It smelled faintly of tobacco but Cass wiped her mouth with it anyway. When she looked up, she realized Art had given it to her. “I’d better wash it before I give it back to you,” she said weakly, unable to take her eyes off the car that looked like Ryan’s. “No problem. Something like this can really turn your stomach,” Art said, lighting another cigarette. “You’re white as paper,” Ben said, rushing to her and putting his arm around her back. “I’m sorry.” She looked at him. “I’m always making a spectacle of myself.” “Don’t be sorry,” Ben said, rubbing her back in soothing strokes. “It’s good to be sensitive.” Shawn sauntered in their direction. “There’s rusty marks that look like bloodstains by the trunk of the car,” he reported. “Leave off, son,” Reginald warned. “We’ve got ladies present.” Cass felt another wave of nausea and bent over slightly, but managed to clear her head. She waved off Art and Reginald, who crowded her. “I’ll be okay,” she said, not wanting to show her fear, to frighten everyone, at least not yet. “It’s really hot out here, maybe we should just go back. We’re not professional investigators.” “I feel sick too,” Heidi said. “And we need to tell the bailiff what we’ve seen.” “Does anyone have a cell phone?” Art asked. “I can call my neighbor about the license plate.” “And 9-1-1,” Cass said. “We should call the police and see if they’ve identified her yet.” Ben handed Art his phone without comment. Art called his wife, who called the neighbor’s wife, who transmitted back her husband’s work number through the same channel. The man was at lunch. By then, they were at the revolving door that led to the court building. Cass knew she would regret losing her lunch by the end of the afternoon, but couldn’t bring herself to think of eating. She was too hot, too worried and not just about Ryan’s possible fate, but for herself and the rest of the jury. 77

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The group huddled on the third floor for D’Shelle to call them. The other jurors in the area avoided them. Cass thought they didn’t want to explore the stunned expressions the entire group had, an expression she was sure she also wore. Heidi passed her a slightly melted candy bar. Cass considered rejecting it, but smiled and took it. The first bite went down well enough and she finished the rest, feeling guilty for being able to eat while Ryan, well, she didn’t want to think about that. At least she could say she didn’t enjoy the candy. Her taste buds appeared to have deserted her and the only chocolate identifier was the creamy texture of the candy. D’Shelle leaned over the balcony. “Judge Yu’s jury?” Ben took a look around, waved at her. “All here.” He grimaced at Cass. “At least as all here as we’re going to get.” Reginald bowed his head. Heidi had a book out, though she didn’t appear to be turning the pages. Even Shawn looked grim. Cass felt a hot prick of tears. What had this small group of people gotten themselves into when they agreed to be on this jury? Civic duty shouldn’t carry such a high price. Now, she wondered about Ben’s flat tire. Was it deliberate? Perhaps it had been intended to be a slow leak that could cause an accident when it went flat on the road? No, she needed to keep herself focused on reality, not fantasy. Reality was bad enough. Ben held out a hand to her. She took his hand, felt the warmth of his body heat and was grateful for his kindness.

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Chapter Eight The twelve jurors climbed the steps to the fourth floor, walked to D’Shelle and waited for her to herd them through the security door, down the long hall and into the jury room. After Cass sat, Ben and Art took the bailiff aside and told her in low tones what they’d seen in downtown Kent. Cass was frantic with worry, terrified of the certainty of Ryan’s fate and what that meant for the rest of the jury. Too jumpy to stay still, she got up and went to the bathroom to wash the chocolate from her fingers, opening the door in time to hear the bailiff say, “Thanks, I’ll look into it.” Ben’s expression was bleak as he turned away from the bailiff. “Are you okay?” he asked, touching Cass’ shoulder. She nodded though the implied yes was a lie. “What do you think they’ll do now?’ He shook his head and scratched at his chin. “It’s going to be a long afternoon.” His eyes looked tired, with dark circles under them Cass hadn’t noticed before. He was right. No one even came and spoke to them for nearly an hour and a half. The room was quiet, except when Heidi asked anyone if they had any aspirin and five jurors ended up taking the pills Drew offered. Cass could feel her own muscles tense and she caught Ben rubbing the back of his neck more than once. At three o’clock, the bailiff came to the door and said they were ready for them in the courtroom. The courtroom was almost empty, Cass noticed as the jurors filed in. With the long delay in the case the spectators had lost interest. After they were seated in the jury box, the judge nodded to them. “I prefer, ladies and gentlemen, that the course of justice run smoothly. However, there are sometimes circumstances we cannot control. Unfortunately, we find ourselves in one of those.” Cass heard Art give a loud sigh, followed by one from the sweater man who was out of work. The judge continued. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that Ryan Ryan was found dead this morning.” Fighting to breathe, Cass glanced back at Ben, but her eyes caught on the empty chair where Ryan should have been seated. Cass had known the truth but still, the gravitational force of the courtroom floor seemed to quadruple as the weight of this terrible confirmation bore her down. What had happened to Ryan? “I’m sure many of you befriended Ms. Ryan and I’m sorry for your pain,” Judge Yu said with a grimace he probably meant as a smile. “Having said this, she was a good citizen who would have wanted the trial to continue. The alternate must now take Ms. Ryan’s place.”

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Cass bit back tears as the quiet man who had been their alternate took Ryan’s place next to Ben. The juror looked at his shoes after taking the seat. Next to him, Cass saw tears in Heidi’s eyes. Oscar Nesell’s movement toward his lawyer caught Cass’ attention. Nesell didn’t speak to the man, only flapped his notepad, but the lawyer stood and loudly cleared his throat. “We’d like to move for a mistrial,” he said in his reedy voice. “I see no basis for a mistrial,” Judge Yu said firmly. “If you can find a precedent, have your brief to me by eight o’clock on Monday morning, but don’t expect anything. Considering the time of the day, we will adjourn until then.” The lawyer sat. Oscar Nesell’s thin lips turned down in a frown. Surely he wouldn’t mind a three-day weekend, Cass thought. It will give him time to have his ugly gray suit cleaned. “I’m sorry to end the day on such a sad note,” the judge said, returning to the jury. “We’ll be recessed until Monday as court is not in session on Fridays. We will resume at nine a.m. Ms. Lincoln?” He motioned to the bailiff. Cass closed her eyes. She had class tonight. She could even go to work tomorrow. How could she possibly go back to her normal life after a day like this? She never should have agreed to be a juror. She should have written that letter to excuse herself. This is what came of giving herself a little vacation. So much for “no surprises”. Her life was all surprises now and not good ones. Judge Yu still wasn’t finished. “Please keep in mind this trial is not over. Keep an open mind and do not discuss this case amongst yourselves. Please tell the bailiff if you are having any difficulties.” What kind of difficulties did he expect? Another death? More flat tires? More purse snatchings? What could be next? Though feeling pretty on edge herself, Cass was afraid Art would have a heart attack when she saw his angry face in the corridor after they left the courtroom. “Why aren’t they sequestering us?” he demanded. “Why aren’t they offering us security? Someone might be after us next.” “You think so?” Shawn asked, grabbing his coat from his chair in the jury room. “Damn, how can they just send us home without telling us what happened to Ryan?” Ben went to the window, which looked out over the exercise yard of the jail. He banged his head gently on the pane of glass. “Maybe they don’t know anything yet.” “I can’t imagine Ryan’s death is because of the trial,” Reginald said, taking the used Styrofoam coffee cups from the table and depositing them in the garbage can. “What a misfortune in any event. That poor child.” “Shit,” Shawn said, saying aloud what Cass was thinking. “We don’t even know if we found her car.”

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Nesell is guilty. Cass felt it in her bones. He must be manipulating these events somehow. She chastised herself immediately. Some open mind she had. But someone was trying to destroy this trial. She clenched her teeth, wondering what would happen next. She glanced over to Ben. Would safety come in numbers? He had been friendly today. Maybe they could start fresh? “Did your neighbor call you back?” Reginald asked Art. Cass looked up. It didn’t matter now. It had been Ryan’s car for sure. Art gestured to Ben. “The message would come to his phone.” Ben started. He turned from the window, pulling his phone from its case on his belt. “Geez, I forgot all about that.” He bent his head to the phone after hitting a few buttons, then listened to the messages. Everyone waited quietly, with mouths tight, eyes shadowed. To Cass, the faces of the others appeared to have aged five years. Ben clicked off his phone after a couple of minutes and put it back on his belt. His expression was bleak. “It was her car,” he said simply. Art sniffed and wiped his eye under his glasses. “We’ve got to put this behind us and get on with our lives.” His voice choked as he said, “I’m going to rip out my kids’ bathroom floor this weekend and lay a new one down. The old one is moldy underneath. Damn boys don’t know where to aim.” The other jurors spoke of their plans as they grabbed their personal belongings and moved toward the door. Everyone’s mood got blacker and blacker during the hot, overcrowded wait before D’Shelle appeared to lead them down the corridor to three days of uneasy freedom.

***** Reginald was the first to exit. He turned to the other jurors and Cass stopped to hear what he had to say. “Why don’t we all get a beer together?” he suggested. “Safety in numbers,” Heidi said. Cass noticed red blotches on her chest, already so covered with freckles they nearly formed one big spot. “Are you all right?” Cass asked. “Those look like hives.” “I get them under stress,” Heidi said. “I’ll be okay, but I don’t really want to be alone right now. That parking garage is kind of spooky.” “I don’t drink anymore,” Philippe said. He was the retiree from New Orleans. “How about coffee?” “Ryan worked at CoffeeHaus,” Cass said. “Then we should go there,” Drew said with a gentle smile. “She’d have liked that.” Cass felt the back of her neck prickle, then Ben’s hand gently touched her back. Though the touch of another person brought comfort in a time like this, she wasn’t sure she wanted to play out their relationship in public. This situation was so artificial. How

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could she be sure anything that happened during the trial was real? Then again, she really didn’t want to be alone right now. Ben was comforting, even though he confused her, unsettled her. “I second the vote for CoffeeHaus,” Ben said. “We ought to have a memorial service,” Cass said, speaking her thoughts aloud. “For Ryan?” Reginald asked. “That’s right,” she said. “We ought to remember her. Ben and I were her last friends to see her alive.” “Just for us?” said Duc, the man who always wore sweaters. “It’s more for us than her,” Heidi pointed out, rubbing at her chest. “If you think it will make you feel better, Cass, I’m up to it.” “This is going to be a long weekend,” Art muttered. “I’m too worried about my family’s safety to think about services.” “Perhaps after the trial,” Reginald suggested. “But fellowship is important right now. There’s a CoffeeHaus nearby.” Though no one did much talking, Cass was grateful for the company as she tried to get her mind wrapped around Ryan’s death and her own fears. Everyone seemed so certain Ryan had died because of the trial. “Didn’t you say Placer was acting funny?” Shawn asked, as he drank an iced coffee. She nodded. “Yeah.” “If we think the cops are involved, we are better off not being sequestered,” Philippe told them. “We may not want to be guarded.” “Hopefully there isn’t as much corruption around here as there is reputed to be in Louisiana,” Jeff, a man a bit younger than Cass, who wore frayed jeans and a sweatshirt, said. “Don’t wander around Kent alone right now,” Ben said. “I mean it. I really need to get over to my office now. Is anyone else ready to go to the parking garage?” Cass nodded. “I need to get home.” No one else was ready to leave yet, so Cass left with Ben. Had it only been three days since she had felt unsafe with him? “How are you feeling?” he asked her as they walked back to the courthouse. She shook her head. “This is all bringing back the feeling of paranoia I had after Yakima.” “Isn’t that where Doug and Georgia lived after they were married?” “Yes.” “I want to hear about that,” Ben told her. She looked into his eyes, so serious. “I need to get home,” she told him. “I can’t talk about it right now.”

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“How about tomorrow?” he suggested. “Why?” “I feel bad about last night. I’d like another chance with you.” “Oh,” Cass said. “Are you sure?” He smiled. “Yes.”

***** Saturday Exhausted from a sleepless night, Ben knocked on Cass’ door about midmorning. She had, after a long hesitation on Thursday, given him her address and said she’d be home that weekend. After two hours on the phone that morning trying to conduct his business, he had tossed his cell phone down in disgust and found himself here. He didn’t know exactly what drove him toward Cass, but he had to see her just the same. When she opened the door, he said, “Let’s go for a walk. I need to get my blood pumping.” From her expression, he knew he had sounded too brusque. “Sorry, but you couldn’t have slept better than I did. I thought we could clear our heads together.” “I am tired,” she said. The delicate skin under her eyes looked blue with exhaustion. “Me too. I’m a control freak these days and life feels out of control right now.” He couldn’t believe he had said that to a woman. It sounded so sissy, but it was real and honest. Cass nodded. “I need to grab some shoes.” He glanced at bare her feet and smiled. “I like the purple toe polish.” It was sexy and he hoped it offered a hint of her sensuality. Cass smiled a little at that. “It’s everyone’s favorite color around here. Georgia insisted it would cheer me up when she stopped by yesterday.” “She must know you needed some primping,” Ben said. “It doesn’t sound like you take much time for yourself. I hope you’ll say hi to her for me.” “She doesn’t remember you,” Cass said almost harshly. He had known his words were a mistake as soon as they had left his mouth. “I’m sorry, Cass, but I can’t erase my past.” “I understand that, but, you know, I’d rather not think about it. Can you stay put while I get my shoes and check on Grandma?” “Of course,” he nodded, feeling troubled. Whatever had happened to her was very bad.

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When she returned, she locked the door behind her. Her expression was serene again, but he could see she was tense from her posture as they walked down the street together. “Do your parents help out with your grandmother?” She grimaced. “They aren’t really in the picture, especially my father. He was never around much and left forever when I was twelve.” “That must have been hard.” “Yes.” She crossed her slim, bare arms over her chest. He noticed she often hid herself with her arms. “The night he left for good was the father-daughter dance night at my school. I was so looking forward too it because I loved to dance and Dad had even grudgingly practiced with me a couple of times, but when I got home from school he wasn’t there. That was the last time he disappointed me, but it was the first in many letdowns from the opposite sex.” Ben was made uneasy by the despair underlying those words. Especially since he had given his own share of letdowns. But he wasn’t ready to walk away from Cass Bellair. Yet. “You’ve had some tough experiences. Are you ever going to tell me what really happened with Doug?” Cass looked at the cement sidewalk. Ben could hear birds in the trees and a car driving too fast down the road, but he only cared about what she would say. “It was really bad,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m listening.” There was a park nearby and they walked through it until they saw a park bench. Ben drew her onto it. The metal bars of the bench felt cool, despite the morning sun. She sighed. He could see the telling would be difficult for her as she began to speak, slowly. “When I was nineteen, I got pregnant. I loved my baby’s father, so when we had a birth control failure I thought it would be okay. But he broke up with me. Georgia was pregnant too and she invited me to live with her and Doug so we could go through our pregnancies together.” “Go on.” He leaned toward her, knowing from the strung-out tone of her voice that this telling held nothing but tragedy. “I moved in. It became obvious pretty quickly that something was wrong with Doug. I never liked him, but I’d never noticed his poor hygiene before. Both Georgia and I had morning sickness but he’d rush into the bathroom in the morning and stay there for ages. I had to use a trash can when I got sick.” Ben winced. “Was he working?” “He was a security guard at a factory, graveyard shift. He’d disappear hours before his shift started. I don’t know when he ever slept.” “What was Georgia doing?” “She was a receptionist at a doctor’s office. She didn’t have to be there until nine so between their schedules they barely saw each other.” “So it went on for a while?”

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“Not really. I was there less than two months.” “What happened?” Cass bent over and leaned forward, rocking. Ben started to reach out a hand to her, but stopped himself. She needed to get the story out. “He got fired a couple of weeks before that night, but he didn’t tell Georgia. He spent all the money they had, the little money I’d been able to pay in rent too, then came home in a frenzy one day, looking for more.” “Were you both there?” “No,” her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just me. He was crazy, ransacked the place.” She stopped, swallowing, her voice almost gone from the stress of telling her story. “He came into my room and his eyes were all funny. When I wouldn’t give him my ATM card he started hitting me.” Her arms were curled tightly into themselves and all he could do was put his hands on her shoulders. That son of a bitch, he thought. No wonder she had been so upset to hear they had once been friends. “You’re a survivor, Cass. You amaze me.” She tilted her gaze to his and he could see the film of tears in her eyes. “My baby didn’t survive.” Ben clenched his teeth to force control of himself as an involuntary shudder ran through him. His chest felt tight with anger and there was nothing he could do but console her. If Doug ever came near them again, he might not survive the encounter. But Cass would be fine; he’d make sure of it. What strength she had to still give so much to others after what she’d been through? He bent his head until his forehead touched hers. “I’m so sorry.” He pushed the hair away from her face as the tears came, tears from both their eyes and as he mourned her lost child with her, he still found time to wonder what Doug Frye was doing mixed up in this mess of a trial.

***** Monday The jury filed back in to the courtroom at ten past nine on Monday morning. After Cass’ revelation, Ben had given up on business and just kept an eye on her for the rest of Saturday, though she had been very quiet. They watched television, even played a few board games, but she had hardly spoken and rarely looked him in the eye. It was like her words had thrown her back into the days after the miscarriage and she needed help, counseling, not to sit here in these too-comfortable juror seats and listen to the words of someone who had terrorized another young pregnant girl. He hadn’t seen her on Sunday. He wished he were sitting closer to Cass. If he had held her hand during the testimony, she might have been comforted.

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Nesell, free of any obvious restraints such as handcuffs, sat in the witness box. Ben thought it would be a long time before he could stand to look at a gray suit again. He would certainly never own one. “Please state your name for the record,” the defense attorney said, then stepped Nesell through his address and family information. Nesell spoke in a friendly, conversational voice, as if he was having a pleasant chat with a new friend. Ben wondered how long it had taken to rehearse that. If he had been in jail, there would had been plenty of time in the last six months to perfect the calm tone and behavior even under such stressful circumstances. Even a crook didn’t want to get caught and tried, probably didn’t expect it. He guessed that Nesell had a big ego, judging from his long-winded speech and formality, as if he wanted to sound educated and persuasive. It backfired, since he kept slipping back into more casual speech. He doubted all defendants could handle testifying, but even with Nesell’s current behavior, Ben would be willing to bet his attitude wouldn’t hold into the crossexamination. At this point, his third week on jury duty, he was starting to feel like an expert. “When did you first meet Joey Quinn?” the attorney asked. “Let me think.” The courtroom was silent for a few moments. What an actor, Ben thought. As if any word of this initial testimony wasn’t rehearsed. “I guess it was in the summer of 2001. Yes, that’s right, at a barbeque. It’s kind of complicated. His aunt is married to my cousin’s stepbrother.” He traced his words in the air as if following a genealogical chart. “Did you stay in touch?” “He was family, you know? So yes. We did exchange a few phone calls, that kind of thing.” “Did you like him?” Nesell shrugged. “He was pleasant enough in small doses, but family is very important to me so it didn’t matter what I thought of him. I thought he had a temper, though.” At the very least then, Quinn and Nesell were cut from the same cloth. You couldn’t have sat in the courtroom with Oscar Nesell for more than half an hour without seeing his bad temper. In contrast, Joey seemed quite passive. Ben glanced over to the spectator benches where Joey sat, motionless, his face an unreadable mask. Ben wondered what the mask hid. “Did you know his fiancée?” asked the attorney. “Ummm, no.” His voice dropped into a lower register. “I met a girlfriend or two of his before Brenda moved here, but not her. She didn’t socialize much in the family, maybe because he liked to embarrass his women in public. I saw him do that with those other girls.”

