Page 2 of Jury Woman, Part 2 of 6

"How long will this last?" Warren blurted.

"Possibly six months?"

"Six months?"

"Six months?"

"SIX MONTHS?"

"Or maybe less," I hedged.

Warren stood. His face was scarlet. "Isabel. This isn't going to work."

"I understand that feels true right now."

"It doesn't feel true, it is true." He chopped at the air. "I have a dealership to run. I can't just—"

"You should probably move back in," I said.

His face turned purple. "I'm not doing that."

"Then the kids can stay at your apartment."

He glared. "There's not enough room."

"Then you should probably move back in," I repeated calmly.

Warren's jaw hardened. He knew I was right, and he hated me in that moment.

Josh groaned. "Who's gonna take care of us?"

"You're going to take care of yourselves. You can cook. Do your own laundry. Get yourself in and out of bed on time."

Warren pulled his hand over his mouth. "What is this trial? What's it about?"

"I can't discuss it."

"Isabel—"

"I cannot discuss it. That's not me being difficult, Warren. That's the law. I took an oath."

"You're going to be gone for six months, and you can't say why?"

"That's correct."

The doorbell saved me. I'd asked Elaine to come over and bring me clothes she could spare from her closet. She breezed in with two garment bags draped over one arm and a tote in each hand, looking the way she always looked—put-together, purposeful, slightly ahead of whatever room she'd just walked into. She read the atmosphere in approximately two seconds.

"I'll take that as my cue," she said, nodding toward the hallway. "Come show me your closet so we know what you're missing."

We retreated to my bedroom and closed the door.

"You got a nice tan," I remarked. "Did you have fun?"

"A cruise is always fun. I drank gallons of rum."

I couldn't even remember what rum tasted like. When had I become such a dud?

"I brought business casual stuff," she said. "And threw in a couple of suits, just in case. This is so exciting! You, sitting on a federal case!"