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Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: Contemporary
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to answer the questions. Cooperation with an investigation went a long way with the FWPD, and so forth. Wick knew the drill. He'd used it a thousand times himself.
He restarted the tape in time to hear Oren say, "All the other jurors told me you were for Lozada's acquittal from the get-go."
"That's incorrect," she said with remarkable calmness. "I wasn't for acquittal. Not at all. I believe Mr. Lozada was probably guilty. But the prosecuting attorney didn't convince me beyond a reasonable doubt. Because of that, and the charge we received from the judge, I couldn't conscientiously see him convicted."
"So it was a matter of conscience that drove you to persuade the other eleven to vote for acquittal."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "As forewoman, it was my duty to see that every facet of the case was explored. It was a heinous crime, yes, but I encouraged the other jurors not to let their emotions overrule their pledge to uphold the law, even though it may be imperfect. After two days of deliberation each juror voted according to his own conscience."
"I think that sufficiently answers your questions." Once again her lawyer stood up. "That is unless there's another totally unrelated subject you wish to chit-chat about, Detective Wesley."
Oren agreed that at this point he had nothing further to ask, and switched off the recorder, ending the tape.
As it rewound, Wick recalled the last conversation he and Oren had had about the case the night before.
"Lozada seemed to make a ... a connection with her during the trial," Oren had told him.
"Connection?"
"A lot of people noticed it. I asked the bailiff if there was a juror Lozada had especially played to and he said "You mean the forewoman?"' First thing out of his mouth, and I hadn't even mentioned Dr. Newton. The bailiff said our boy stared at her throughout the trial. Enough to make it noticeable."
"Doesn't mean she stared back."
Oren gave him one of his noncommittal shrugs that paradoxically said a lot.
"I'm not surprised Lozada would single out an attractive woman and stare at her,"
Wick had continued. "He's a creep."
"He's a creep who looks like a movie star."
"Of The Godfather maybe."
"Some women get off on that dangerous type."
"Speaking from experience, Oren? I promise not to tell Grace. Details. I want details. The really juicy ones." He had annoyed his friend further by giving him a lascivious wink.
"Cut it out."
It was then that Grace had joined them. She asked what Wick was laughing about, and when he declined to tell her, she reminded him that the girls wouldn't settle for the night until they got their story. He wove them a tale about a sassy rock star and her handsome, dashing bodyguard whose physical description strongly resembled him. He and Oren had no further conversation before he left.
After removing the videotape from the player, he decided to eat the tuna sandwich too. It tasted fishy and old, but he ate all of it, knowing he'd get nothing more until morning. He was dusting crumbs off his hands when he saw a Jeep wagon swing into Rennie Newton's driveway.
He yanked up the binoculars but barely got a glimpse of her before the car rolled into her garage. Less than thirty seconds later the light in her kitchen came on. The first thing she did was slide the strap of her oversized handbag off her shoulder and lower it to the table. Then she pulled off her suit jacket and tugged her shirttail from the waistband of her slacks.
Crossing to the fridge, she took out a bottle of water, uncapped it, and took a drink. Then she twisted the cap back on and stood at the sink, her head down. Wick adjusted the focus on the binoculars. Through the window above the sink, she appeared close enough to touch. A loose strand of hair trailed alongside her cheek and fell onto her chest.
She rolled the cold water bottle back and forth across her forehead. Her expression, her body language, her posture indicated profound weariness. She should be
He restarted the tape in time to hear Oren say, "All the other jurors told me you were for Lozada's acquittal from the get-go."
"That's incorrect," she said with remarkable calmness. "I wasn't for acquittal. Not at all. I believe Mr. Lozada was probably guilty. But the prosecuting attorney didn't convince me beyond a reasonable doubt. Because of that, and the charge we received from the judge, I couldn't conscientiously see him convicted."
"So it was a matter of conscience that drove you to persuade the other eleven to vote for acquittal."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "As forewoman, it was my duty to see that every facet of the case was explored. It was a heinous crime, yes, but I encouraged the other jurors not to let their emotions overrule their pledge to uphold the law, even though it may be imperfect. After two days of deliberation each juror voted according to his own conscience."
"I think that sufficiently answers your questions." Once again her lawyer stood up. "That is unless there's another totally unrelated subject you wish to chit-chat about, Detective Wesley."
Oren agreed that at this point he had nothing further to ask, and switched off the recorder, ending the tape.
As it rewound, Wick recalled the last conversation he and Oren had had about the case the night before.
"Lozada seemed to make a ... a connection with her during the trial," Oren had told him.
"Connection?"
"A lot of people noticed it. I asked the bailiff if there was a juror Lozada had especially played to and he said "You mean the forewoman?"' First thing out of his mouth, and I hadn't even mentioned Dr. Newton. The bailiff said our boy stared at her throughout the trial. Enough to make it noticeable."
"Doesn't mean she stared back."
Oren gave him one of his noncommittal shrugs that paradoxically said a lot.
"I'm not surprised Lozada would single out an attractive woman and stare at her,"
Wick had continued. "He's a creep."
"He's a creep who looks like a movie star."
"Of The Godfather maybe."
"Some women get off on that dangerous type."
"Speaking from experience, Oren? I promise not to tell Grace. Details. I want details. The really juicy ones." He had annoyed his friend further by giving him a lascivious wink.
"Cut it out."
It was then that Grace had joined them. She asked what Wick was laughing about, and when he declined to tell her, she reminded him that the girls wouldn't settle for the night until they got their story. He wove them a tale about a sassy rock star and her handsome, dashing bodyguard whose physical description strongly resembled him. He and Oren had no further conversation before he left.
After removing the videotape from the player, he decided to eat the tuna sandwich too. It tasted fishy and old, but he ate all of it, knowing he'd get nothing more until morning. He was dusting crumbs off his hands when he saw a Jeep wagon swing into Rennie Newton's driveway.
He yanked up the binoculars but barely got a glimpse of her before the car rolled into her garage. Less than thirty seconds later the light in her kitchen came on. The first thing she did was slide the strap of her oversized handbag off her shoulder and lower it to the table. Then she pulled off her suit jacket and tugged her shirttail from the waistband of her slacks.
Crossing to the fridge, she took out a bottle of water, uncapped it, and took a drink. Then she twisted the cap back on and stood at the sink, her head down. Wick adjusted the focus on the binoculars. Through the window above the sink, she appeared close enough to touch. A loose strand of hair trailed alongside her cheek and fell onto her chest.
She rolled the cold water bottle back and forth across her forehead. Her expression, her body language, her posture indicated profound weariness. She should be
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