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What a class act Nesell was. Ben wondered if he was trying to indicate that Joey cheated on Brenda. Plus, it sounded like he was going to somehow blame Joey for what happened to her that day. It would be hard to believe his side of the story. Joey might not be a great guy, but Oscar surely was worse. “What did you see him do?” “Like, everyone would have sat down to dinner and he’d order his date to go get him a beer. You know, a power play, so everyone would see what big man he was.” Ben glanced at Joey again. His face was still nearly expressionless, but he was pretty sure there was a tick at the corner of Joey’s left eye. The attorney glanced at his legal pad. “So what happened on November first?” “My cousin had a poker game at his place, just a few friends. He served sandwiches and beer. I don’t drink but Joey had a few. He is too young to have learned his limits, I’m afraid.” So Joey was a drunk too? Ben saw Reginald cross his arms over his chest. Nesell wasn’t helping his case with the elderly man. He’d be curious to hear Reginald’s take on this during deliberation. He could already guess Cass’ negative reaction. “Then you left the party?” “Yes, my daughter had a cold and I needed to visit her. Her mother called and asked me to stop by as soon as I was free.” “And where was Joey at this time?” “He disappeared at some point. He didn’t look so good. The kid can’t hold his liquor.” Mary Diamond started writing briskly on a legal pad, shaking her head. “Did you see him in the parking lot?” “No, but it was pretty dark. My cousin lives on a single lane gravel road. I pulled out of the driveway toward the main road. There’s a stop sign right after you turn out.” Once again, Nesell painted the picture with his hands. “Are there any streetlights on that road?” “No.” “Go on,” the defense attorney said respectfully. Down the row in the jury box, Shawn coughed. Ben peered over to the right where Cass sat, but as always, he could only see the back of her blonde braids. He hoped she was okay. Even if she was unable to concentrate, it really didn’t matter as long as she could stand to sit there. He knew she would vote guilty on all charges with her past and what they had seen of Nesell. It was obvious the guy didn’t have much of a defense. “I stopped, like I said, then all of a sudden, another car slammed into me from the back and smashed the rear of my car.” “Did you have any warning?” “No, the car didn’t have any lights on.”

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“What kind of car hit you?” “A late model sedan.” “Were you able to determine whose car it was?” “Yes. Joey stepped out of the car after it stopped. He came and rapped at my window. Didn’t even wait for me to get out of the car.” “Did you call the police? Exchange insurance information?” “I was shocked at the event. I gave him my information to give to his agent, but he didn’t exchange with me. I trusted him, since he’s family, to follow up with his agent.” “Did you go back to your cousin’s place and tell them what happened?” “No, I didn’t want to embarrass Joey,” Nesell said. “He’s a young individual and hasn’t learned the rules yet.” What a prince, Ben thought. Rules? “When did you determine he didn’t have insurance?” Nesell considered this, as if the timeline of the events was in doubt. “The next day. He didn’t contact me, as would have been appropriate.” “This was at his apartment?” “Yes. I called him and he invited me to his home.” Ben saw Mary Diamond write more on her pad. The cross-examination would be a kick, he was sure. “What happened at his apartment?” “Ah, he invited me in,” Nesell said slowly. “We talked for a while about various matters, family and such.” “Did you hit him?” Nesell grimaced and ducked his head as if embarrassed. “I was really frustrated with him for lying to me so yes, I did.” “Then what happened?” “He wanted to make things right, so he offered me a diamond ring in exchange for the damage done to my car.” Sure he did, Oscar, old buddy. “Why did he do that?” “He thought it was equal to the value of the damage—five thousand dollars’ worth to be exact.” “So then what happened?” “He told Brenda to go with me to get the ring appraised to make sure it was worth enough to discharge his debt.” Ben glanced at the spectator seats and saw Joey’s face was still expressionless. The double courtroom doors opened and Ron Placer stepped in. He walked to the prosecutor’s table and whispered in Mary Diamond’s ear, then glanced at her notes.

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Did Placer get away with this stuff just because he was a cop, or because Diamond had a crush on him? “Did Brenda agree to go?” “Absolutely,” Nesell’s eyes widened, doe-like. “She wanted to help her boyfriend get out of the jam he was in.” “Then what happened?” “We started to go to the jeweler’s, but Brenda couldn’t remember where it was so we stopped at my friend’s apartment to look at the phone book. And then, when we went back outside, we were arrested.” “Did you go to Joey’s house alone?” “No, I brought a couple of friends. We were going to get pizza after we did our errand.” Ben heard Heidi sigh. Placer glanced over at the jury box and Cass bent her head, probably not wanting to catch the detective’s attention. Ben didn’t blame her. “Was it ever your intent to intimidate Joey or Brenda?” “Gracious, no!” Nesell said. Ben had to hold himself back from snickering. “I didn’t know Brenda existed until Joey introduced her at his apartment,” Nesell continued. “And I wouldn’t harm family. I just got upset and I apologize for that.” “No further questions,” the attorney said and shuffled back to his desk. Ben’s next glance in Joey’s direction verified he didn’t think much of this apology. He sat with his head down, twisting the wedding ring on his left hand. “We’re going to take our lunch break now,” Judge Yu said. “Jurors, you will be escorted to the jury room. We’ll see you back at one-thirty.” The only good news, Ben thought as he waited for the first row to clear out, was the testimony must be over soon. He smiled at Cass as she passed by him. She looked much better than when he had seen her last. Her eyes were clear. She must have spent most of Sunday sleeping. It had done her good. What he wouldn’t give to have her in his arms tonight. She would be the cure to the guilt he felt for not protecting Ryan somehow, to his anger about what Doug had done to Cass, maybe even to the embarrassment he felt for his one-time association with Doug and his college lifestyle. Women could always cry, but men had to work this unfocused distress out somehow. He needed Cass to heal him, even as he paid in kind.

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Chapter Nine “Are you doing okay?” Ben asked Cass, catching her next to the coffee maker, almost out of earshot of the other jurors in the room. “Why?” she asked, gazing at the floor. Ben stared at her, as if he could will her to look at him. Why hadn’t she returned his call on Sunday? He really thought they had made a breakthrough on Saturday, but it had made sense to let her have a quiet day after her sad confession so he hadn’t driven over, as much as he’d wanted to. “I didn’t hear from you on Sunday.” “I needed some time to regroup after we talked and Grandma wasn’t feeling well,” Cass said. Her hand drifted to her shoulder, where her hair, unbraided today, was pushed to one side. She played with the ends. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to understand you, to move us forward a step.” “A step toward what?” she asked, her brow pleating. “When the trial ends, we’ll go our separate ways.” “Why do we have to?” Ben asked. Didn’t she realize how much he wanted to know her? Wasn’t she attracted to him? “I thought we were friends, maybe even more. I care about you.” He stroked her hand until she moved it away from her face, pushed her hair behind her ears. “Please don’t hide from me.” Cass shook her head, looked down. “You’re asking a lot right now. One of my new friends is dead. I’m afraid for my life. Aren’t you?” “No,” Ben said. “If we stay together, we can keep an eye out for each other. And we have professionals watching us too.” “How can you trust the police?” she demanded in a soft voice. “I think Detective Placer is involved in whatever is going on.” “I’m not involved. Can’t you trust me? I think you’re seeing a lot of coincidences and building them into conspiracy under a stressful situation,” Ben said, trying to quell his own nagging doubts. “It’s not rational to assume everything and everyone is connected.” “Why not?” Cass asked. Ben held her hand tightly. “For one thing, I live in Kent. No woman goes into Kaibara Park alone like you did. It’s not so shocking that your purse got snatched, or that unsophisticated kids dropped it after they took the cash. And secondly, lots of homeless people hang out in that park. Doug Frye is from this area and he’s probably homeless.”

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“I doubt Doug is homeless. He has family here. And what about the two men I heard in the courthouse discussing looking for trial notes in someone’s purse? On the fourth floor?” “You didn’t tell me about that.” Ben frowned, but he was glad she had engaged enough emotionally to argue with him. “There’s more,” Cass said. “I’ve seen Placer and Joey Quinn together talking more than once. And Doug was there when Ryan told us she was sure Nesell was guilty. She died that evening.” “That’s coincidence. Again, she was wandering around alone.” “Don’t be so sure it’s coincidence,” Cass said. “I could be right.” “I know this is a rough time,” Ben said. “I understand that Doug is violent and dangerous. Maybe you should get a restraining order. You might feel safer.” “Sometimes they backfire,” Cass said. “And Grandma doesn’t understand. She’d let him into my home even if I got the order. It wouldn’t help.” “If Doug is hanging around here all day, then he isn’t at your house. That’s good news, at least.” “I feel guilty,” she said, her voice flat. “Grandma is alone in that house. What if something happens? We don’t know where Doug is most of the time. I should have gotten myself excused from the trial.” “It’s too late now,” Ben said, hoping she’d stop worrying about things she couldn’t control. “You have to see this through. Your grandmother will be fine.” “How can you be sure?” For a moment, Ben saw tears in her eyes, then Cass whirled around. When he returned to the table, he saw her quietly eating a salad, acting as if nothing had happened. At least he could keep an eye on her. She was fragile, needed a friend. He hoped she would trust him.

***** Cass kept her head down and ate, slowly, quietly, until it was obvious she was the only one left eating. Why hadn’t Ben believed her? Sure, her “evidence” of conspiracy was shaky, but hadn’t Ryan’s murder pointed a clear path toward her version of the truth? After all, Ryan had gone to the herb store in broad daylight. Granted she had browsed until the store had closed, but in May it was still light out then. Even though her car was hidden from houses, next to a tree, it still took a lot of nerve, or desperation, to shoot someone. It could have happened fast, if Ryan had her trunk open already, for her bag of herbs. Shoot her, push her back. Cass wondered if Ryan had been robbed too. Under these circumstances, what right did Ben have to doubt her? She glanced over at him, sitting on a chair against the wall by the second bathroom.

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His head was down, but less than a second after she turned her head, he looked back at her. His gaze zinged her, an almost electric feeling. Why, Ben, she thought, why do you have to doubt me when I need you so? I can’t trust you if you don’t trust me back. She wondered when she had started to want to trust him. “Do you suppose Ryan’s funeral is today?” Heidi asked, her voice sounding scratchy as she broke the silence of the group. “I wish we could go.” “It could be,” Reginald said. “When this is over, we’ll visit her grave.” “I wish we could get more information,” Duc said, pressing his hands against the table as if he wanted to escape. “I would like to know if we are truly in danger. What if our families are in danger too?” “Between us,” Art said, leaning forward. “Has anyone else had any trouble? You know, harassing jurors is a crime.” Cass stared at him. Could this be her ticket off the jury? “I had my purse snatched the other day during lunch,” she volunteered. “That could have happened any time,” Shawn said derisively. Rats, she thought. If a scared juror didn’t think it was important, the bailiff wouldn’t either. And, after her recent experience with Ben, she decided not to volunteer any information about the conversation she’d overheard. “Didn’t Ben have a flat tire?” Heidi asked, tentatively. “I don’t think a flat tire and a purse-snatching add up to a conspiracy, dear,” Reginald said. “But one of us was murdered,” Duc said. “I think we should all be very careful.” There was a knock and D’Shelle opened the door. “Okay folks, we’re ready for you.” Somberly, they assembled in the hall and filed in when the bailiff gestured them forward. Oscar Nesell was on the stand, smoothing his tie. Cass unintentionally caught his eye for a moment and quickly averted her head. She could have sworn the man’s lips turned up in a little smirk. How she hated him, hated all of this. After the jury was seated, Mary Diamond rose from the counsel table, where she had been sitting with Detective Placer. The prosecutor wore a skirt for the first time, part of a navy suit with gold tone buttons. She even wore navy pumps with one-inch heels. Cass guessed this was her big day. “This shouldn’t take too long, Mr. Nesell,” Mary Diamond said dismissively. Nesell’s lips pursed at the disdain in her voice. “On November first, what time did this poker game at your cousin’s start?” “About nine, I guess, ma’am.” The defendant stared straight ahead at the prosecutor, who had walked next to the jury box in front of him. “And how long were you there?” “Maybe an hour?”

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“And Joey drank a few beers in that hour?” “Maybe three beers.” “In an hour?” “Well, it might have been an hour and a half, ma’am. I’m not trying to get him in trouble, you know.” “All right, so you were there an hour and a half. How old is your daughter?” “Three.” “So your daughter’s mother called at ten-thirty to ask you to come see a three-year old?” Cass saw Nesell’s eyes flicker. “She was sick,” he shrugged. “So if I was to subpoena her phone records I’d see this call at that time?” the prosecutor asked. Nesell blinked. “I don’t know what phone she used.” Mary Diamond glanced at the jury and took a breath. “So when you left, Joey followed you?” Nesell opened his mouth as if to agree, then closed it and took a moment to answer. “He left shortly after I did.” “Okay. So the next day, this accident has happened and you’re with friends on the way to get pizza and you suddenly decide to call Joey? Was he going to get pizza too?” Cass saw Reginald smile. “I said I’d call him,” Nesell said. “If I checked your phone records I’d see this call listed? I thought your girlfriend had your cell phone?” “I might have used a friend’s phone,” Nesell mumbled. The prosecutor glanced at the jury again before turning back to Nesell. “So you claim Joey invited you over and you went there with friends.” “Yes,” Nesell said emphatically. “And then you beat him up and forced his girlfriend into the bathroom?” “Objection, argumentative,” the defense attorney said. “Excuse me, I’ll rephrase,” Mary Diamond said. “What did you say to Brenda that caused her to go into the bathroom?” “I told her I had business to discuss with her boyfriend.” “Is this how you usually treat family?” Mary Diamond asked. “Objection,” the defense attorney called. “Did you say anything else to her?” the prosecutor asked quickly. “No,” Nesell said, nearly pouting.

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“Mr. Nesell, remember you are under oath!” Mary Diamond glared at the defendant. “Did you tell Brenda to shut the hell up?” Oscar Nesell smoothed his tie. “That’s not the point, ma’am. Her boyfriend had just hit me and she started—” “So it’s your testimony that Joey Quinn invited you into his house, with two of your friends, then hit you?” Nesell licked his lips. “He got in my face and it all happened pretty quickly, so—” “Answer the question, please. For once in your life just say yes or no.” “Ummm,” the defendant mumbled. “Could you repeat the question, please?” The prosecutor let her annoyance show. “What did you say to Brenda after you escorted her into the bathroom?” “I suggested she stay quiet so that her boyfriend and I could transact our business.” The defendant’s voice was calm now. “Did you say anything else to Brenda?” “Not at that time, no.” Nesell grasped the copper-colored jug of water on the ledge of the witness box and poured himself a cup of water. His hand was free of a wedding ring, despite the four children he claimed to have fathered at the youthful age of twenty-eight. Cass hated to even look at his hands, to be drawn in by the unexpected elegance of his long fingers. She was struck by the image of them reaching at her neck. Just listening to him made her feel strangled by sheer frustration. “You spoke to Brenda again later that day?” Mary Diamond asked. “Yes, ma’am, I spoke to Brenda again,” Oscar Nesell said obsequiously. Cass bent her head and rolled her eyes. From across the floor, the bailiff caught her eye and grinned. Cass wondered if all defendants behaved like this on the stand. She doubted the bailiff or the clerk would react to testimony unless it was unusual—they had to have seen it all by now. “At what point did you hit Joey?” “Before I left,” he said. The prosecutor visibly sighed. She walked back to her table and flipped through a couple of pages in her binder. “At some point you asked for five thousand dollars?” “Yes, ma’am. To fix my car.” “And Joey didn’t have the money?” Nesell shrugged. “You need to speak out loud for the court reporter, Mr. Nesell.” “I guess not.” “Did you suggest some form of payment plan?” “No, I needed to give the money to a mechanic to fix my car right away.” “Your car is a 2001 Mercedes coupe? Color gray?”

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“Yes,” Nesell said slowly. Cass sat up in her chair. Mary Diamond was building to something, bless her Hollywood heart. “Do you have license plate number 869 RZN?” “Yes,” Nesell said again, defiantly this time. The prosecutor went to her table and pulled a few photographs from her binder and tore off the strips of adhesive. She showed them to the defense attorney, who visibly sighed. Nesell looked at the pictures and admitted they were of his car and Mary Diamond had them approved and showed them to the jury. When they reached Cass, she saw the license plate clearly on what looked like an undamaged car. “Tell me about these photographs, Mr. Nesell,” the prosecutor said. “Ummm, I guess it’s my car.” “You guess?” “It’s my car,” he conceded. “What date were these photographs taken?” “It says November second on them.” “Was Brenda ever in this car?” “Yes.” “Can you point to the five thousand dollars’ worth of damage?” Nesell shuffled through the pictures. He picked up one showing the rear of the car. “Here.” Cass couldn’t see much damage, certainly not to the degree of five thousand dollars. A little dent was all that showed. “Thank you.” The prosecutor took the pictures and gave them to the clerk. “At what point did you display your gun?” she asked as she walked back to the witness stand. “I never displayed a gun,” he said evenly, not caught by the ploy. “I see,” she said. “So after you discussed the car, how did Brenda’s engagement ring get involved?” “It was on the kitchen counter. I pointed to it and asked if it was worth five thousand. Joey said it was and I asked if I could take it as collateral. He said yes.” “And what about Brenda?” “I asked her if she’d like to go with me. I wanted to get to know her, since she was going to be family.” Cass rolled her eyes. She “reasonably doubted” the veracity of that statement. He should have thought of something better. She had expected something more menacing,

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not this evasive testimony. It somehow relaxed her. She looked over to Joey, curious what his reaction would be to this testimony and her heart skipped a beat. Doug, clad in a dirty trench coat and orange beret, was sitting in the back of the courtroom, across from the uniformed cop guarding the door. Cass’ heart jumped in her chest, telling her she wouldn’t die of this fright, but she felt herself begin to shake. Her legs trembled. She pressed her hands to them, but they shook too. “I believe in earlier testimony you told the court that Joey told Brenda to go with you.” “He did, after I offered to take her to lunch.” “Brenda agreed to this? I thought she was in the bathroom and you’d told her to shut up?” Cass squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t pay attention anymore, she just couldn’t. What was Doug doing there? Opening her eyes briefly, she glanced to the back of the courtroom. In horrified fascination, she watched as Doug ran his pinkish-gray tongue over his lips and smiled at her. Her hands flew to her face, instinctively, as if to cover her eyes. When she dared to look again, Doug was shaking his head at her. She turned to Reginald, but he was watching Nesell talk, not her. She could see Nesell’s lips were moving, but couldn’t hear anything coming out of them. How could she be so tortured and no one notice? Gathering her shredded composure, she told herself that Doug couldn’t do anything but frighten her. When she turned back, Doug was gone and Joey looked annoyed. She had missed the rest of Nesell’s testimony. Cass could barely make sense of the redirect. When the lawyers were finished with Nesell, the judge released the jury into the bailiff’s hands for the evening. The judge nodded in the direction of the jurors. “Ms. Lincoln will escort you to the jury room. We will reconvene tomorrow. Remember your instructions. Don’t talk about the trial with anyone and keep an open mind.” Cass shuffled out behind Reginald, surprised her legs still worked.

