Page 20 of Jury Woman, Part 2 of 6

"It is too!" She waved it off. "What do you even do with yourself on the weekends? Besides being waited on hand and foot."

"I read. I knit. There's a small approved gym in the hotel, so I've started going. Movies some nights."

Elaine let out a whoop loud enough that Deputy Wells, stationed by the door, glanced over briefly before returning his attention to the middle distance. "Who knew federal jury duty could be this good for a person? I wanna be sequestered."

"Elaine. It's a serious responsibility."

"Can't it be both?" She grinned, unrepentant, then leaned in. "What's the situation with the man who made your ears go red back in July, the one who liked the green dress?"

My gaze shot, before I could stop it, straight to Deputy Wells, who gave no visible sign of having heard a word—eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles with practiced neutrality.

"Elaine, I have to go."

"That's not a no."

"I really have to go."

"Oh, my, God, you're blushing again!"

"Enough! I need your help. Can you find out how much time Lily's spending with Scott? I want an honest read, not whatever she tells you."

"I'll snoop like the professional I am." Elaine's expression softened. "Stop worrying about all of it so much, Iz. You've spent seventeen years running yourself into the ground for everyone else. This is basically a very strange, very involuntary spa retreat with a side of civic duty."

"That's a generous framing."

She blew a kiss at the camera. "Go recharge your batteries, Sis. We've got it covered."

I waved and ended the call, then sat there a moment in the quiet. My hairline felt moist. Had Deputy Wells heard our exchange? If so, he had to know we were talking about him… right?

But if he had, he never let on as he escorted me back to my room. My face flamed and I was sure he could hear my heart thudding with embarrassment.

When he left, his nod was as formal as usual. So either he hadn't heard… or he hadn't cared.

August 24, Monday

WHEN THE judge explained a second witness would testify behind a screen and with a disguised voice, Bryan Stone stood to vigorously object.

"Your Honor, this is courtroom theater. My client has a right to face his accusers. The U.S. Attorney is trying to convince the jury that my client is some monster that people are too afraid to confront in open court."

"Your Honor," U.S. Attorney McDavid said in a tired voice, "Mr. Stone is well aware that the witness being called is in the witness protection program because of their willingness to come forward to testify in this trial. He's the only one on stage here."

"Objection!"

"Overruled, Mr. Stone," Judge Arnold said. "Let's proceed."

"Can you describe what happened after you agreed to testify before the grand jury?" the prosecutor asked.

"Somebody left a dead bird nailed to my front door," the altered voice said, flat and toneless. "Didn't leave a note, didn't need to. I got the message."

The room had gone very still. Somewhere behind me was the soft creak of someone shifting their weight on the pew.

"Did you report that to law enforcement?"

"Yes. Nothing came of it." A pause, the modulator flattening the hesitation into something eerie. "Two weeks later my car tires were slashed. Then—" a choking noise sounded. "Someone killed my dog."

"You're sure it was intentional?" McDavid asked.

"Kimbo's throat was cut."