Page 8 of Jury Woman, Part 3 of 6

"Do you have a preference for where we go?" he asked.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "There's a hobby shop about twenty minutes away. They'll have lots of reading glasses… and yarn."

His mouth curved upward. "I guess that'll be okay."

I sat back, pleased. The radio wasn't playing—probably to keep me from hearing news about the case. But the silence between us felt comfortable.

"Solemn day," he remarked.

I nodded. "Do you remember where you were?" I asked, watching cars and strip malls slide by.

"Senior year of college. My roommate turned on the TV before our morning class and neither of us made it to campus." A pause. "Felt like the whole country was on fire and nobody knew how far it would spread. Where were you?"

"I was a senior in high school. First period, actually—my French teacher had the news on before anyone understood why. They sent us home early. My dad came to get me and my sister, and it took almost two hours to get through the traffic, everybody trying to leave at once like the whole city expected the sky to fall on us too." I looked out the window. "It was the first time I ever saw my father genuinely frightened."

"Mine too, probably, if I'm honest." He kept his eyes on the road. "Next day I walked into an Army recruitment office and enlisted."

"You were in the Army?"

"Infantry. Did a stretch in Iraq." He said it plainly. "When I got out, I didn't know what to do with myself. I went into law enforcement to stay out of trouble."

I liked knowing some details of his life. It helped to organize what I'd already observed about him.

"It suits you."

He nodded. "It does."

At the hobby store, he followed me through the aisles at a distance but always nearby. I felt awkward trying on glasses to find the magnification I needed and the style I liked. When I looked in the mirror I caught his gaze behind me. He acted as if he'd been caught, then looked away. A little zing of awareness barbed through me. In the yarn section, I nearly salivated over the selection of wool, mohair, cashmere, alpaca, on and on, in a paint palette of riotous color. But I restrained myself and bought only enough to see me through whatever months remained—and two pairs of reading glasses, one as backup against my own carelessness.

On the drive back he turned on the radio, and a memorial service filled the cab, names being read in a long unhurried cadence, church bells between sections. I felt a deep appreciation for this man… the tragedy had changed the trajectory of his life toward public service. We didn't say a word, just listened as other people's grief moved through the speakers.

When we pulled into the hotel garage and he opened my door, something in the deputy's bearing had already reset itself—professional, contained. And I felt the same shift happen in me.

September 12, Saturday

"YOU COULD try withholding their allowance," I suggested to Warren. "Until they start picking up after themselves."

He gave a short, humorless laugh. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one dealing with the fallout when Lily throws a fit about it."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Help would be coming back where you belong."

I counted to five, then pressed on. "The kids mentioned you haven't been around much. That you're rarely home before midnight."

His jaw tightened. "Since you're so curious—things haven't exactly been smooth at the dealership. Sales are down, I've got a manager out on leave, and I'm covering shifts I shouldn't have to cover at my level. So yeah, I've been putting in hours." He leaned toward the camera. "Which, by the way, makes this a spectacularly bad time for you to be vacationing at a hotel for six months."

"I understand that's hard."

He scoffed. "No, you don't. You don't know what it's like to have to work for a living."

"I've been working the whole time, Warren. I just wasn't getting a paycheck."

He rolled his eyes. "Do we have to do this?"

"No." I inhaled, then made myself ask the next question. "How are things going with Heidi?"

Warren scoffed. "That's not something I discuss with you." His tone had an edge to it I hadn't heard directed my way in a while, not since the early days after the papers were signed. Then something shifted in his expression, suspicion replacing irritation. "Wait—did you say something to Elaine? She's been scarce all week. Barely returning my texts about the kids' schedule."