***** Ben knocked on Cass’ door at eight o’clock that night. She had been pale and drawn as he walked her to her car after the trial let out for the day. In the jury room, she had shivered each time anyone spoke to her as if startled out of a private hell. No matter what he thought of her conspiracy theories—she clearly felt she was in danger. She could be, if Doug truly was stalking her. Cass opened the door. Still pale, her blue eyes loomed huge in her face. She looked more delicate than ever.

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“What brings you by?” Cass asked, one hand out of sight, the other curled around the doorframe. “I came to see how you were,” Ben said. “You doing okay?” Cass’ face was clean of makeup. She had beautiful, clear skin. She should have looked healthy instead of fragile. “I’m okay.” “You don’t look it, not really.” He grinned. “Beautiful, but not okay.” Cass looked down. “Did you see Doug in the courtroom?” Ben stared at her, not sure he had heard her right. She looked up, calm, steadier than he’d have expected. “Doug?” It was stupid to repeat her, but he was disoriented by her question. Doug belonged on the street somewhere. “He was there today,” she said, her voice catching a little. “He ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned at me. I nearly fell over.” “I didn’t see him,” Ben said slowly, just filling the air. What on earth had Doug been doing there? Had he turned into a trial junkie? “I’m not stupid, Ben. There’s something going on. You’ve got to believe me. I’m terrified. That man’s been in my house. He’s been in restaurants, outside the courthouse and now in our very courtroom. You can’t tell me it’s all a coincidence. It’s too farfetched.” Ben blinked. “I agree the evidence points to Doug stalking you. It’s the part where you think he’s being directed by Nesell or Detective Placer that is a little out there for me.” “It’s true,” she said, with a stubborn tilt to her chin. “How else would he know what courtroom I was in?” He was unable to decide if she was paranoid or if there was indeed too much coincidence at this point. “Can I come in?” Cass sighed and opened the door to him, keeping her body shielded by the door. When she shut it behind him, he could see why. She hadn’t washed her hair, but clearly had just come out of the shower. Her skin looked damp, with a bead of water still in the indentation above her breastbone. Her green satin robe was molded to her in spots where she had still been damp when she put it on. “Nice robe,” he said, feeling his body react to the sight of her nipples standing out in relief under the robe. Cass held out her arms, her hands bent inward in fists. “It was a Christmas present from Georgia.” He swallowed. He knew she was naked under that fitted robe and he wanted her like anything. He wanted that robe, which revealed so much yet covered everything, off of her lithe body. “Why don’t we sit?” he suggested, knowing he was staring at her.

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She nodded and walked him to the nubby-weaved beige sofa at the far end of the room. “What do you want to talk about?” Ben nearly laughed. The room was humid and when he rubbed a hand across his forehead it felt damp. They needed to talk. It was more important than his hormones. As he thought this, his eyebrows nearly raised in surprise. He must be getting mature in his old age. When had he put a woman’s feelings ahead of his own urges before? He couldn’t remember a time. It felt good. It might even assuage the guilt he felt at Ryan’s death. He could take care of this woman’s emotional needs. She needed him. “I want to talk about you,” he said. “I want to know how you are.” “Hanging in there. Starting to come around to your idea of us keeping together for safety,” Cass said. She reached behind her head and pulled the ponytail holder off her hair. It fell down around her face. He’d been wrong; her hair was damp too and it was wavy with the water in it, darker than it usually was. But he was here to be emotionally supportive, not to grab her and run his hands through her hair until it dried, soft and fragrant with shampoo. “I didn’t see Doug,” he said, to distract himself. She stiffened. He held up a hand. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. I was watching Nesell. I took a workshop in body language. It trains you how to tell if people are lying.” “Was he?” she asked softly, as if someone might be listening to them breaking the rules. “Oh yeah,” Ben said, glad to find a place where he was on sure ground. “No doubt in my mind.” She nodded. “That’s that, then.” “Not necessarily. There’s a lot of reasons people lie, a lot of reasons he could be lying. But under the circumstances, I’m going to trust Brenda’s testimony over his.” “Me too,” Cass agreed. Ben shifted on the couch, trying to keep his erection hidden. “What do you think Doug’s tie is to this?” Assuming there is one. “I expect Nesell is controlling him with drugs,” she said. “But Nesell has probably been in prison since November.” “He’s got Joey and Detective Placer,” she suggested. “But Joey got Nesell in trouble.” “I think Paris is responsible for that. Remember? She took Joey to the police station. What could he do but go along with her?” “That’s an interesting point of view.” Cass half-smiled. “We shouldn’t be talking about it anyway.”

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Impulsively, Ben took one of her white hands in his. He was surprised it was warm, soft, supple. “We should talk about it, if you think you aren’t safe as a result. Your safety is more important.” “I keep telling myself we’ll be okay, but the truth is Ryan died. Maybe, if I’d reported the purse-snatching, the conversation I’d heard, instead of waiting to see if I figured out who was talking, we’d have been more alert. But then, Ryan knew what had happened to me and she wasn’t safe. So why are you suddenly agreeing that I’m in danger?” “Whether or not Joey and Detective Placer are involved, I can see Doug is a threat to you,” Ben said simply. “You’re right to be concerned.” “I know Doug,” she said. “I know what he’s capable of.” Ben moved closer to her on the couch. He forgot his physical discomfort and took her other hand on his. “I’m so sorry for that. I’m so sorry you’ve got to go through this. If I knew how to make it go away I would.” “It’s not your job,” she said. “We’re both just jurors on the trial.” “I know,” he said. “But I can’t help feeling I let you down. I won’t again. Trust me and stay close.” She slid her hands from his, leaned toward his shoulder, put her head there. Ben smelled a clean apple scent from her hair. He put his arms around her as she said, “You’re trusting me now. It means the world that you understand.” “I do,” Ben said, kissing the top of her head where her part was. She lifted her face to him. “I feel rubbed raw. Have you ever felt like that? All my nerve endings are on fire.” He bent his head to hers. “You make me feel like that.” Blood pooled in his groin. She put her hand on his arm, ran her fingers the wrong way down the hairs there until they bristled with electricity. “I’m going out of my mind,” she whispered. His arm nearly shuddered with sensation. He found it difficult to speak. “I know exactly what you mean. But what are we going to do about it?” “Make me forget.” She said the arousing words so quietly that he nearly had to read her lips to understand. “Make me forget all of this for tonight. There’s nothing we can do to fix any of it.” “I’d like nothing better,” he said, his voice sounding strange and low to himself. “I’ll take you far away from here.” He slid his arm behind her knees and carried her through the hall as she directed him. It was easy to kneel next to her quilt-covered bed and lay her down, but she sat up, as unable to keep her hands of him as he was with her. He let her pull off his T-shirt and touch her lips to his chest. He tugged at the knot of her satin robe, spreading the fabric and delighting in her pale beauty. When they were ready, he pulled a condom package from his wallet. He embraced their shared magic, took his due as she moaned breathlessly against his lips and leaned 99

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over her, entered her, muzzled her sighs with his lips as he created a warm, pleasurable world with her, where nothing but friction and heat and fireworks existed.

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Chapter Ten Tuesday

D’Shelle was still in the jury room after everyone filed in. Ben saw she hadn’t brewed the jury’s coffee yet. He stopped in front of the cabinet next to her. “Listen, I was wondering if you’d heard any more about Ryan’s death. We’re all pretty worried.” “I know it’s a difficult time for everyone,” D’Shelle said pleasantly and turned on the water tap to fill the coffee maker’s reservoir. “Don’t you think we ought to know if we’re in danger?” he asked, frustrated by her lack of engagement. “Is it known if her death was connected to the trial in any way?” The bailiff shrugged. Ben put his hand on the counter, wishing the damp surface was the woman’s shoulder and he could shake some information out of her. Didn’t Ryan’s death, the jury’s fear, have any effect on her? “That’s all you have to say?” D’Shelle’s homely, broad face turned to his. “I don’t know anything about that juror who was killed.” Ben stared at her for a moment, then turned away. There hadn’t been anything in the paper, either. Cass, looking lovely but unusually casual in jeans and a blue and white striped oxford shirt, sat at the end of the rectangular table. He smiled at her, wondering why she had decided to drop her usual formality. He caught Shawn’s eye as he sat. The young man grinned. There was a time, Ben realized, where he’d have wanted to keep his passion-filled night with Cass a secret in case Heidi, a cute freckled redhead, might also be attracted to him. He had been that shallow. But for once, he wasn’t interested in the next woman, the next experience. He didn’t want to be bad news for Cass Bellair. And he wanted to keep her safe. He had to accept her fears and keep an eye out around the courthouse. Could Detective Placer get back into the jury room, for instance? How paranoid did a guy have to be to protect his girlfriend? The word set him back. He sat at his usual place along the far wall. He didn’t do girlfriends. He did uncomplicated. But this was different. This was Cass.

*****

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The defense rested after the testimony of Oscar Nesell. During the witness shuffle, Cass had time to spare a thought for the night before. The way Ben kissed her goodbye as he left her house at five that morning made her think it might not have been a onenight stand. She wondered what the future held for them. Their current circumstances were so far from her real life. Still, a bubble of hope grew inside her. She felt almost happy. Love had that power, but surely she didn’t love Ben Cameron. Yet. The prosecution had the right to reopen their case and Mary Diamond did so. Her first witness was Joey Quinn, who had also testified on the first day of the trial. Cass shivered, fear overlaying her happiness as he took the stand, looking deceptively young, deceptively…victimized? “Joey, I’m sorry to take more of your time, but there are a couple of issues I’d like to clarify,” the prosecutor said. Joey, baby-faced and sallow in a yellow T-shirt, nodded. His expression was surly, Cass thought. She could understand him looking sick, even nervous, but not angry. It made her conspiracy theory sound that much more rational. “We need to talk about the gun, Joey.” Mary Diamond, who was back to her usual wardrobe in a beige pantsuit and matching wedge heels, knelt to pick up a box under her table. Inside of it, she showed the court, was a gun. She held it out to Joey. “Do you recognize this gun?” she asked. “No,” he said, pressing his lips together. Mary Diamond’s face sagged as she realized her main witness had become hostile. “Joey, the police found this in the bushes at the apartment complex where your wife was rescued. Isn’t this the gun that Oscar Nesell pointed at you after she was forced into your bathroom?” “I don’t know.” “Why don’t you know?” “I don’t remember that day clearly.” Cass remembered the monotone his original testimony had been given in. Now his words were clipped, terse. “Did Oscar Nesell point a gun at you?” Mary Diamond asked, clearly exasperated. The corners of Joey’s mouth turned down. He looked older than he had a few minutes ago, hard. Or maybe it was just that Cass didn’t trust him anymore. “It happened so fast.” The prosecutor stepped to the witness stand. Her face was less than two feet from his. “Are you changing your testimony from last week?” Joey didn’t look her in the eye and tilted his entire upper body away from hers to the right. He glanced at Nesell, who stared back at him placidly. “I might have exaggerated,” Joey said in a low voice. “I see,” Mary Diamond said, drawing out the words until they expressed her disappointment. “Can we talk about Brenda’s engagement ring?” Joey turned his head toward the judge. “Yeah.” 102

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“Oscar Nesell testified you gave it to him. You said he took it.” He didn’t respond for a moment and Cass bet he would retract his testimony there too. She wanted to share this moment with Ben, to point out the truth of her convictions, but Joey surprised her. “It disappeared when they left,” he said, finally. Cass knew the ring had been discovered on Oscar Nesell, not Brenda. One of the officers had said that. It appeared there was only so far Joey could backpedal. “So you didn’t give the ring to Nesell.” Joey looked down. “No.” “I have no further use of this witness,” the prosecutor said. Joey stepped down and the next witness was sworn in. He was the manager of the repair department of a local Mercedes dealership and he testified that the damage to Oscar Nesell’s car would only cost about two thousand to fix. Not only had he seen the pictures, he had seen the car. He nearly put Cass to sleep with his drawn-out testimony about dents and paint. Cass wasn’t really sure what his testimony proved when she thought about it. Nesell could have been lying to Joey, or Nesell’s mechanic could have been lying to him about the cost of the repairs. Big deal. People cheated each other in little ways all the time. Nesell still stole the ring and kidnapped Brenda, most likely by gunpoint. After all, what would the gun have been doing in the bushes otherwise? The only weird thing was why had it never come up in Brenda’s testimony. Had it something to do with the cocaine she had in her possession? The dealership manager was the final witness in the trial. Cass couldn’t believe these hours of sitting in court were finally coming to an end. As Judge Yu droned on before sending them to lunch, Cass wondered if the danger they were all in would really be over when the trial was finished. Could she leave it all behind her, all the intensity, the fear? She could be going home tomorrow. The closing arguments would be that afternoon and then they would pick a foreman and begin deliberations. If everyone agreed quickly, it could be over by lunch. Would it be safe to go home? Would her relationship with Ben survive the end of the trial?

***** “It pays to have sharp ears,” Heidi said after everyone sat in the jury room. She sat rigidly at the edge of her seat, her freckles standing out in sharp relief under unusually pale skin. “What did you hear?” Shawn asked. Cass wondered if there might be a relationship starting there. She had noticed them sitting together more and more often, but she had been too wrapped up in her own situation with Ben to pay too much attention to the allegiances of the others.

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“I’ve been busting to tell you guys all morning,” Heidi said, drumming her fingers on the table. Even Duc closed his book and leaned forward. He was the only one still trying to read during breaks, maybe because he seemed the most nervous of the jurors. Cass wished she could drown her own fears in a book. “When we lined up in the hallway this morning, I was standing in front of an open door and I heard a couple women talking right inside one of the offices down the hall from us.” “What did they say?” Reginald asked. Heidi coughed. “That the juror who died was killed by a gun used in a drug-related murder in Kent back in March. They had to be talking about Ryan.” Cass’ stomach lurched as she remembered the bloodstain in that city of Kent parking lot. Poor Ryan. “So Ryan’s death was related to drugs?” Art asked. He looked at Cass and Ben, clearly expecting them to have the answers. “Did she do drugs?” Ben glanced at Cass and shrugged. She shook her head. “I don’t know.” “I wonder if that parking lot is a popular spot to purchase drugs,” Art mused. A nervous energy suffused Cass. She stood and paced the narrow aisle behind the chairs along the windows. “Does it matter? I mean, isn’t it likely this whole trial is connected to drugs?” Silence fell. Cass felt almost embarrassed by the horrified looks on some of her fellow jurors’ faces, but a few people, like Art and Heidi, nodded. “Nesell wanted five thousand for something,” Duc finally said, scratching his chin. “You may be right. It wasn’t for his car.” “We should wait to discuss it until tomorrow,” Reginald said in his quiet, authoritative way. “When it is time to deliberate.” “Everything about Ryan is important, I think. Nesell didn’t kill her, he was in jail,” Heidi said, her eyes fever-bright. “Whoever killed her is still out there; it’s like, his associates or someone like that, maybe, but not him. He’s obviously locked up at night. You know, that little door near where he sits in the courtroom? I’m sure it leads to the jail by the parking lot.” “Joey,” Cass said on a breath. Art stared her down. At first she thought he was angry she’d said it, but he was only concentrating. She could see him follow her thought. “Has anyone wondered why Detective Placer is always in the courtroom?” Art asked. “Bingo,” Cass said. “I’ve seen Joey and Placer talking. Neither of them is locked up at night.” “Merciful heavens,” Reginald said and clasped his hands together on the table.

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“Heidi, did those women say if that gun was still at large?” Art asked. “What do you mean?” “How did they know it was the same gun?” “Ballistics, probably,” Shawn said. “They don’t need the gun, just the bullet. They can tell it was from the same gun. That’s how my cousin got put away. They found a gun on him and matched a bullet fired from it to a bullet they already had.” “But think about it,” Art said. “What if the police had the gun and then it disappeared?” Ben grinned. “I think that’s a little too easy.” “It wouldn’t surprise me if Placer was bad news,” Shawn said. “He’s got that vibe about him. I think he persuaded that Diamond chick to put Joey back on the stand and look what a disaster that was.” Reginald held up his hand. “I think we should stop there,” he said. “Unless one of us has clear evidence this jury has been tampered with.” “Cass?” Ben asked quietly. She shook her head. “Nothing new has happened. It’s obvious you couldn’t persuade anyone that my purse-snatching was jury tampering. Besides, there wasn’t anything about the trial in my purse even if that was the motivation behind it.” Reginald nodded. “Too bad, though.” Cass looked at him in surprise. The elderly gentleman smiled at her. “I don’t like this at all, but we’ve got to see it through.” “I just wonder what the murderer wanted to accomplish when he killed Ryan,” Heidi said. “I mean, what was the point?”

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Chapter Eleven When the jury filed back into the courtroom after lunch, they were each handed a thick set of documents titled Court’s Instructions to the Jury. Cass listened carefully as Judge Yu read each one, clarifying what bits of testimony, what phrases she should have been listening for in the testimony all along. When the judge was done, Cass’ attention shifted to the prosecutor, who was running her finger down the top sheet of a yellow legal pad. Mary Diamond glanced in the direction of the judge as the silence in the room become palpable. She rose from her seat and began her closing argument. “Thank you all for the sacrifices you have made to be here,” she said. “You have a very important job to do. We’re asking you to find the defendant, Oscar Nesell, guilty of robbery in the first degree and kidnapping in the first degree. We will also ask you to return a special verdict for count one.” Cass straightened in her seat. The gun. Had the weapon in the bushes really belonged to Nesell? “Oscar Nesell has tried to tell you his actions on November second were justified, but the simple truth is what he did was illegal and punishable by the law. He admitted to each action in his testimony, which means you need to return to a verdict of guilty on all charges.” The prosecutor walked to a pad of paper on an easel facing the jury that had been set up next to the witness stand. “I’m going to walk you through the decisions you need to make to return these verdicts.” She pulled off the blank top sheet to show the itemized elements of the crime. The first few demonstrated where and when the crime occurred. “Note the defendant needed to intend to commit theft of the property. We know Oscar Nesell intended just this, because he wanted five thousand dollars from Joey Quinn. We know the taking of this ring was against Joey’s will because he didn’t give it to Nesell. Force was certainly used. You’ve seen the pictures of Joey and Oscar Nesell taken by the police. Joey’s face was a bloody mess. Oscar Nesell’s wasn’t.” Cass glanced at Nesell’s blank, yet somehow angry face as the prosecutor continued. “Now, the kidnapping charge. First of all, Nesell admits Brenda was held as a hostage to the value of that ring. If it hadn’t been worth five thousand dollars, something was going to happen to her. She was taken without her consent—her boyfriend had been beaten and there was a gun. Oscar Nesell clearly had no legal authority to take her.”

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She raised her voice and spoke slowly. “We ask you to return a verdict of guilty on all counts.” Mary Diamond offered a tight-lipped smile to the jury and went back to her seat. She bent her head over her notes, as if making sure she hadn’t missed anything. Cass saw Nesell’s fingers at the edge of the counsel table and realized he was gripping his hands around it. Then her vision of him was blocked as his lawyer stood, stooping, too thin for his tired powder blue suit. “You and I may not think selling your fiancée’s engagement ring to finance the results of a car accident is very nice, but that’s all this case is about. Joey Quinn needed to repay a debt to Oscar Nesell. All he had available was a ring, so that’s what he offered.” The lawyer’s delivery was quick and flat and he didn’t look the jurors in the eye the way the prosecutor had. “This whole situation is a misunderstanding created by a young man not wanting to be honest with his future mother-in-law when she came for a visit. Joey didn’t want to admit he made a dumb mistake. But this has gone too far. Mr. Nesell shouldn’t have to pay for another young man’s failings.” The attorney pointed his arm in the direction of the prosecutor. His thin arms made the gesture look birdlike. “The prosecution has not proved the gun put into evidence was ever in Oscar’s possession. There were no fingerprints on the gun. The gun was not found on him. You cannot convict him on any of these charges and we ask for a verdict of not guilty on all of them.” He dropped his gaze to his shoes and slunk back to his chair, almost as if he felt embarrassed by his closing argument. Cass was not convinced and turned to the judge, who nodded at the assembled jurors. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “You may, indeed you must, discuss the trial.” The bailiff led the jurors away to begin their deliberations. It was three p.m. and they wouldn’t be released for the day until at least four. It’s too bad they couldn’t just deliberate at CoffeeHaus, Cass thought. It would be more comfortable. As they moved across the hall to the jury room, D’Shelle said, “I won’t be able to come in without your invitation. If you need to communicate with the judge, give me a call and I’ll bring you a form you can fill out, okay? I’ll have to knock when I get here. The foreman should fill out the form and give it to me.” Then she left, the door shutting heavily behind her. They silently took their usual places around the table. The room felt more enclosed than usual, more claustrophobic. The only air-conditioning was a fan and it moved the air fitfully. Reginald leaned back in his chair and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt as Art slumped in his seat. Cass tried to smile at Heidi, thinking almost happily, it was almost over. But, she remembered Ryan just then. It was finally time to choose a foreman, the part of this experience that had excited her late friend the most. Now she’d never have a chance. Cass wondered if Ryan had hoped to be elected foreman herself. “So now what?” Art said as they sat at the table. “We must elect a foreman,” Duc said. “How are we going to do that?”

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Cass glanced to Ben, who smiled sympathetically at her. He was probably as tired as she was. They hadn’t slept much the night before, too happy in each other’s arms to squander a moment for rest. She thought about the eleven other people around her and hoped they had the sense to convict Oscar Nesell. Others who had been in the courtroom that day were guilty of various crimes themselves, but this jury could only convict one man, the man who that dealer, that addict, that corrupt cop all circled around, the man they didn’t appear to want convicted, even though two of them had put him in the defendant’s chair in the first place. Art rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Let’s get this show on the road. Reginald, why don’t you be our foreman?” Expectant eyes turned to the elderly gentleman, who shook his head, eyes creasing from the power of his smile. He bowed his head slightly at the rest of the jurors. “I thank you, but I must decline. I’m in my golden years. I’ll leave the leadership and the stress to the younger folk.” “You’re sure?” Ben asked. “We’d like to have you.” Reginald shook his head. “The decision is among yourselves.” Cass could almost hear the collective sigh of the jury. “Why don’t we do a silent vote?” she suggested. The bailiff had finally allowed them to take their steno pads into the jury room. Cass tore a piece of paper from hers and ripped it into twelve pieces. She handed one to each juror. “Write down who you want to vote for, even if it’s yourself.” Ben smiled and wrote a name on his paper. Cass wrote down Ben’s name. He did own a company after all and he was calm by nature. He was sure to have the skills to manage a jury. “Now what?” Art asked as he folded his sheet. “Why don’t we pass them to you?” Cass suggested, handing him her folded piece. Art nodded, then opened the sheets and read out all the names. Ben won, with four votes. Cass wondered who they were, other than herself. She looked around the room. Heidi grinned at her, so she was obviously one of the three. Art looked disgruntled. He had two votes. Cass had one herself. Probably Ben had voted for her, which was sweet. She wondered if she’d have been able to successfully lead this diverse group to a verdict. As she turned to Ben he winked. She smiled back, somehow sensing his confidence in her abilities. His trust in her felt great. Could the specter of her ex-boyfriend’s betrayal, her father’s too, have finally lost its power? It had been so long since she’d made love with anyone and she knew she’d never felt anything like what she’d experienced with Ben. In his arms she felt such pleasure, such joy. With a pang, she realized if deliberations went well, she’d be back in her real life tomorrow. Then what? Would she and Ben go their separate ways? At least she had grown as a person this past couple of weeks. The future seemed so much brighter than it had before she met Ben. That could be what she took away from this experience. It might be enough. 108

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It wasn’t like she had time for a relationship, between work, school and Grandma. But she wanted one, with Ben. “Thank you,” Ben said, standing. “This is an honor. It’s getting late, but I think we have time for a quick vote to see where we stand. We’ve got three issues—the kidnapping, the robbery and the special verdict. So why don’t you all grab a piece of paper and write guilty or not guilty for numbers one, two and three.” Martin, the alternate who had become one of the twelve with Ryan’s death, raised his hand. “I don’t like that idea. What if this guy was your son? Wouldn’t you want us to at least discuss the charges before voting?” Ben nodded. “I understand where you’re coming from, Martin. However, we won’t know what to discuss without our vote. So let’s do that and even if we all agree the first time we’ll still discuss why we voted the way we did. Okay?” Martin nodded and opened his steno pad to tear out a sheet of paper. Cass quickly wrote guilty for all counts. After ninety seconds, even the clearly undecided had tossed their votes to Art. He glanced through them. “We haven’t agreed,” he said. “We’ve got ten guilties on the kidnapping, seven on the robbery and three on the special verdict.” Cass heard a couple of groans on the other side of the table and wished everyone had just voted guilty so they could get out of there. One of the younger male jurors slumped in his chair. Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, folks, we’ve got our work cut out for us. I’m new to this, but it seems like the best way to proceed would be to talk through the elements of the crime in each count, like the prosecutor did. Why don’t we start with the kidnapping?” Everyone nodded, but before Ben could get to the white board to start writing, the phone rang. He reversed direction and answered it. “Sorry about that,” Ben said after he hung up the phone. “It’s time to go.” Art groaned. “Why can’t we stay if we want to? We could finish this tonight.” Without thinking, Cass repeated a phrase she had heard. “The wheels of justice turn slowly.” Ben laughed and grinned at her. “You’ve got that right. You can be the jury comedienne.” “Oh sure,” Cass said. “From Jury Room One to the comedy club circuit, here I go!” She was absurdly pleased by his remark though. Silly really, but maybe she was learning to break out of the mental hole she had dug herself into during the past five years. Maybe Doug hadn’t destroyed her, just pushed her into hiding for a while. “Have you heard the one about the blonde who got lost in a haystack?” she asked Ben as they filed into the corridor. “No,” he said, grinning at her. Heidi turned around to listen.

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“When they pulled her out she said, ‘I was too embarrassed to go home. I’m having such a bad hair day!’” Ben tilted his head at her with his forehead wrinkled, as if still waiting for the punch line. Cass held her hand to her hair. “You know, she was so dumb she thought the straw caught in her hair was really her own. You know, because it was the same color.” “Oh,” Ben said, rolling his eyes. Heidi smirked. “Maybe I’m not ready for the comedy circuit,” Cass said sheepishly. “Kudos for trying,” Ben said, patting her on the shoulder. Cass looked up and saw Heidi staring at them, but the other woman just smiled and turned around. “I guess I’m a little rusty,” Cass said. “I used to love to tell jokes. I’m telling myself I should be more like Ryan. Carpe Diem, Seize the Day and all of that.” Ben caught her gaze with his own. “It’s a good way to be.” When they reached the parking garage, Cass smiled at Ben and said goodbye, wishing he would kiss her. She got her kiss, but it was just a peck on the cheek. He grinned at her, exposing his dimples. “You know, it’s kind of like I’m your boss now.” “Do I get a bonus for sleeping with you?” Cass quipped. Ben raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have to think about that.” “Am I going to see you tonight?” She bit her lip. “I don’t really have time, but—” “It’s okay, I have plans,” Ben told her. “From before. I’ll call you later?” “Okay.” Cass quirked the corners of her lips, disappointed. What if he had scheduled a date? What did he mean by before? Was this the player side of him coming out again? A bit disappointed by his casual wave as he turned down the row to her car, Cass went to her own. She had plenty to do and in truth, didn’t have time to hang out with him anyway, no matter how pleasurable it might be. What with one thing and another, she had never gotten around to doing any laundry, so when she got home, she grabbed the hamper in her room, then went down the hall to pick up the bathroom towels and Grandma’s laundry. After that, she intended to search for that present Grandma had claimed Doug brought her. This was the first chance she’d had to look for it. It could be stolen property or worse. As she entered the kitchen to retrieve the dishtowels, the phone rang. She took the receiver and answered. “What’s a nice girl like you doing home all alone?” Ben’s voice teased her ear. She smiled, feeling the familiar prickles at the back of her neck. Even if he did have a date, he was still checking to make sure she was home safe. It was sweet. “Hi boss, I was just going to do some laundry.”

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“Do you have to?” He sounded disappointed. “You’re not soaking in your bathtub, covered by nothing but bubbles, or at least naked but for a towel, ready to step into a steamy shower? If so, I’d like to join you.” “I’m sensing a theme here,” she said. “And in a sense, you aren’t so far off. There will be few clothes on my body anytime soon unless I do the laundry.” She wrinkled her nose at the hamper. “I can’t object to that.” He lowered his voice. “Maybe I’ll stop by and see how you’re doing later.” She felt a flicker of excitement. “What are you going do until then?” A subtle way surely, to ask about those plans of his. “I’ve got a meeting about another proposal. Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve got plenty to keep myself out of trouble. But I’ll still be thinking of you and what you’d look like covered by bubbles.” “Sounds like fun.” She altered her voice to what she hoped was a sexy purr. “If you get bored, please join me in the laundry room. I hear you can have a lot of fun on a washer.” “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll help you fold.” “The perfect man,” Cass quipped. She said a quick goodbye to him, sure she’d hear his knock before too long and picked up her hamper. The laundry room was in the basement. She hauled the hamper down the steep steps then set it on the ground before opening the laundry room door. She sneezed, smelling something old and musty and her eyes watered. A sense of unease came over her and, thinking of Ryan, she picked up her laundry basket almost as if it was a weapon. The room looked perfectly normal. She had just been silly. After all, she was in her own home, behind locked doors. She stepped inside, reaching for the light switch. The room appeared undisturbed. Grandma couldn’t do steps now so she was the only one that came here. Cass dropped her basket on the floor next to the washer and started separating the clothes. Absorbed in her task of separating whites from colors, she didn’t initially react when she heard the sound of the door at the top of the basement stairs closing. Grandma must have come home early from the doctor’s appointment and dinner outing Andrea had taken her on. But then, she heard footsteps on the stairs. There was no way that was Grandma. Had Ben come in? But no, she had locked all the doors upstairs. It couldn’t be him. Her heart began to pound in her chest as, inexplicably, she thought again of Ryan. Surely it was just Georgia? Cass glanced at the laundry room door. It had a lock. She moved swiftly to the door to shut it. Whoever was out there could just knock. They’d say something; she’d recognize the voice and would settle down, laughing at her fears. She wasn’t quite fast enough.

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Her right hand was on the door as she pushed it shut. Suddenly she felt it come to life in her hands, the painted wood scraping her palm, still damaged from the pursesnatching, as it slid across her long, painful gash and slammed against the wall. She cried out in pain and pushed her wounded hand against her chest, covering it with her left. “Remember me?” A man’s voice hissed in her ear. Cass felt a trickle of sweat drip down her back in the humid room and smelled her fear as she backed against the wall. It felt icy at her back. The muscles of her legs tensed, as if to run, but there was nowhere to go. She heard the door shut. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispered, almost to herself. “You got that right,” the man said, guttural now. “I shouldn’t be alone with you again. You hate me and I hate you. But you’ve got to make this right. The boss said so.” Ben? The boss? But no, that was a joke; he was talking about someone else. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cass said. Her mouth felt dry, as if she hadn’t had anything to drink for days. It was like those boys in the park, only ten times worse. This felt familiar to her, as if… “The trial, you stupid bitch. I’m talking about the trial.” Cass pushed her hands through the thick air and covered her ears, hiding from that despised voice. “Go away,” she moaned. Doug. This was her nightmare, her worst fear come to life. How had he gotten in? Grandma must still be at her appointment. It wasn’t her fault this time that Doug had gotten in the house. Doug put his hands on her shoulders and pushed. Cass slid down the wall bonelessly, gagging on the fetid stink from his underarms. “Leave me alone, please,” she pleaded. The boys in the park had run, when they got what they wanted. Even Doug had run, after he hurt her five years ago. Evil always left in the end, so you could pick up the pieces. “I can’t help you.” “You can make me leave you alone,” he challenged with a sneer. “Vote not guilty on all charges.” Something sparked in her at the unexpected words. “Why?” His laugh was grating, disjointed. “Because Grandma gets it if you don’t.” She scuttled sideways against the wall on her damaged hands, struggled to her knees. She had to defy him this time. She was older, smarter and didn’t want to lose another five years of her life to post-traumatic stress. It had taken so long to rebuild herself; she had just begun to think of a future. Would reason work with him? “If I tell the judge someone’s interfering with the jury, they’ll declare a mistrial. I’m sure they’re already suspicious because of Ryan.” Doug moved swiftly to where she had retreated and grabbed a handful of Cass’ hair. Her chin thunked against her chest as he pulled her hair up. “Don’t you dare try to screw with me again, Cassie. Don’t forget what happened to that girl juror.” 112

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Cass’ stomach twisted. These people wouldn’t think twice about killing someone else. But wait. If they killed her, the trial would be over. There wouldn’t be enough jurors to finish. If they killed Grandma though…it was a good threat. Her hands were tied and knowing a police officer was involved meant she didn’t have anywhere to go for help. Except Ben. Still though, she wanted to take care of this herself. “I don’t understand why a mistrial isn’t acceptable. You’ll get what you want,” Cass told him. “It’ll be over.” “No, it won’t. You don’t understand how big this is. Don’t screw with me, Cassie.” He tugged at her hair again, sending another wave of pain through her scalp and into her neck. “So tell me,” Cass pleaded. “Why is this so big?” “Because Nesell is angry, bitch. Because he owns us. Quinn screwed up and now we’re all paying for his stupidity.” “Why are you involved?” Cass asked. “Can’t I help you? Can’t your parents?” She tried to conceal her shudder. “You have friends.” Doug let go of her hair. “Don’t make me laugh. You wish I was back in prison.” “No,” Cass protested. “I just want to you be healthy. So does Georgia. There’s help available—” She stopped as Doug raised his hand. The smell of him nearly made her wretch and humiliatingly, she was too afraid of the pain of the intended blow to keep arguing. “Listen to me,” he snarled. “You tell anyone about our chat and my sweet ex-wife is going to experience the same kind of pain she put me through when she divorced me. Nesell is innocent, understand?” For a second, Cass was blinded by a flash of light. In a moment, she realized it was from the door opening and shutting. Doug was gone. As she knelt there on the floor, the strangest thing, she thought, was that he hadn’t really touched her. They couldn’t hurt her, make it obvious that something had happened, or the trial would be over, only to start again. She should have conquered her fear, kept trying to make him see reason. But what kind of power did she have when they threatened her family? It was a threat they could easily carry out. Grandma would let Doug right into her home, unsuspecting. Even Georgia was vulnerable, though she’d be too smart to let Doug near. Doug held her prisoner more completely than jury duty did. Cass struggled to her feet, then tugged a metal chair from the wall. She pushed it under the knob of the door to keep it secure. It was silly, really; Doug was unlikely to return. Her head ached from where he had repeatedly seized her hair and her knees were still knocking. Her mind struggled to orient itself, but the only coherent thought she could come up with was that she still had laundry to do. On autopilot, she retrieved her pile of whites. Once she had her clothes in the washer, she wilted against the thrumming

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machine. What was she going to do? She couldn’t call the police. She didn’t know if Detective Ron Placer was the only bad cop involved or not, but she didn’t want to take the risk of putting her family in any more danger. As the washer hummed, her brain slowly calmed enough to think. Of course she wanted justice, but at what cost? Grandma didn’t deserve to die because some drug dealer beat another drug dealer. Georgia didn’t deserve to get hurt because her exhusband had sold his soul to his addictions. As for the trial, it wasn’t the drug dealers that Cass was really concerned with. Brenda had been the seeming innocent victim in all of this. She deserved justice. She deserved to see Oscar Nesell put away. Even so, Brenda would have to wait until another day for justice, though Cass wished the girl could have the same closure, or at least the satisfaction she herself had experienced when the cell door closed however temporarily on Doug. But no matter what, her responsibility was to her own family. Time passed in a kind of haze. She could still smell Doug’s sour body odor in the room. Was he still upstairs, stealing from them or perhaps waiting to threaten her again, to hurt her? At least she finally knew he had lied at his trial. At the trial he said he didn’t remember his attack on her. A drug blackout. No, he really was evil. Even so, she wished Doug had gotten clean. Why made people get back into drugs, even back living in their parents’ houses with no responsibility? The washer beeped and Cass loaded her whites into the dryer, then paced back and forth to the rhythm of the machine on the hard concrete floor. The room smelled mostly of fabric softener and detergent now, yet somehow, the odor wasn’t a clean one. Maybe she’d never feel clean again. Cass curled against the wall, wishing Ben were there with her, wishing she could share her pain with him, her fear. She couldn’t stop running the tape of what Doug had done to her through her head. The pain in her hand thrummed and she couldn’t get past it. Eventually, she heard doorbell ring upstairs. Her heart stopped as she instantly thought of Doug. He wouldn’t ring the doorbell. Neither would Grandma. Distantly, she remembered the chair she had shoved against the door and moved it away. She went upstairs, slowly. The rooms were undisturbed, like Doug had never been in the house to wreak havoc. She opened the front door. Ben stood there, haloed by the light of the setting sun. “Cass, are you okay?” He tilted his head at her and reached out his hand to her chin. She could only imagine her appearance and stepped back, glad he was there and yet wishing he wasn’t. “You’re always asking me that. I had to do my laundry.” As she said the words, her eyes began to burn and she gave in, bursting into tears. “I didn’t have time to clean up.”

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“Cass, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Ben asked, putting his arms around her. “It’s okay. I know the last week has been really overwhelming for you. Do you have to do chores tonight?” “Yes,” Cass sniffed and opened her mouth to tell him what had happened. But she couldn’t do it; she couldn’t risk her family. She took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay, I’m just getting hysterical over nothing. I haven’t been sleeping well.” “I don’t blame you and it hasn’t been nothing. It’s been a traumatic time for all of us, with Ryan’s death.” Cass felt her body stiffen. Who had killed Ryan? Surely if Doug had a gun he would have waved it at her today. “I do miss her, Ben,” she whispered. “I miss her a lot. You can become close friends really quickly during an intense experience like this one.” “Like us?” “We’re more than friends.” She clutched his arms, as if to satisfy herself that he was real. He bent his head toward hers and hovered over her mouth until she tipped her face just enough to brush her lips against his. As he put his hand around the nape of her neck to caress her, she joined him willingly in deepening the kiss. Warmth radiated from his strong palm to the rest of her aching head, but when his hand moved up her neck to the back of her head her heart started racing. She jerked back instinctively. “What’s wrong?” he asked. Cass put her hands to her head. Her scalp was tender from where Doug had pulled her hair. And she knew she smelled even though Ben didn’t seem to have noticed. No more panic attacks, she told herself. I’m safe, I have to tell myself I’m safe. She swallowed against her terror and spoke slowly, trying to be calm. “I’m overwhelmed, I guess.” Ben peered at her and shook his head. “There’s more, I know you well enough for that. Is your head hurting?” She breathed through her nose. Slow, deep, calm. It’s okay now, Ben is here. “I bumped it earlier.” “On what?” “Ah,” Cass glanced around, tensing against the flashback that threatened to overwhelm her. “On the dryer door, when I put the clothes in.” “How did you manage that?” “I’m a terrible klutz when I’m tired.” Cass tried to laugh, tried not to let the sound turn crazy. “You haven’t known me long enough to see. Georgia is the same way. One time when we were kids, we were at a grocery store buying candy and she realized we were going to be late for a movie. She freaked out and dropped our basket on her toe and broke it. We got into a ton of trouble with Mom when we had to admit we were out buying candy when we weren’t supposed to.” He grinned. “Why weren’t you supposed to? Was it dinner time?” 115

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Cass felt her heart slowing. Her breathing trick was working. “Georgia is diabetic.” “I didn’t remember that.” “Well, I tend to be a little that way myself. You know, shaky when I haven’t eaten.” The excuse might explain her behavior. She couldn’t tell Ben about the attack. He’d want to take some action and that would be the worst reaction. At least Doug couldn’t be in the house any longer, or he wouldn’t have let her get to the door. “You haven’t been eating enough, that’s for sure. You could stand to gain a few pounds.” “I’m always on the run.” “I know what you mean.” He put his arm around her and shut the front door, walking her toward the kitchen. “Speaking of that, I came to see if you wanted to get a pizza. My meeting didn’t take too long and I didn’t stop to eat on the way over. I brought a DVD, a comedy. Does that sound like fun?” “Sure,” Cass said. It would take her mind off tomorrow’s deliberations. A renewed feeling of panic washed over her for a second, but she forced it back down. Slow, deep, calm. How was she ever going to persuade the jury to free Oscar Nesell? There were only three votes so far for the special verdict. Those votes might not be so hard to reverse under peer pressure. But the rest? Majority rule would run the other way. Once in the kitchen, he peered searchingly again at her. Cass tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling self-conscious. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Cass nodded and tried to smile, then led him to the wall phone to call for the pizza. In a few minutes, it would be like Doug had never been here. She wouldn’t even be able to sense her fear still hovering in the room.

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Chapter Twelve Cass dumped her laundry basket on the kitchen table and sat in a chair next to Ben. It was still fairly bright outside and sunlight shone through the windows, which didn’t match her mood at all. “I’ve been thinking about tomorrow,” Ben said with the enthusiasm of a man secure in his abilities and clearly oblivious to the black fog she felt hanging over her head. “We want to put a structure into place for the deliberations.” Cass stayed silent as he described a timed plan for discussing the issues before them without losing hours on one potential point of disagreement. After he finished his explanation, she smiled wanly, trying not to display her lack of excitement, though she really was impressed by his competence. She opened the pizza box, which had arrived while she was taking the whites out of the dryer. But when she transferred it to nice plates and set it on the table, the sight of all the tomato sauce, so like blood, nauseated her and she couldn’t eat a bite. Ben insisted she at least eat some of the green salad she had prepared, but all she could think of was getting some chocolate and caffeine into her system. It acted as a mood stabilizer and not just during PMS either. She wanted to enjoy her time with Ben and not spend it worrying about Doug and her family. There was nothing she could do tonight about, or for, them. The danger began tomorrow. As she watched Ben eat, Cass remembered drinking hot chocolate with her sister in the window seat of her childhood home in the Wallingford neighborhood of Seattle. Their mother had made hot chocolate from scratch when they were little. Georgia had been Cass’ best friend until she reached college age and moved out. Four years had seemed like such a great difference in age back then, but it didn’t now. Cass had to return the favor and protect her sister, like Georgia had taken care of her when their father had left. And while Cass was pregnant too, as much as she could. There wasn’t much Cass could do to protect her sister, other than do her best to ensure that Oscar Nesell went free. How could she change the minds of the ten jurors who were voting guilty for kidnapping? She needed to go over the jury instructions again and see if she could find some loophole between them and her notes, but everything was locked up at the courthouse. She wouldn’t get a chance to plan. All she could do was vote not guilty and use every inspiration she had to force the vote her way. If she hung the jury, there would be a mistrial and the whole thing would start again. That wouldn’t be good enough, according to Doug. She needed to win, or her family might not be safe. “Are you okay, Cass?” Ben asked, touching her on the shoulder.

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Even in her frightened condition, his touch sent a little thrill down her spine. “Just tired, I think,” she responded, instinctively leaning toward him. “Sorry. I’m really glad you’re here, even if I don’t show it very well.” “I can tell,” Ben said gently. “Every time you look at me you smile.” Cass wondered if he’d still care about her after she fought to let Nesell go free. She knew he was convinced of the man’s guilt. After all, so was she. “You’re easy on the eyes, Ben.” He grinned at her, so close that she could see the laugh wrinkles around his eyes. She wondered what he would look like at forty, fifty. Handsome, she was sure. Would she still know him then? Would he still look into her eyes like this? Would he like what he saw in her? She stood and took a couple of hot chocolate packets from the cupboard next to the stove, then filled a kettle with water and turned on the burner. A second after that, she decided to add coffee to her hot chocolate and got out her French press. The concoction wouldn’t taste nearly as good as a real mocha but it would do. When she finished school she would buy herself an espresso machine, one of the fancy ones, as a graduation present for herself. She tore open her packets of hot chocolate mix and poured them into mugs. “How long does this process take?” Ben asked. “Are you trying to avoid me? Do you want me to go?” “Was there something else I should be doing?” Cass asked, then blushed when she saw the grin on his face. “I’ve got ways to distract myself,” he said and wrapped his arms around her waist. Cass allowed him to pull her close, but couldn’t take her mind off the trial. “How did you vote on the special verdict?” she asked, realizing Ben would be her first battle. Ben lifted his head from where he had rested it on her shoulder. “What?” “There were ten for kidnapping, seven for robbery and three for the special verdict. How did you vote?” She gently pushed his arms away with her free hand and poured boiling water into the French press and the mugs of hot chocolate. “I voted to convict on all counts,” Ben said. Cass’ hand shook slightly on the mug. He was one of her biggest challenges, then. She finished stirring and handed the first mug to Ben, then turned back to finish her own. “How can you be so sure?” she asked. “The other day, I told you I figured the government wouldn’t be wasting our time if the guy wasn’t guilty,” Ben said. “People make mistakes.” Cass remembered his words from that day. At the time they hadn’t mattered—she had even agreed. Now, they put terror in her heart.

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“Not about stuff like this, Cass. Oscar Nesell beat that kid, waved a gun around and left with his teenage girlfriend. Those are the facts.” Cass shook her head, but Ben held up his mug before she could speak. “We’re going to be at this all day tomorrow, sweetheart. I guess you’re with Martin in wanting to discuss every little detail,” he paused, “which is fine, but not tonight.” “You came to my door,” Cass said, not wanting to end the discussion without scoring a point and certainly not willing for him to leave. “This is what’s on my mind right now.” “Cass, honey,” Ben said, spinning his words into a soft, sensual fog over her senses, “I’ve got better ideas for our recreation time that that.” “Such as?” Cass asked, trying to focus on the identities of the other two “guilty” voters on the special verdict. Of course she herself had originally voted guilty on all charges. Shawn? No, he just wanted to get this over with. Who was the other one? Not Duc or Martin. Heidi, probably, from what she’d said. Ben and Heidi were going to be the toughest to persuade. She sure hoped it wasn’t Reginald. “C’mon, sweetheart,” Ben said. He took the mug out of her hand and placed it on the counter. “I was drinking that!” Cass protested. “I can think of better things for your lips to do.” As he kissed her, Cass wondered if he would prove more amenable to her point of view after lovemaking, or with any kind of pillow talk. She couldn’t make love if she wasn’t in the mood. For a moment, she was certain she should say goodnight and get back to strategizing. But, despite her intentions otherwise, he moved her. She couldn’t help responding to the feel of his persuasive lips on hers, his masterful tongue coaxing her lips open. She couldn’t possibly say no when he caressed her neck with skillful fingers and somehow managed to get the single button of her yellow silk shell undone. She couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her lips as he slowly lifted the silk over her head, rubbing ever so slightly against her breasts, making her nipples tighten until every sensation against them was unbearably erotic. She couldn’t stop herself from fumbling at his belt, from forgetting her hot chocolate cooling on the counter. The room smelled like coffee, like chocolate, like him. Knowing Grandma wasn’t due home until after eight, she allowed Ben to lift her up onto the kitchen counter, to tug apart her legs and embrace her tightly. He filled her and it felt so right. “You are so much more than a distraction, Cass, so much more than a moment,” he gasped into her ear as he pounded into her again, sending her mind reaching for the stars. She tilted her head back and bit her lips. His mouth came down on hers. “I love your lips,” he whispered. “I love all of you. I adore you.” 119

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Cass’ eyes snapped open at the words. What was he saying? No, she closed her eyes again to savor the hot friction. It was just passion talk. “Oh, Cass,” Ben said, repeating her name over and over again, a crescendo of her name, of her being, as she joined him in a world made only of sensation, of touch, of slick bodies against each other, of harsh breathing, of light. Until there was nothing but him and his words of love. But when she lay at his side later, in her bedroom after a second wave of lovemaking, all she could think of was her family. Ben had fallen into a deep sleep. As much as she loved the way Ben held her tightly around the waist, she needed to call Georgia. She gently disentangled herself, then went into the kitchen to make the call. “Georgia, it’s me,” she whispered, when her sister picked up the phone. “I can’t hear you,” Georgia said. Cass raised her voice. Ben couldn’t hear her from the bedroom, but she was afraid he’d follow her, even though he seemed safely asleep. “It’s Cass.” “Oh, hey, sis. What’s going on? I hear Grandma’s driving Andrea nuts. Thank God you got her prescriptions filled. I can’t imagine what she’d be like without them. She still seems to be in so much pain.” “Is she worse?” “It’s hard to tell. Andrea says she is.” “Can you take tomorrow off? Maybe take her to the doctor?” “Honestly, I wish I could, but it’s impossible. I’d have to be in the hospital myself to get the day free.” “I’m worried,” Cass said. “What if Doug comes back?” There was a pause. “Do you think he will?” Cass thought. Assuming the deliberations didn’t end tomorrow, Doug wouldn’t do anything, right? Because she was doing what he asked. “Probably not,” Cass sighed. “I just worry.” “Me too,” Georgia says. “I’ll talk to her, remind her of what he’s capable of.” “Do that, okay? He’s a very, very, scary individual and we need to be careful. Maybe she’ll understand it better coming from you.” She wished she risked telling her sister everything. “The wife?” Georgia asked. “The ex-wife,” Cass corrected her firmly. “The favorite grandchild.” Georgia laughed. “Only because she sees me the least.” “Not true.” Ruefully, Cass remembered the scene from this morning, where Grandma threw her English muffin across the room because Cass hadn’t buttered it properly, the way Georgia always did. “Be careful, okay? Grandma’s not the only member of the family that loves you.”

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“I will. I’m so sorry I ever brought him into our lives. You know that, don’t you? I’m just so sorry.” “I know, Georgia. I love you!” “I love you too.” Georgia hung up. Cass realized she felt a little better, though she did worry about Grandma’s deterioration and her sister’s workaholism. At least Doug hadn’t reappeared. She hung up the phone, then went back to her room and snuggled into Ben’s strong, sleepy embrace. There was still time to enjoy him further before Grandma came home.

***** Wednesday “So we’re going finish this today, right?” Martin asked as they took their places around the table. Most of the jurors had a cup of coffee in front of them. The last of the CoffeeHaus beans Cass brought last Thursday had been used in this morning’s pot of coffee; there would be no more of the good stuff unless she went shopping. But she wouldn’t. That might demoralize this coffee-fanatic group enough to get her way if Cass was stubborn. And she would be. Ben held up his hands after they finished settling and told them about his plan for the format of the discussions. Everyone agreed. “How long do you think this is going to take?” Heidi asked. “I expect a couple of days,” Reginald said. “We have six days of testimony to consider and two crimes, plus the special verdict.” “We can throw that out right now,” said Tom, a twenty-something unemployed computer programmer. “They didn’t prove anything about a gun.” Go Tom, Cass thought, feeling hopeful. “We promised we’d discuss everything,” Martin reminded them. “Why would the victims have made it up?” Heidi asked. “And the gun was in the bushes!” “Because they wanted to make the situation look worse than it was,” Cass said. Her first salvo and now she knew Heidi was the third voter for the special verdict. She couldn’t believe she was going to try to break this jury. “Remember what Joey said? He might have exaggerated.” “I agree with Cass about the gun,” Duc said. “They did not prove that point.” “Nesell was wearing gloves,” Heidi argued. “So what if there weren’t any fingerprints?” Ben raised his voice. “Why don’t we start fresh?” Martin nodded. Cass could see blue-veined shadows underneath his eyes and Heidi’s too. She hoped Heidi would be too tired to argue. She doubted many jurors 121

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were sleeping well. She took a deep breath and glanced at Ben next to her, wishing she could take his hand. It might be easier to persuade this group of Oscar Nesell’s innocence if they were all too exhausted to think straight. As for herself, hopefully, fear would give her the adrenaline needed to persevere. “Let’s take a vote,” Ben said from one end of the table. “You really think anything has changed from yesterday?” Duc asked. “It often does,” Reginald said with his gentle smile. Cass hoped that Reginald was voting to acquit, because he would be hard to break. Her plan, rapidly formulated that morning before Grandma was awake and Ben had left, was to change her vote slowly, so she didn’t look like she’d gone crazy overnight. First, she changed her vote on the special verdict since that wasn’t well supported, taking the risk that the other charges were still undecided. When the ballots were given to Art, he counted them up. The only change was Cass’ changed vote for the special verdict. “Thanks,” Ben said. “Why don’t we tackle the special verdict first, then? We’ve got ten against and two for. I’m one of the two. Who is the other one?” “Me,” Heidi said. “Why would Paris know about a gun if there wasn’t one?” “You have to think about reasonable doubt,” Cass said, feeling like she was diving headfirst into battle, but relieved it wasn’t Reginald. “Testimony didn’t remain consistent on that point. Joey practically recanted when he said he exaggerated.” “She’s right,” Reginald said. “Joey changed his mind about the gun.” “Why would he do that?” Heidi asked. “He might have built the fear in his mind until the experience became even scarier for him,” Cass said. “I’ve been attacked. It’s hard to remember clearly what happened afterward.” “Was it anything like this?” Heidi asked. “Not exactly,” Cass said. She didn’t think it would be a good strategy to come off as the victim expert. Everyone would wonder why she wouldn’t want Oscar Nesell punished, since she’d been on the other side. “What did Brenda say?” Ben asked. “Did she mention a gun in her testimony?” “She didn’t say anything to the police,” Cass said quickly. “A few days ago, I didn’t believe the gun story,” Ben said. “But come on, a gun in the bushes a few feet away from where they arrested Nesell? Give me a break.” “They never said when the gun was found,” Duc said. “It could have been a different day.” “That’s ridiculous,” Ben protested. “The fact that the testimony has a hole in it creates reasonable doubt,” Cass said piously. “Does anyone know what the punishment is for the special verdict?” Heidi asked.

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“We aren’t supposed to think about that,” Reginald said. “It isn’t our job.” Ben was rustling through his notes. “I have to remind everyone that the issue of the gun might play into the kidnapping part too.” “Shit,” Shawn said, drawing out the profanity into two syllables. “I’m not sure about the gun, but he definitely took Brenda out of there against her will.” “There’s kidnapping two,” Ben said. “It’s in our packet.” “That’s right,” Duc said. “We have a choice.” Heidi read the kidnapping part of their jury instructions aloud. “It doesn’t matter about the gun for the kidnapping. If Brenda was held as a hostage, or to facilitate commission of a felony or flight from one, or to inflict bodily injury, or mental distress, then we’re covered. It could be any of those things.” “So what do you want to do about the special verdict?” Ben asked. They spent the rest of the morning going through their notes to find any reference to the gun, but in the end, the majority ruled. There would be no special verdict. Cass sighed to herself as she took a turkey sandwich from the bailiff. One down, two to go. “Great,” Ben said, sitting back with his third cup of coffee that day. “Let’s take another vote.” Everyone had finished their lunch and there wasn’t anywhere to go, or anything else to do, cooped up as they were in the small room. Cass watched the other jurors write quickly on their torn strips of paper and hand them to Art. It looked like everyone was set in his or her opinion. This turned out to be true as he read out the results of the vote. There were nine guilty votes for kidnapping and eight for burglary. Cass realized she was the only one who had changed her vote since the beginning for these two charges. It would be a long afternoon. An important afternoon. Cass wondered where Doug was. Hanging around the courthouse somewhere? She wished she had a view of the street from the jury room, but the windows looked out on what she assumed was the jail exercise yard. “Who changed their vote?” Art demanded. “It might have been two people,” Duc said. “We can vote separately on the issues.” “Yeah, right. C’mon, who did it? Was it you, Duc?” “It was me,” Cass said, staring at him defiantly. “Are you nuts?” Art half-stood. Ben put up his hand. “Calm down. Cass, what’s going on?” “She has the right to change her mind,” Reginald said gently. Art balled the papers in his fist. “Hey, don’t do that,” Shawn protested. “I want to use mine again.” “Too late.” Art tossed the wad of paper in the direction of a garbage can between Martin and the younger juror named Jeff.

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“Could we see a show of hands on the robbery?” Ben asked. “Who is voting against?” Cass was thrilled when Reginald raised his hand. He could plead the case on this charge. Jeff and Martin raised theirs too. “Reginald?” Ben said. “Do you want to explain your way of thinking to us?” “Certainly.” Reginald leaned back and took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t think what Mr. Nesell did was morally wrong. Joey did damage his car.” “Only a couple of days before,” Heidi protested. “Let’s let Reginald speak,” Ben said. Reginald blinked slowly, regaining his dignity. “Mr. Nesell had the right to recover from the damage done to him. I agree Brenda was probably frightened, but if you damage a man’s car without insurance of your own, you have to expect what’s coming to you.” “This is a family dispute,” Jeff volunteered. “My brother and cousin don’t get along and they whale on each other all the time. Just because Joey got beat up doesn’t count for much in my book.” “He wasn’t that beat up,” Martin observed. “A couple of punches was probably it.” “And isn’t it possible that Brenda took the ring?” Cass added. “She had that cocaine too. The cocaine puts all of Brenda and Joey’s testimony into question for me.” Shawn nodded. “Yeah. I guess I’m gonna change my vote.” Art swore under his breath. “Anyone else?” Ben asked. “Can I see those photographs again?” Drew asked. He was a very quiet man who rarely spoke, but had a kind face. He examined the photographs silently. Heidi took them next. “I don’t buy it. That’s pretty tough love. Both of his eyes are blackened.” Ben leaned over her shoulder. “It’s not a very good photograph. I think his right eye is just in shadow.” “Reasonable doubt,” Cass said quickly. Ben gave her an odd look, so she kept her mouth shut for a while as the other jurors went over the testimony regarding the ring. An hour and a half later, Ben had run his hands through his thick, dark hair so many times that it stood on end. He needed a haircut, Cass thought fondly. However, she loved running her hands through his thick locks just as they were. She hoped to have the opportunity again. Watching him, she was reminded of his words of love from the previous night. Had he meant them? What would he think of her after today? “What about Paris?” Ben said. “Why would Joey say what he did to Paris?” “Because he knew Brenda had coke on her and thought this might be a way to keep her out of trouble?” Jeff suggested. “So is she a dealer? Like maybe she was Oscar’s supplier?” Heidi asked.

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“No one ever testified about how much she had on her,” Shawn said with a yawn. “There’s some crappy lawyers on this trial,” Martin said. “No kidding,” Shawn said. “Do you think that chick lawyer is involved with Detective Placer?” “I wondered that too,” Drew said. “Maybe we shouldn’t trust his testimony.” “More like we shouldn’t trust testimony that disagreed with his,” Heidi said. “If she’s warm for his form she wouldn’t want to make him look stupid.” Art threw his steno pad against the wall and strode into the bathroom. The other jurors were shocked into motionlessness. “Let’s take five,” Ben suggested, rubbing his jaw. Cass wanted to rub his shoulders, to do something to erase the lines of exhaustion around his eyes, but she stayed in her seat while the others roamed the room, stretching and getting coffee. “Okay,” Cass said, when they were all back around the table. Art’s face was red and his eyes were slitted, but at least he was sitting. “Why didn’t Brenda give any testimony about the ring?” “For all we know Oscar was just trying it on to see what it looked like. You know, how people do. They ask to see a ring, then try it on,” Heidi said. “Does that mean you’ve changed your vote?” Ben asked, rubbing his left temple with his hand. “I guess,” Heidi said, before hunching over her notebook. “So where are we at?” Martin asked. “It’s almost three-thirty. They said we’d be released by four-thirty.” Ben called another vote, this time just on the robbery. Art’s voice became increasingly harsh as he read off the votes. Ben rested his head on his hands. “Okay, that’s three guilty votes. Show of hands on that?” Ben, Art and the chemical business retiree, whose name was Philippe, raised their hands. They spent another hour on the increasingly frustrating conversation before the bailiff knocked on the door, marking the end of their day. The jurors followed her out, some still talking about the case. “We’ve got to be able to compromise on this somehow,” Martin muttered behind Cass. Heidi, who walked next to him, said, “Can we please not talk about it anymore? I’ve got a splitting headache.” “I think we’re all a little tired,” Reginald said, bestowing his smile on her. Cass, on the other hand, was busy counting votes. Were eight people still voting guilty on the kidnapping charge? She had a lot of work there. If she were Ben, she’d drop the robbery conversation and move on.

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When they got to the parking lot, Cass headed right for her car, hoping to get home and lie down for an hour before fixing Grandma’s dinner, but Ben stayed with her and put his hand on her car door. “What is going on with you?” he demanded, bending over her. His eyes glittered, his expression far from loving. Cass was disappointed. She had hoped he wouldn’t take their opposition personally, but he didn’t know her circumstances, her fear. “I don’t want to talk,” Cass said. “I’m worn out. I thought I’d rest for a little while. You can come over if you want, I don’t think Grandma will care.” “No,” Ben said, closing his hand on her arm. Cass jerked back, but he didn’t release her. She stared full into his face and saw his tight, drawn mouth. But this anger didn’t scare her, somehow. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping back, just wary enough to create as much distance between them as she could, considering his grip on her arm. “You were so sure Nesell was guilty. What’s changed, Cass? What’s up with you?” “I’ve been talking about this all day,” Cass moaned. “Can’t we just let it drop for right now? Aren’t you tired? Let’s go home and hold each other for awhile.” “I don’t want to hold you right now.” He dropped her arm. “What’s going on? After all you’ve been through with Doug, how can you just let Nesell go free? How can you do that to Brenda?” Cass felt tears well up behind her eyes. “You don’t know anything about it,” she whispered. “Sure I do,” Ben said. He leaned against the door of her car, looking exhausted. “I’ve been sitting in that courtroom right along with you. You told me your story in some detail. Cass, sweetheart,” he looked in her eyes, “I believe every word you said. Why don’t you believe them?” “I know that Placer and Joey are in this with Nesell somehow. There’s something rotten going on.” “Okay, so maybe there’s more to the Joey story. And yes, Ryan is dead and maybe, somehow her death is connected to the trial. But Brenda? Surely she’s an innocent who deserves justice?” “With a pocket full of cocaine?” Cass felt like she was beginning to believe her own version of events, Doug’s version of events. She was amazed by the twisted words rolling off her tongue. Maybe there was just enough real doubt in her heart to fuel her. But mostly, it was fear. Fear for Georgia, fear for Grandma, who had been alone all day. She would have worried about that even without the Doug factor. “I know.” Ben rubbed his hands through his already wild hair until it stood on end, like it had been ravaged by a woman’s hands in the throes of passion. The image was shockingly sexual. Cass stared at him and wished she could pounce, just push him back

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and tear off his clothes and drown herself in his body. In a parking garage? With Doug probably nearby somewhere? Ridiculous. She smelled exhaust fumes as Reginald’s car went past and realized they were far from alone. “Still,” Ben said, without knowledge of the secret sexual frenzy he was creating in her, “Oscar Nesell inflicted extreme mental distress on Brenda. That makes him guilty of kidnapping.” “Let’s not talk about it anymore.” Cass stepped toward him. Their feet were only an inch apart. She reached out a hand to his face. “I want—” Ben reached out swiftly, catching her hand before it could reach his cheek. “Don’t, Cass. I’m not in the mood.” “Then what are you doing here?” she snapped, embarrassed by his lack of reciprocation. “I didn’t ask you to walk me to my car. We’re lovers, not lawyers.” “Damn it, Cass, you’re not taking this seriously.” “I’m not?” she shrieked. “I’m taking this far more seriously, far more personally, than you know! I’ve been there! But without a drug dealer boyfriend. She shouldn’t have stayed with him!” “She’s seventeen, pregnant.” All her frustration, her past, bubbled out of her. “With or without Nesell going to prison, Brenda will be fine! She’s going to have her baby and live happily ever after!” Cass, feeling numb and venomous, leaned on her car next to Ben. Seconds ticked by. She couldn’t think of anything to say. She smelled his cologne, his personal scent and wanted nothing more than to rest her head on his shoulder. He must have sensed this, because he put his arm around her. Both silent, calmer now, she leaned her head against him and closed her eyes. “What’s going on, Cass?” Ben asked finally. “Are you jealous of her?” Why can’t you stop pushing, Cass thought with bitterness. Why can’t you just let me be? “Sure, I’m jealous. Why not?” “What’s really going on? I can’t believe you’ve lost your sympathy for her. Have you learned something new?” “I can’t tell you,” Cass said, in a voice that drifted only slightly above tears. “What happened?” Ben asked, a new tenderness in his voice, like she was a scared child. “Did you overhear another conversation, or see something that scared you?” “I saw Doug,” she said, too tired for caution. She had to trust him. She was so tired and the adrenalin was all gone now. She wasn’t going to win him over without the truth. “He said he’d hurt Grandma and Georgia if Nesell was convicted.” She heard Ben’s sharp intake of breath. Using the arm he had around her, he tilted her head until her face was right underneath his. “When did this happen?” “At home. He broke in yesterday, then left before you came,” Cass said.

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“Oh hell,” Ben said. “He’s out there doing God only knows what and we’re sitting around a table chatting like civilized people.” “Exactly.” “Have you warned Georgia? Called the police?” “Yes. I called her. You know I can’t call the police, Ben. What if Placer found out? Grandma is my real worry.” “We’ve got to get her out of your house. He might come back. Once we do that, then we’ll discuss our options, okay?” “We? It’s my problem.” Cass was now afraid that he’d go to the police, or to the judge, behind her back. Could she trust him to do the right thing for her family? “No, it isn’t. I care so much about you, Cass, this can’t possibly be just about you.” Cass pressed her lips together, trying to contain the shaking she felt inside. She felt his breath against her temple. Tilting her head just a bit farther, she met his lips with her own, clung to the taste and scent of him as he kissed her. For a long moment, they stayed locked in the awkward embrace. She wanted him to stay in her life so badly. At least she could trust him enough to get her grandmother into safekeeping. But where could they take her? “Cass, we’ve got to be realistic. We both know Nesell is guilty, even if what happened is Joey’s fault. We aren’t going to be able to get Nesell off.” “You don’t know that,” Cass said, setting her chin stubbornly. “I know. Even if I change my vote on the robbery, Art isn’t going to. And I don’t think we’re going to get a clear mandate on the kidnapping either.” “You can’t know that. People will get tired and change their vote to end this quicker.” Cass knew she put far too much hope on this possibility. “Some justice,” Ben commented, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “I need to think about this.” “It’s human nature to cave into the strongest opinion when you’re tired.” Cass closed her eyes. “I know, but how long do you want to sit in deliberations? How long until Doug gets bored and decides to do something to move things along?” “I don’t know, but you’re right about Grandma. She shouldn’t stay at the house alone for one minute longer, though she’ll resist. She says she’ll die if she has to leave for good.” Cass fumbled in her pocket for her keys. “We’ll reason with her,” Ben said, releasing her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll follow you. Don’t go in the house until I’m with you.” “Thanks, Ben,” Cass said, smiling at him as she always did. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Now if only she could make sure he’d keep doing the right thing.

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Chapter Thirteen Ben followed her home in his truck, saying he didn’t have any meetings that night. Cass tried to smile at him as she put the key in her front door. He touched her cheek and self-conscious, she pushed her hair out of her face. From the way Ben’s eyes followed her, she knew he was in an amorous mood, but she couldn’t risk being close to him any more right now. She needed to think. She needed his help. And what if Doug was lurking around here somewhere? She hadn’t seen him in the courtroom, could only hope Joey or someone else mixed up in this had given him a reward and he was holed up somewhere stoned out of his mind. Meanwhile, she had very immediate problems—there was no point buying any more fear. “I know Grandma’s got to be warned, but what should I say? Where’s she going to go?” She knew the warning wouldn’t do much good. For whatever reason, Grandma liked Doug. “Is Georgia the only family you can count on?” Ben asked, playfully putting his arm around her waist. Cass pushed the door open and moved away from him. “No, my brother and sisterin-law stay involved. But there’s no room in their house; it’s tiny and they have kids.” They stepped into the entry hall. It was cooler here than outside, the windows covered by blinds. Their feet made the floorboards of the old house creak as they walked across them. Ben reached for her hand, then stopped as they heard the sounds of another person. Cass’ heart skipped a beat. “Hello?” said a voice cracked by age. Cass took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Hi Grandma, how are you?” She did her best to sound perky and upbeat as she stepped into the living room. “Georgia, is that you?” “No, it’s Cass.” She walked to her grandmother, who was seated in a high-backed, blue velvet chair facing away from her. “Oh, hello, dear,” Grandma said in a pleased voice. Her cane was hooked over the armrest and she had a soap opera magazine in her arthritis-gnarled hands. “Is your jury duty over? It’s been a trial being alone so much.” Cass sat across from her on a mauve loveseat, wondering if Grandma had intended her pun. She looked a little pale and hadn’t put any lipstick on today. Ben had stayed at the edge of the room and she gestured him over. Grandma would enjoy meeting a handsome man. “We’re in deliberations now.” “I hope they’re treating you well. Don’t they know you have responsibilities at home?” 129

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And right now those responsibilities conflicted. “Grandma, this is my friend, Ben,” Cass said, holding her hand to him. Ben smiled and held out his hand to the old woman. “My, don’t you have working man’s hands,” Grandma said, taking his hand and examining it. “My late husband had hands like that. He was a plumber, you know.” “I didn’t know that, ma’am,” Ben said. He might have been blushing as he took his hand back. “I’m in construction, myself.” “That’s a nice business,” Grandma said. “Though I think there are too many buildings in Seattle already.” Ben grinned and sat next to Cass. Not too close, she noticed. He was being a gentleman. “You may have a point there.” “The traffic is just terrible,” Grandma said in her cracked voice. “Why, I had to stop driving after a little fender-bender down the street. So many cars and the teenagers on the street don’t know how to park. They were so far out in the street that anyone might have hit them.” “There wasn’t just one fender-bender, Grandma.” Cass interrupted the beginning of a familiar tirade. “You had three.” “Oh, pish posh,” she said, waving a hand. “I don’t mind not driving, as long as you are here.” Cass saw this as a pathway to the conversation she needed to have. “That’s the problem, Grandma. Until the trial is done, I’m not here nearly as much as I usually am.” “I’ve been fine so far, dear. Andrea comes by.” But she couldn’t stay and there were the kids to think of. Cass didn’t want them to see Doug. Or worse, what if whomever Doug was involved with sent other people to threaten, even hurt them? People they wouldn’t recognize until it was too late? “I’m worried, Grandma. Andrea can’t come tomorrow, or the next day. She’s going to be too busy with the flower shop and taking Caleb to practice.” “Georgia?” the old woman quavered. Cass shook her head. “She has to work. I’m a little worried,” she said, glancing at Ben. He nodded at her. “We might be in danger.” “From who?” “From bad people like Doug.” Grandma tsked. “Doug isn’t bad.” “Maybe his soul isn’t bad, Grandma, but the drugs make him act bad.” “Ooooh,” Grandma moaned, instead of arguing with her. “What’s wrong?” Cass asked quickly, shooting up from the loveseat. She knelt in front of the old woman and put her hand gently on her knee. Grandma bent over. “It’s my back. I think my disks are acting funny again.” “Maybe we should take you to the emergency room,” Ben suggested. 130

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Cass opened her mouth, knowing she could get one of Grandma’s pain pills from the cabinet, but maybe Ben was right. “Maybe the doctor should take a look at you.” “My pain pills help,” Grandma suggested. “Only sometimes, Grandma, remember? You asked the doctor for a different prescription only last week.” “This will show him,” Grandma said with satisfaction, as if already forgetting she hadn’t taken the pills. “Did you take a pain pill today?” Ben asked. Her brow creased. “I took one right before Oprah, I think. My back hurt earlier.” Cass closed her eyes. She needed to lock up Grandma’s meds. But she couldn’t be here every minute to monitor and Grandma took pills five times a day as it was. “Let’s get you to the hospital,” Cass said. “I’ll get your coat.” She stood. Ben smiled sympathetically at her as she blinked, not wanting to cry. In a way, this was a good thing. If they could get Grandma admitted then she would be safe while the trial finished but she hated seeing her grandmother like this. How much time did they have left? Cass vowed to protect her and care for her as long as she could.

***** Thursday “Another day, another disaster,” Art muttered as they filed into the jury room. “Maybe we’ll finish today,” Cass suggested, feeling better than she had the last couple of days with the knowledge that Grandma was safe in the hospital. Unfortunately, the doctor had told her they might want to consider a pacemaker and were going to run tests. “You’re our biggest problem!” Art exclaimed. “We aren’t finishing today unless your idiotic liberalism carries the day.” And Ben’s, she hoped. They hadn’t had another chance to talk about it, but she was sure he’d see her point of view and vote to acquit. She knew he wasn’t convinced that letting Nesell go free was the right thing to do, but her family’s safety was more important, wasn’t it? “Enough,” Ben said in a loud, terse voice, without looking at Cass. “Everyone has a right to their own opinion.” “What’s yours, pretty boy?” Art sneered. “Did you change your vote overnight? Did pillow talk persuade you to set poor Oscar Nesell free?” “For shame,” Reginald said in a mild voice. “Art, what’s gotten into you? Trouble at home?”

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Art stared at him, then his angry expression melted into embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said to Ben. “My mother is having surgery next week and I’d like to be with her. If we don’t finish today, we’ll be back here on Monday.” “We can deliberate tomorrow,” Duc said, leaning forward as if he was enjoying himself. “But I doubt the court will hear the verdict until Monday,” Heidi grimaced. “Art is right. Let’s speed this thing up.” “We need to get started now,” Ben said. “It’s time to be forceful with our opinions. But be kind to others, please.” “We aren’t kids,” Shawn muttered. “Right, so let’s act like adults. We’ll begin with another vote.” Used to the routine now, no one complained as they tore strips of paper from their steno pads, considered and wrote down their current vote, then tossed the results to Art. His face screwed up as he read the results. “No change. Three for burglary, eight for kidnapping.” “I don’t care about any charge in particular,” Philippe stood and paced the room. “Negotiation is fine. But I insist we get this guy for something.” “I agree,” Shawn said. “No way is anyone going to get me to change my vote on the kidnapping charge.” Cass glanced at Ben. He looked her straight in the eye, but didn’t smile. Why hadn’t he changed his vote yet? Why wasn’t he speaking up? Ryan had been murdered. The Bellairs could be next. These people were too determined not to let go if Nesell was convicted for anything. Did Ben really think he could keep her safe? What had happened to those options he said he’d discuss with her, before they got caught up in admitting Grandma to the hospital? Her head drooped and she stared at her hands as argument swirled above her. She never should have gone on jury duty, should have stayed home and taken care of Grandma. What happened to her desire, no, her need for a no-surprises kind of life? When had she started to crave something different? And crave she had—Ben’s touch, new friends, the excitement and even power that came with being a juror, while also being incredibly boring and even manipulated at times. This vacation from her life came with far too high a cost. Cass remembered her thrill-seeking youth—the parties, the careless sex that had led her to a teen pregnancy, her boyfriend’s abandonment, the anonymity of Yakima and Georgia’s apartment, the lost babies. Why hadn’t she spent her time since learning to keep herself and her family safe? She had always known Doug hadn’t been put away forever. For herself, were there any regrets for her actions during the past couple of weeks? No, she supposed not, even if Ben had betrayed her. She missed people. She missed having friends, lovers. In finding these again, she received strength and hope. No more

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hiding away in the back of the flower shop or at home so she could stay isolated. She needed to live again. First though, she needed to protect her family from Doug. Unfortunately, while being a juror gave you power over someone else’s life, it left you temporarily with little power over your own. Heated conversations flowed around her all that morning. She only interjected if people seemed to be moving toward convicting Nesell. Truthfully, there was plenty of reasonable doubt. Oscar Nesell was a bad guy, but why would the jurors think anyone who surrounded him was any better? Nesell did need to be put away, but for this? Just as she had justified her actions to herself, Cass remembered Brenda. Sure, lots of pregnant women didn’t take care of themselves or their unborn children, but Brenda had run away after the events of last November. Why would she have done that if she were comfortable with the life she had been living? Cass saw so much of the girl she had been in Brenda. Except for the cocaine. Why did she have it? Certainly, most of the group had no reasonable doubt over the kidnapping charge. Finally, at eleven-thirty, Ben said, “Let’s drop the anonymity here and generalize. Who is voting for not guilty on all charges?” The jurors all glanced at each other. Reginald, Jeff, Shawn and Cass all raised their hands. No change and once again Ben hadn’t tried to help her. What was he doing? Hadn’t their time together meant anything to him? “I just don’t see any movement,” Ben said. “Does anyone have a suggestion for compromise?” “If those of you who are voting guilty on the burglary change your vote, would the rest of us vote to convict on the kidnapping?” Reginald asked, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach. “This would match us to the majority opinion on both sides.” Ben polled each of the holdouts. Cass was grateful to see that Jeff also refused to compromise, but it was down to only two of them. “Damn it!” exclaimed Art as Shawn swore under his breath and Martin stood to pace the room. Shortly after, lunch was brought in. They kept talking over sandwiches and salads, to no avail. Finally, at three p.m., Ben stood. “Show of hands, people. Are we deadlocked?” Cass was surprised that all the jurors except her raised their hands. They hadn’t been sitting there all that long. But she supposed the case wasn’t complex, really. Confusing yes, but there wasn’t a lot to review. Now what would happen? Doug had said a mistrial wasn’t acceptable. Would a deadlock set Nesell free? Was this enough? She wished she knew more about the law. She also wondered what would happen if she told the other jurors about Doug’s threat. Probably, someone would report what had happened and then there would be a

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mistrial for sure. Even if she could get Doug arrested, someone else might come after her family. If she couldn’t persuade Ben to help her, no one else would. She felt lost. But giving in to her fears wouldn’t protect her family. She had to keep fighting and let the jurors hate her. “Can’t we talk about this?” she asked, then fell silent as Art glared at her. Before her exhaustion-addled brain could figure out something else to say, Ben picked up the phone on the wall behind him and called for the bailiff. Cass gripped the sides of her chair with her arms until her hands hurt. Why couldn’t he have voted with her? Why wouldn’t he keep them talking? When D’Shelle rapped on the door, Ben walked over and spoke to her in a low voice. Cass could see her frustrated expression as Ben conveyed their dilemma. But she nodded and left, presumably to speak to Judge Yu. “Ben, can I speak to you?” Cass asked. “Sure.” He stood and they stepped into the bathroom as Art called, “Don’t do it, buddy. She’s gonna get you too.” As the bathroom door shut behind them, Cass heard Reginald say, “Now Art, why do you have to go and say something like that? She’s a nice girl.” “I don’t trust her,” Art said. Little did he know. Cass turned to Ben, catching sight of her face in the mirror behind him. When had she stopped wearing makeup? When had her face become so pale? She had lost weight too. Her cheekbones had never been so prominent; her chin had never been so angular. She should have been glowing with the excitement of having a new lover, but he had betrayed her and her face showed the toll that had taken on her. “This isn’t going well,” she said, wishing she could figure out how to get him to see her point of view. Couldn’t he just vote with her? He knew the stakes. “I know, honey, but it’s not a good idea for us to have private conversations in the bathroom.” “Honey?” Cass repeated. “How can you call me that? Why can’t you see my position? Please, tell me you’re just waiting to change your vote at the last minute.” Ben’s mouth thinned. “I’m not changing my vote.” Cass put her hand on his chest. “How can you not? My family is in danger!” “I disagree.” He put his hand over hers and held it fast. “They’re safe for the moment, Grandma in the hospital and Georgia at work. Besides, I’ve got a plan.” “A plan?” Cass repeated, incredulous. “Yes. When the trial is over, we go straight to the police and get a restraining order against Doug. We don’t have to mention the trial. Just explain the past and say he’s been hanging around your house.”

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“That’s ridiculous,” Cass said, tugging her hand away. Did he really believe Doug was the only problem? What about the people he worked for? “Another thing. Doug’s got to be on parole, right? We can find out and make them do a blood test. If he’s using again, which I’m sure he is, then he’s broken parole. Maybe he’ll get sent back to jail.” Cass tried to formulate a response in her head, but she was so tired. “Ben,” she grabbed his hands and held them tightly. The warmth of his seeped into her own cold fingers. “Listen to me. They killed Ryan. We aren’t going to be able to act fast enough when the trial is over to protect my family. If Oscar Nesell is convicted, Doug, Joey and Ron Placer are going to be out there getting their revenge on me. I can’t believe Doug was the one who killed Ryan.” “Why not?” “It just doesn’t feel right. Even if it was him, he didn’t just decide to kill her on a whim. Someone told him to do it. That’s the person I’m really scared of.” A pounding on the bathroom door startled her. Ben released her hands and, stepping in front of her, opened the door. “The bailiff is here,” Martin said. “Thanks.” He turned back to Cass. “There’s still a chance to eke out some kind of justice in this,” he told her, then went to talk to D’Shelle. The door shut behind him before she could plead one last time for him to change his vote. Traitor. If anything happened to Georgia or Grandma, it would be Ben’s fault too. Cass blinked back tears and tried to think rationally, but she couldn’t. Her legs felt rooted to the white tile floor of the bathroom. She felt so powerless and small. The jury would hang and it would all be over. She wondered who would be first to be hurt or killed? Herself, probably. Dead at Doug’s hands, just in Kent instead of Yakima. A mere delay. Couldn’t she trust Ben at all? He said he’d take her to the police station and assuming they got to honest police officers, she might be safe for a while. Maybe she could leave her car at the courthouse and have Ben take her to Georgia afterward. But then what? She’d be putting Georgia in danger too. She heard a sharp rapping at the door. Her head spun and she moved to the door slowly, as if through water. “C’mon Cass,” Ben said. “We’re going back into the courtroom.” Cass walked into the hall and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed as the rest of the jurors shuffled out. When D’Shelle said they were ready, she opened her eyes but kept her head down as she led the jury into the courtroom. She wondered if it would have gone differently if she had pushed to be foreman. No one had really wanted the job anyway. But Art didn’t seem any more flexible than Ben. No, they’d probably still be deadlocked.

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From his bench, Judge Yu smiled sympathetically at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I understand that you feel you aren’t making much progress in there. I know you’re tired and you’ve been through a lot, but please keep in mind that you haven’t been deliberating for long.” Cass counted back. Had Doug really only threatened her two days ago? It seemed like forever. “Now, who is the foreman?” Cass swiveled her chair and saw Ben raise his hand. “Is it your judgment that further deliberations may be useful or do you feel you are hopelessly deadlocked?” “Eleven of us raised our hands when I asked that question, sir.” “Are you certain they won’t feel differently after a break?” Cass heard Reginald chuckle next to her. “Maybe,” Ben admitted. “I know the case is complex, but I’m happy to hear one of you doesn’t feel you are deadlocked.” Cass hunched in her seat as she felt the eyes of her fellow jurors bore into her. “How about this? Why don’t you have ten minutes of silence and then, I would like each of you to listen to each other’s viewpoint and attempt to reach a verdict. Can you do that?” Cass heard rustling as some jurors must have nodded, but she also heard Art’s hiss of disgust. “Good. I’d hate to have to declare a mistrial and put all of these folks through another trial, but that will be our second option here, folks.” There was her answer, Cass thought. Deadlocking was not an acceptable choice. She had to persuade the jury to vote not guilty. Judge Yu dismissed the jury and D’Shelle escorted them back across the hall so efficiently, that before Cass knew it, she was in her chair staring at Philippe. “So he doesn’t go free if the jury is hung?” Tom asked, opening an old magazine. “I never knew that.” “We don’t want to put Brenda through this experience again, do we?” Ben asked as he erased the white board. Reginald shook his head. “No, we don’t.” “Cass,” Ben said. “Do you remember a week or so back when we talked about what the sentencing might be?” Cass nodded. “Yes.” Back when she wanted Nesell put away. “Does anyone have any insight?” Everyone was silent for a moment until Martin, hesitantly, raised his hand to ear level. 136

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“Tell us,” Ben said. “My sister went through a custody dispute with her ex-husband. He took my nephew out of state at one point. Family member kidnappings are different, I remember, but kidnapping puts you in jail for about five years.” “What about kidnapping two?” Duc asked. “Isn’t that one of our options?” Ben pulled out the jury instructions. “Kidnapping in the second degree. There’s not much here, except to say it’s intentional abduction without the circumstances of kidnapping in the first degree.” “What are the circumstances of the first degree?” Heidi asked, leaning forward. Here we go again, Cass thought, feeling hopeless. You’re wasting your time, guys, I’m not going to vote to convict him. “Intentional abduction for ransom, hostage, facilitating felony or flight, inflict injury or mental distress, or government interference.” “I think we should go back over Brenda’s testimony,” Drew suggested. “Good idea,” Ben said. “After that ten-minute break.” Cass wondered if Ben were really as calm as he appeared. How could he look so assured? This wasn’t some contract bid for half a million dollars. People’s lives were at stake. She leaned toward the table and rested her head on her arms. “You okay?” Cass looked up and saw Ben’s face next to her own. She could see a spot under his jawline where his razor had missed. “I’ll be fine.” “Come here.” Ben gestured toward the bathroom. This time no one commented as they stepped behind the door. Ben put his arms around her. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. She stepped back. “How can you say that? You betrayed me.” “No.” He shook his head. “Don’t be like that. I was thinking…” Cass raised her eyes to his and felt her voice crack as she said, “What can you possibly say to make this right?” “What if the sentence for kidnapping two meant that Oscar Nesell would be released with time served?” Ben leaned against the sink, folding his arms across his chest. Cass thought he looked a little hurt, but did he really think she was going to touch him when he’d basically told her that her safety wasn’t important to him? She forced herself to calm, to think rationally. “He’s not going to walk out a free man,” Cass said. “Reginald told me that sentencing doesn’t happen until weeks later.”

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Ben sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t think we’re going to get any better than this, Cass. You really want a mistrial? As much as I want your family to be absolutely sure of their safety, I’m not in control here.” So now he was telling her he did care? She was so tired that she considered his suggestion. “You really think kidnapping two will get him out in a few weeks?” How was she going to find a way to present this to Doug? She couldn’t stop fighting, could she? But keeping the other jurors for another day would just make them, especially Art, angry. He’d be sure to never vote with her if he missed his mother’s surgery. They’d deadlock again and by then Grandma might be out of the hospital and vulnerable again. She didn’t have any time. “I’m sure it’s something like that,” Ben said. “And I promise you, as soon as we’re released, I’ll take you right to the police. I won’t leave you alone for a second until I know you’re safe.” “Why?” Cass said, fighting her last-ditch effort. “You might just end up getting killed too. Why you won’t help me sway the jury? It’s the easiest solution. The safest solution.” Ben shook his head and tightened his grip around her. His voice was hoarse as she spoke. “You know that isn’t true. Art isn’t going to change his mind. Any minute now, we could end up back in front of Judge Yu and get a mistrial declared. That would be worse.” Cass knew it would be. Nesell wouldn’t go through this again. “Listen to me,” Ben said in her ear. She could feel his hot breath tickling her earlobe. “I know it’s been less than two weeks since we met, but I can’t stand the idea of losing you. You’re so important to me, Cass. I know you’re angry and I’d do anything to change that, to know you felt the same.” “I do care,” Cass whispered, looking into his blue eyes. How could she walk away from him? “I care a lot. That’s why this is so painful. I can’t allow my family to be hurt.” “No one will be.” Ben’s eyes turned to icy steel. “I promise. I don’t have a family any more, they’re all gone, but I’m adopting yours as my own. Anyone who wants to hurt them will go through me first.” Cass swallowed. “You really mean that?” “I do.” His brow creased as he smiled at her. She had grown to love that face and she saw his sincerity. She nodded. “Then I’ll trust you.” Ben grinned. “You and me against the world?” She smiled back. “You betcha.” His lips swept down on hers with such intensity that it tore her breath away. She heard herself sob as she opened her mouth under his and clung to him with her arms tight around his neck as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. That and the feel

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of his soft lips, gentle and strong all at the same time. She lost track of time as they kissed. “I’m going to keep you safe,” Ben whispered against her hair. “We’ve got all the time in the world to be together.” Cass felt so full of love it would have been hard to breathe even if she hadn’t been kissing him. No one had ever opened himself to her the way he had. No one had ever made her feel so much inside. She couldn’t protect herself from him anymore, didn’t want to. He was the surprise in her no-surprises life that made her want to explore the world again. Too soon, banging on the outside door interrupted their kiss. Their ten minutes were up, but the smile Ben offered her as he stepped out promised more passion soon, more pledges. They all gathered around the table. Cass had wrestled with herself, but had made the decision to agree with Ben’s compromise. If she didn’t trust him they had no future. Of course, Jeff could choose not to go along with her, which would still deadlock the jury. But she was the stubborn one. Ben pressed his lips together. “Let’s take another vote, on Kidnapping One.” When Art finished counting the votes, he looked grim. “No change.” Ben nodded and glanced Cass’ way. She looked at him through her eyelashes and nodded slightly. “Okay, let’s vote on kidnapping two, keeping in mind that we don’t seem real sure that deadly force was used, which is a factor in our choice here.” Art counted the pieces of paper again, after they were turned into him. He almost smiled. “Getting close. Eleven votes for guilty on kidnapping two.” “Who changed their mind?” Heidi asked. “Jeff?” He shook his head, looking a little sheepish. Cass realized he must be the youngest person in the room now that Ryan was dead. She hoped the rest of the jury was safe, despite her decision to trust Ben. Raising her hand, she said, “I did.” “Why?” Reginald asked gently. “I’ve been thinking,” Cass said slowly, trying to make it sound like her decision was based on the evidence. “Brenda clearly left not under her own will and she left with Nesell. Whether or not Joey had a hand in it isn’t our problem. We know from her own testimony she was frightened. I wouldn’t call it extreme fear, like in Kidnapping One, but, well, I wouldn’t leave my boyfriend bleeding and alone if I didn’t have to.” Jeff swallowed. “Fine. I’ll change my vote too.” “Are you sure?” Ben asked. “You have to be sure.” Jeff bent his head and flipped through his notes. “I was so frightened,” he read. “Brenda said that, back at the beginning. That’s enough, isn’t it?” He looked at Ben. Ben nodded somberly. “Oscar Nesell inflicted mental distress on her.”

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“Now what,” Art asked. “Are we out of here?” Cass glanced at Ben, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. But when he smiled at her, a little of the heaviness lifted. She wasn’t alone in this and they would find a way to protect her family. “I’ll call the bailiff,” Ben said and stood up.

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Chapter Fourteen The trial ended quickly. Judge Yu polled the jury. They all agreed on the verdict. Cass didn’t see any emotion on Nesell’s face as it was read. The judge told them it would be several weeks before the sentencing phase. Cass had been afraid Nesell wouldn’t be released immediately; but what was done was done. No doubt, as soon as the jury exited Nesell had been taken back to jail. Ben held her hand as they walked down the hall behind D’Shelle. “Placer was in the courtroom,” she said. He was nearly always there, but he hadn’t stared at her before. She had seen the message in his eyes; she had done a bad thing. “Doug wasn’t,” he countered. “Like that matters.” At least at this hour Georgia was at work and Grandma was safe in the hospital. And she herself was with Ben. Heidi broke in. “Do you think the lawyers will really want to talk to us like the judge said?” “We’re about to find out,” Ben told her. Cass’ heart skittered as they stepped out into the main hallway on the fourth floor. Mary Diamond waited for them alongside the railing alone. Cass realized that she’d half expected someone to be there waiting with a gun. Placer, maybe, or Joey. “Thank you for serving,” the prosecutor said as the jury reached her. “Who was the foreman?” “I was,” Ben said. “We can only stay a minute. Cass’ grandmother had to be taken to the hospital last night and we’re on our way there.” Mary Diamond nodded. “That’s too bad. We’ll just be a minute. I always try to guess who the foreman will be and I guessed right this time. Do you have any questions?” “Why did you call Joey back onto the stand the second time?” Heidi asked. “It weakened your case.” She grimaced. “At the time, I was persuaded it was a good idea. I can’t imagine what was going on in that kid’s head.” “I had the impression he regretted the trial,” Reginald said. “Detective Placer told our office the case was a mess,” she said, “but we thought we could prosecute successfully. At least we got a conviction, however minor. What could we have done to make our case stronger?” Cass glanced at Ben. He’d been about to say something, but at her look he closed his mouth. After all, what would have made it better was no jury tampering and her

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family was still in danger. She ached to get out of there, while simultaneously worried about leaving the safety of the courthouse. The fact that Placer had meddled in the case from the beginning made her realize how inevitable disaster had been. The trial had been doomed from the start. How quickly would the revenge begin? “Better gun testimony,” Heidi said. “You lost us there.” The prosecutor nodded. “What else?” “Witnesses,” Heidi said. “More information about what Brenda went through.” Mary Diamond sighed. “It cost us Kidnapping One, I can see that now.” “Do you have a relationship with Detective Placer?” Cass asked, wanting to gauge the extent of the prosecutor’s involvement with the corrupt cop. The prosecutor swallowed. “He’s a colleague.” Cass could tell from her expression that it was more than that, but maybe not too much more. “Do you trust him?” Ben tugged at Cass’ arm. She ignored him. “Why do you ask?” Mary Diamond demanded. “Your case didn’t go too well and he was whispering in your ear every step of the way. Think about what went wrong.” “You can’t blame anything on him,” the prosecutor said, folding her arms across her chest. “Someone died on this jury,” Cass said, not ready to let go yet. “You need to think about why.” “That had nothing to do with this case.” “From what I hear, the murder weapon was supposed to be safe in a police evidence locker,” Cass shot back. “Maybe you should think about who had access to it.” Ben grabbed Cass’ arm and pulled her away. He marched her across the marble floor. She wrenched her arm away before they reached the steps. “What are you trying to do?” he asked. “Save her,” Cass said, turning to face him. She rubbed her arm, wondering if she’d have a bruise. “Don’t treat me like a child.” Ben blinked. “Sorry, but geez, Cass. The walls have ears around here. I’m trying to protect you—don’t buy more trouble than you already have.” Cass stared at him, forcing herself to realize this wasn’t one of the men who’d hurt and betrayed her, but Ben. A supporter, a friend, her lover. “I hear you, but she needs to know what she’s gotten herself into.” “She’s not stupid. Maybe she’s a part of this.” “Who’s paranoid now? No way is she a part of this or she never would have prosecuted Nesell.” “Just consider your own self interest before you try to help anyone else, okay?” He stroked her cheek. 142

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She let out a breath. “I’m trying, Ben. I really am.” “Okay then. I think our first order of business is to check on your grandmother. We can call your sister at work on the way.” Cass nodded. They hurried down the steps after waving goodbye to their fellow jurors. She had already exchanged numbers with Reginald so they would stay in touch even though they were skipping the CoffeeHaus trip the others were making together now the trial was over. When they reached the breezeway, Cass pulled out her cell phone to call Georgia, yawning. Ben smiled at her sympathetically. “I’m going to grab a couple cups of coffee from the latte stand, okay? I’ll still be able to see you from there.” Ben turned back to the door. The stand was only a couple of feet inside. Cass nodded and turned away as her call connected. She asked for her sister. The reception was poor, so she continued walking across the covered breezeway toward the parking lot and the Detention Center. As she waited for the receptionist to put her through, she stared at the telephone and newspaper dispensers next to the visitor door, wondering if Nesell was back inside yet and what would be the next step for him. How long would the sentence be? Would he be released in a month for time served? Would he come after her? Probably not. Whatever vengeance he planned was likely to be immediate. “Georgia Bellair.” Her sister’s voice, calm and professional, came on the line. “Hi, sis.” “Cass! Are you finished? What happened?” Cass sighed. “Kidnapping Two. He’ll be in jail at least another month, until sentencing begins. Are you working late tonight?” She wanted to know where her sister was every second. Placer was out there somewhere and she couldn’t let him get to her relatives. They wouldn’t know he was evil. “Until ten.” Georgia’s voice lowered. “What about Doug? Did you see him around?” “Not today,” Cass said. “But I’m sure he’ll reappear some time soon.” “I hate to say it, but I hope he’s found a fix somewhere and will stay away from you. I hate knowing how scared you’ve been. I feel so guilty.” “Don’t, Georgia. It’s not your fault.” Her sister didn’t need to know how big a mess Doug had made for himself this time. “Of course it is. But you’re going to be safe now, I can feel it. Pick up some clothes at home and come stay with me, okay? Grandma will be in the hospital and my building has security.”

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“Okay,” Cass said. “It will be nice to spend some time together. I’ve hardly seen you in two weeks.” “I’m glad that trial is over. Just stay out of Kent from now on and hopefully Doug will forget us.” Georgia paused. “I hate to say this, but maybe Grandma could go to an assisted living facility? Then we could sell the house and Doug wouldn’t know where to find us.” “It might be time, even if I get a restraining order,” Cass agreed reluctantly. “I can’t be there every minute. Grandma’s income doesn’t stretch to supporting me too.” “Talk it over with her doctor. Better yet, let’s talk to the doctor together. She won’t like it, but I think if the doctor suggests it she’ll agree.” “Maybe,” Cass sighed. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you Cass, think of yourself too.” “So do you.” The line was silent for a long moment. “I feel like I sold my life down the river a long time ago.” “Never believe that,” Cass said. “You can find happiness. You’ll get your daughter back too. I know it.” She looked out at the lawn, with its silver gray metal sculptures, such an immediate contrast to the dingy Detention Center and the nearby twenty-two steps leading to the dark garage where her car waited. Why was Ben taking so long? Cass heard footfalls behind her. She looked ahead and realized how far she had walked from the courthouse door, away from Ben. She turned, expecting him and quickly said goodbye to Georgia as she reached out a hand for her coffee. “What makes you think you deserve happiness, bitch?” Doug leered at her. His fetid breath made her choke. Her heart pounding, she tried to angle around him, back toward Ben, but couldn’t get past him. Thank God he didn’t appear to have any weapons. “Even you deserve happiness, Doug,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, like she would with a child in distress. “Why don’t you go look for it?” “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grabbed her chin. His hand was oily, with blackened fingernails. Cass tried to breathe through her mouth so the smell wouldn’t make her sick. She took a step back, but hit a newspaper dispenser. Her back felt cold as she was forced against it, a sharp contrast to the heat of the spring day. “I did my best,” she said, wincing. “Your friend will probably be released in a month.” “You think that’s good enough?” “I did my best,” Cass repeated, fighting to hold back the tears that fear always cost her. “That’s all anyone can do.” “I needed him released,” Doug said. Something was wrong with his eyes. They were unfocused, cloudy. His hands were shaking as they held her.

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“Why?” she asked, trying to look around him for Ben. “Can’t we fix this some other way?” Doug rang a finger down her cheek in a grotesque parody of a lover’s caress. He was so close she could see the red veins in his crazed eyes, the mucus trapped in his nose hairs, the crust at the edges of his pale lips. “Are they paying you in drugs?” she asked. She slid to the left along the newspaper dispenser, an inch at a time. “There’s a branch of my bank down the street. I’ve got twelve hundred dollars in there. You can have it. You just have to leave us alone.” “We already had a bargain.” His finger reached her ear. He grabbed it, hard, twisting. Cass shuddered as the nerves moved pain into her right temple, cried out. She brought up a hand, hitting at his in involuntary response. He let go unexpectedly, swearing. She looked at her hand, surprised that it had worked, then saw the cell phone she still held. If only she could call 9-1-1. Where were all the people who worked there? Had they left for the day already? “Stop cheating,” he snarled. “You bitch. You always cheat. I can’t trust you!” He came at her again, grabbing her shirt. The sleeve tore and she edged away from him, but now was against the side of the concrete steps leading to the lower level of the parking garage. If he pushed her, she would fall. She raised her arm, trying to hit him with the cell phone, but had little leverage since she was too scared of falling to move much. Ducking, she tried to head-butt Doug, but he hit her in the ears. All sound gone except a ringing noise, she threw her cell phone at him. It bounced against his shoulder and clattered uselessly to the cement. As he raised an arm against her, she cringed back and felt only air. She flailed her arm and caught her elbow through a railing, then crouched at the top of the cement stairs, trying to make herself small, wrapping her other arm around her head. She expected more blows, more pain, but there was nothing. She heard a rush of feet as her hearing returned and saw Ben slamming two coffee cups against Doug’s face. Doug kicked out, catching Ben’s leg. He moved back a step to avoid the kick, then rushed her blinded ex-brother-in-law. Doug screamed as Ben punched him, then whirled around as if to run. But Doug had been too close to her. He tripped over Cass’ leg and fell sideways down the stairs. Cass reached out a hand to catch him even as he fell, but she was too late. The thuds sickened her. She looked up to hear voices and running feet. “Oh my God, I saw the whole thing!” a woman with a juror badge exclaimed. A female police officer was close behind. “It was an accident,” Cass gasped as she stood. The world tilted and Ben grabbed at her. “I tried to stop him.”

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“I saw him hit you,” the officer said. “Then the other man rushed him faster than I could. He was closer.” Cass looked down, expecting to see Doug gone, run away, escaped. But he was crumpled, a broken-looking heap lying motionless at the bottom of the steps. The officer spoke into her microphone, calling for an ambulance, for backup. The next few hours were a blur Cass couldn’t escape from, the consequences of a death she hadn’t expected. Except Placer was still out there and Joey too. She didn’t think Joey was a threat, but the police officer had to be. He had to have been the one to steal the gun that killed Ryan. He had probably even shot her. Hours later, they were back from the police station, battered and exhausted, at the courthouse parking garage. Cass had told the police about the purse-snatching and what she had heard in the courthouse, about her theory that Placer and Joey were working with Doug to free Nesell, about Ryan’s death and the gun that had killed her. They hadn’t taken her very seriously, suggested she was still suffering post-traumatic stress disorder from Yakima, exacerbated by Doug’s return. They told her she didn’t have to make things worse than they had been and she could rebuild now that Doug was dead. A police officer dropped them back at Cass’ car. Ben’s was still at Grandma’s house. The garage was empty of people and most cars were gone as well. “Is it too late to go to the hospital?” Ben asked. “We have to,” Cass said wearily. “At least we know nothing has happened to Grandma. The hospital would have called my cell phone.” “I can’t believe it survived your throwing it at Doug,” Ben said. He took a step toward her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Cass rested her head on his shoulder and he dropped his head to hers. She smelled his cologne and hard-earned sweat and wished this day could be over for both of them, that they could go to his house and shower in each other’s arms and fall into bed, even though they were too tired to do anything more than sleep wrapped around each other. That would be enough. “Thank God there were eyewitnesses,” she said against his shoulder. “The officer who interviewed me said he didn’t think the DA would press charges against me for attacking Doug,” Ben said. “I think the saga of Doug Frye is over.” “If not the saga of Oscar Nesell,” Cass agreed. “Do you really think Placer and Joey Quinn are a threat?” “Placer must have killed Ryan.” “Why are you so sure?” “Doug wasn’t capable of it,” Cass said. “He never could have gotten close enough to her in broad daylight without being noticed. Only a cop could have.”

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“Fair enough.” Ben released her, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair back. “Are you ready to go to the hospital?” “As ready as I’m likely to get.” She pulled out her car keys. Ben held out his hand. “Want me to drive?” She smiled. “Sure. Thanks.” He opened the passenger door first, then shut it after she got in. She leaned against the seat back and closed her eyes, listening to the comforting noises of the door opening and Ben settling in, the exclamation as he tried to fit into a seat that was too far forward for his body, the rearranging of the mirrors, the key in the starter, the engine. He closed the car door and she turned her face toward his. To her surprise, he was smiling over at her and leaned in to steal a kiss. “What was that for?” she asked. “You’ve got guts, Cass,” Ben said. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You bring out the most protective instincts in me and yet, I have no doubt you can take care of yourself.” “I don’t know why you think that,” she said. “You survived Doug Frye.” His eyes were serious. “I never really understood what you had been through until today.” He gathered her hands in his. “I can’t imagine what kind of courage it must have taken to put your life back together after you lost your baby. You’re amazing.” Cass looked down at their hands. She felt the tears in her eyes as she said, “As much as I love compliments, I can’t revel in them now. Let’s get to the hospital.” He nodded. “Thanks, Ben. You’re a good man to have around.” She saw the corners of his lips quirk as he reversed the car.

***** At the hospital, they hurried down the white tiled floor to Grandma’s room. Cass tried to swallow the worry that threatened to take over again. They had lost hours in which Nesell could have strategized his revenge. When they reached the door of Grandma’s private room, it was closed. Heart in her throat, Cass pushed open the door and held back her cry of anguish. They were sitting there. Just sitting. Cass pushed Ben sharply to the right, hoping their enemies hadn’t seen him, hoping he’d think to call the police. The honest ones. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Detective Placer nodded to her. “Hello, Cass. Glad you could join us.”

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Cass pressed her lips together before speaking slowly, deliberately, hoping to give Ben time. “I’ve been trying to explain Doug Frye’s death to your fellow officers. They finally sent me home.” Joey raised an eyebrow as Grandma exclaimed. “Oh no! Doug has passed on? What happened, dear?” Cass rushed to her grandmother’s side, the side of the bed Joey and Placer weren’t on. She took the frail fingers in her own. “He fell down a flight of steps, Grandma.” “Oh dear. I hope the poor boy didn’t suffer.” Cass wanted to say she hoped he did, but kept that uncharitable thought to herself. She was tired, she wanted peace. “It was over quickly.” “Whatever happened?” Grandma tried to sit up in the bed, but sank weakly. Cass glanced at the two men suspiciously. Had they given her something to make her worse? They didn’t seem to react in any way that would indicate so. “He fell at the courthouse. He lost his balance.” “He must have been high.” Cass turned to see Joey’s sly grin. “You son of a bitch,” she said, feeling the revulsion in her voice. “You were his supplier, weren’t you?” “His employer,” Placer said, tilting his head toward the boy. “Was there a difference?” “I can’t believe you’d have any sympathy for him, after what he did to you,” Joey observed coolly. “What do you want? How did you find Grandma?” Placer smirked. “A little birdie at the courthouse told me.” Mary Diamond, Cass thought. Her opinion of the woman dropped a few more notches. Let’s focus on the matter at hand,” Joey said in a brusque voice. “You made a deal. You didn’t keep it.” “You can’t be serious,” Cass said. What could she say? “I did my best. Nesell will be out soon. Leave us alone.” “You think your life is worth more than mine?” “It’s too late already,” Cass told him. “If I failed, then it’s over. It’s too late.” “Not for revenge,” Placer said. “I should have killed you instead of that other girl. But they told me we had more on you than her. Still, she had a mouth on her. Maybe she’d have been more persuasive. Even though you were sleeping with the foreman you couldn’t pull it off.” Cass felt herself shrinking back at the insult, but looked at Grandma and knew she had to stand her ground. She had proven her strength, to herself and the people she cared about.

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“What can you possibly do to us that won’t get you in trouble?” she asked. “The police know we’re here. I told them what I thought about Ryan’s death. They’ll be here soon, if they aren’t already.” Placer chuckled. “That only works in movies. You ever heard of euthanasia? Sometimes family members can’t stand to see their elderly, sick relatives suffer. Let me tell you, the government doesn’t like people who take life and death into their own hands. When the doctor comes in and finds your grandmother dead and you standing here, he’s going to know what happened. At least after the autopsy.” Joey took a syringe out of his pocket. “A heroin overdose is pleasant and painless. She won’t feel a thing.” Cass looked wildly around the room for a weapon, for anything. The only thing she saw was a pile of paperbacks by the bed. Wait. On the floor, almost hidden, was Grandma’s portable oxygen bag. Joey looked at Grandma, as if considering where to stick the syringe. Placer glanced over to him. At that moment, as the attention was off her, Cass grabbed the handle of the heavy bag and heaved it in a circular motion over the hospital bed and right into Joey. With a crash, he fell back onto the IV pole. Grandma screamed as the needle was pulled from her arm. Placer bent over, scrambling with Joey for the syringe. The door slammed open and Ben rushed in with a security guard. Cass screamed, “He’s got a syringe!” as Ben pulled Placer off of Joey. “I’m a police officer!” Placer screamed. Ben punched him in the jaw and he went down, cold. “Don’t listen to him!” Cass yelled. The security guard removed Placer’s gun from its holster. “Just until we straighten this out,” he told the unconscious man. Joey aimed his syringe at the security guard, but dropped it as the man aimed Placer’s gun at him. Joey dropped to the floor. “Don’t so much as move, asshole,” the security guard said. “Hands on your head.” Ben flung Placer out into the hall, while the guard left in a somewhat more leisurely manner with Joey. Cass leaned against the bed, boneless, then tried to comfort Grandma as she cried, “They were such nice boys. What happened?”

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Epilogue Friday

“What a night,” Ben said, rolling to the edge of Cass’ bed late that morning. He groaned. “I can hardly move.” Cass leaned over and patted his bare back. “Considering how physical protecting me got, I don’t blame you for being sore.” Ben rubbed the back of his head. His black hair stuck out all over his head. Now this is a relationship, Cass thought happily. She had a man and maybe even a future with him. He rolled over and looked at her. His sleepy smile was studded with an eight a.m. shadow. Cass had never seen a more handsome man and morning breath or not, snaked her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth. “What was that for?” he mumbled through her kiss. “For being here.” He grinned. “You’re something else. How on earth can you be so bright-eyed on what, three hours of sleep? Why are we even awake?” Cass smiled back at him. “It’s over.” His smile faded. “It is, isn’t it? At least until Nesell gets loose.” “I don’t think they’ll let him out. He was a conspirator in a murder. Placer wasn’t going to talk without taking all his buddies with him.” Ben snorted. “Oscar Nesell is no man’s friend.” “Or woman’s.” Cass rested her head against Ben’s warm, muscular shoulder for a moment. “Remember the cocaine Brenda had on her when she was arrested?” “Sure. I assume that was some low attempt to ensure Joey’s compliance. If anything went wrong, Brenda would get arrested.” “My thought exactly. So what about me?” “What about you,” Ben paused. “Sweet stuff?” He nuzzled her neck. Cass wriggled against his cheek, sending little thrills down her body as his scratchy beard ignited nerve endings. “Doug bought Grandma a present, remember? I never found out what it was. With Grandma still in the hospital, this is a perfect time to search for it.” She glanced at him. “Don’t you think?” Ben shook his head. “No.” “Why not?” “You look far too sexy with all that tousled hair and tiny nightie to be rifling through some old lady’s underwear drawer.” 150

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Cass giggled and climbed off the bed before he could catch her. “She doesn’t hide her treasures in her underwear drawer. C’mon.” Cass padded to the door of her room and waved at Ben. He rolled his eyes and grabbed his jeans from the floor, then grabbed her hand and followed her out. As they reached Grandma’s bathroom, Ben rubbed at his eyes. “What is that stench?” Cass laughed, turning on the light and surveying the pristine, but very fragrant bathroom, decorated in purple shag carpet and lavender accessories. “Lavender powder. Grandma loves the stuff. But I think her sense of smell is going. She uses so much! Unfortunately, her treasure chest is in here.” Ben protested. “My eyes are literally watering.” But, he followed her. Cass dropped the lid of the toilet and pulled off the crocheted toilet tank cover. She tossed the purple yarned-monstrosity at him. Ben let it drop to the floor. “Gross!” He leaned over her and pulled up the lid. “There’s a box in there,” he said. Cass pulled out a sealed bag. She undid the tape and uncovered a small cardboard box, like something you would wrap a book-size gift in. She opened it up. Inside were four twenty dollar bills, a few pictures of relatives, mostly of Cass’ late grandfather and a plastic bag that appeared to have sugar-type crystals inside. “That’s weird,” she said. “It looks like homemade herbal bath salts.” Ben took it from her and opened the baggie. “It will taste like salt if it is.” He took a pinch of it and touched it to his tongue. “That’s not bath salts,” he said flatly. “What is it?” Ben shrugged and put the lid back on the toilet. Then, he lifted the toilet seat and poured the baggie into the water. “Flush,” he instructed her. She did as he asked. “Are you sure?” Ben nodded. “Absolutely.” He took the baggie to the sink and rinsed it out until the bag was clean, then dropped it into the wastebasket. “Doug knew she liked taking baths. She’s too unsteady now, but back before, five years ago, she took them every day.” She frowned. How dare he try to get them in trouble. “What a despicable thing to do.” “It’s what you’d expect from them, but we don’t need to worry about it anymore.” Ben folded his arms over his chest and looked at the floor. “What are you thinking?” Cass asked. “That I’m getting a headache from the fumes in here,” he told her. “Your family is nuts.”

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“We don’t have to stay in here,” she suggested with a sly grin, “if you aren’t a purple person. There’s a nice warm bed waiting for us.” She turned to the door, but Ben caught her hand and pulled her to him. “What?” she whispered, caught by the longing look in his eyes. “I don’t care,” he whispered back. “Crazy, sane, hell, all I know is I can’t live without you. Marry me, Cass. Marry me even if we have to tell our grandkids that I proposed in your grandmother’s bathroom.” “We can make up a better story later,” Cass said with a smile, tugging his hand to her heart. “I’ll say yes in that version too.”

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About the Author Heather Hiestand’s first short story, “Nancy’s Magic Penny”, was written when she was seven. Though the story was popular in grade school publishing circles, it took her years to find additional fiction publication. She has been reading and reviewing romances for a decade and is now thrilled to share her own stories with readers. She has been previously published in mystery and romance short fiction. Heather resides in Washington State with her husband, and wishes to remark, “Yes, dear, of course you’re the model for all of my heroes.” Heather welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

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Also by Heather Hiestand Cards Never Lie

Cerridwen, the Celtic goddess of wisdom, was the muse who brought inspiration to storytellers and those in the creative arts. Cerridwen Press encompasses the best and most innovative stories in all genres of today’s fiction. Visit our site and discover the newest titles by talented authors who still get inspired—much like the ancient storytellers did, once upon a time.

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