Authors: M.J. Rodgers
“All right, I’ll be there,” Jack said. “But you have to give me your word of honor that you won’t grow up to be a professional actress. Your mother would kill me.”
Mel’s giggle was rich with delight, a sound so much nicer to hear than her earlier disappointment.
“J
UROR NUMBER SEVENTEEN CUT OUT
a story about Connie’s upcoming trial that ran this week,” Shirley announced as she held up the newspaper sheet with the telling hole. “Since she lives alone that can only mean she’s following the case in direct defiance of the judge’s admonition to stay away from all media reports.”
“Well done, Holmes,” Jack said, meaning it.
The four of them sat in a circle on the living room floor at Baby Lane, sorting through the trash that Jack and Mel had picked up that morning from the homes of their prospective jurors. Whether it was part of her mental capacity or part of the persona of her fictional character, Shirley continued to impress him with her uncanny ability to make sense out of the discarded debris.
“What does our psychological profile show on this juror so far?” Diana asked.
Mel picked up the sheet for juror number seventeen. “She’s in her early sixties, four times divorced, three adult children—all who have moved to other states—and five grandchildren, none of whom she’s allowed to see according to a note of complaint she wrote on her questionnaire. She’s a retired auditor from the county assessor’s office, would like to be a judge on Court TV, and if she won a million dollars, she’d buy a nice casket and burial plot since she knows none of her ungrateful children will do it when she goes.”
Diana shook her head as she stretched out her legs. “A very unhappy, judgmental person. Mark her file as one to be excused.”
Jack pulled his eyes away from the enticing sheen of bare skin before him.
When Diana had arrived home late from the office,
she’d changed into shorts and T-shirt before joining them. Her clothing was appropriate for the very warm temperatures that had arrived with the muggy afternoon skies. But it wasn’t helping Jack’s rising blood pressure.
Which was why he’d deliberately chosen to sit with the firm barriers of Mel and Shirley between them.
“Jack, I think I’ve found something, too,” Mel said as she passed him a treasure from their hunt.
Mel’s voice had been high with excitement all day. What surprised Jack wasn’t so much that the kid had enjoyed herself, but that he had actually enjoyed having her along. She’d worked hard and hadn’t complained once, not even when he’d given her the task of going through the nonpaper trash to make note of food consumption choices of the prospective jurors.
“So what’s significant about this receipt from Barnes and Noble?” Jack asked as he glanced at the sheet she had handed him, pretty sure he knew what she was getting at, but wanting to give her the chance to say it.
“The book titles. This juror has purchased four books on how to deal with and survive cancer. I think he’s sick.”
“Does he live alone?” Jack asked.
Mel took a moment as she referred to the man’s questionnaire. “He’s forty-seven, divorced, his address is an apartment and his only son lives in Massachusetts.”
“Are there any other concerns we’ve noted about him?” Diana asked.
Mel shook her head.
“His illness doesn’t disqualify him in my mind, if he feels well enough and chooses to serve,” Diana said.
“Will you ask him about being ill in
voir dire
?” Jack asked.
She shook her head. “If he doesn’t volunteer the information, it will remain his business. I’m only interested in
matters that might interfere with someone rendering a fair verdict.”
“Speaking of fairness,” Shirley said, “I think you need to take a look at these.”
Jack accepted the two stubs she’d handed him, but puzzled over their significance a moment before it finally hit him. “These stubs are from Staker’s political fund-raiser last week.”
Shirley’s nod was that of a pleased professor for a bright student. Jack smiled at her before turning to Diana. “That political fund-raiser was by invitation only, right?”
“And cost five hundred dollars a plate,” Diana confirmed. “Who’s the juror, Holmes?”
Shirley picked up the label that had been affixed to the plastic bag. “Number one hundred and two.”
Mel opened the binder that contained the prospective jurors’ returned information. “Number one hundred and two claims here that he has never heard of Staker. He’s the financial officer at a local bank. Married. Two kids. Ages ten and twelve.”
“Since the kids obviously didn’t attend that fund-raiser,” Diana said, “the Mr. and Mrs. must have. Not only has this guy lied about knowing Staker, he obviously wants on the jury so he can support Staker by convicting Connie.”
“When Staker sees him in the jury box, he’ll have to excuse him,” Jack said.
“If he recognizes the guy,” Diana said. “I understand that a thousand invitations were mailed out for that fundraiser and close to four hundred people showed up. If this guy is trying to get on the jury panel quietly, I doubt he’s made himself known to Staker.”
“What are you going to need to expose him?” Jack asked.
“A list of the attendees to that fundraiser,” Diana said. “Can you get it?”
“Give me a day or two,” Jack said. The smile she sent him was worth whatever trouble it was going to take.
“You were right when you said we could check to see if jurors filled out their questionnaires honestly. Between the Internet searches and this trash pickup, there’s a wealth of information available. Can I get you on retainer to perform these tasks on all my trials?”
“As long as the deal includes your daughter’s help,” Jack said.
Mel sent him a pleased grin. “Jack nearly got into a fist fight with this one guy who wasn’t on our list, but insisted we take his trash anyway. Then this raccoon leaped out of a garbage can and landed right on Jack’s shoulder, making him jump a foot. And this huge dog chased Jack up the block. And—”
“Sounds like
you
had a lot of fun,” Diana said to her daughter.
“It was certainly productive,” Shirley announced.
Jack looked over to see Shirley holding up a piece of paper.
“What is it?” Diana asked.
“Ruth Vinter, prospective juror number sixty-four, listed her profession as clergy, but this pay stub in her trash clearly shows she’s a driving instructor at the local high school,” Shirley said.
“If she makes her living teaching teenagers how to drive, she probably needs to pray a lot,” Diana said with a smile. “What character did she pick to play on TV or in the movies?”
“Oprah because she has such a good heart.”
“Great answer,” Diana said. “Flag Ruth’s file and I’ll clarify the employment point with her if she winds up in the jury box.”
They continued sorting for a few more minutes before Mel let out an audible yawn. Diana checked her watch. “Past your bedtime, Cute Stuff.”
Jack wasn’t surprised when Mel didn’t protest. She’d been up since dawn and was pretty sensible for a kid. After stacking the last of the papers on her lap into a neat pile, she stood.
“I, too, must retire,” Shirley said as she got to her feet. “Tomorrow will prove another busy day perusing these clues. Come, Hound.”
Diana called a good-night to Shirley as her aunt started toward the stairs, the cat dogging her feet.
Mel gave her mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek. When she walked by Jack, she stooped and gave him a quick hug. Jack was so startled he nearly fell back on the floor. As he watched her disappear up the stairs after Shirley, he shook his head in bona fide bewilderment.
“Well, now, that’s a first,” Diana said, sounding as astonished as he felt.
Jack looked over to see her smiling at him. “Does
every
female you meet succumb to your charm?” she asked lightly.
The meaning inherent in her words immediately tightened every muscle in Jack’s body.
“Have you, Diana?” he asked, not lightly at all.
Her eyes dropped to the papers on her lap. “Time to call it a night.”
That had been a polite way of closing the subject and asking him to leave. A sensible man would have taken the hint. But Jack didn’t feel particularly sensible at the moment.
What he felt he could no longer ignore.
“Diana?”
When she looked up, the expression on her face was all he needed to see. The next instant he was beside her on
the floor, right beside her, drinking in her scent—already dangerously close to the edge.
“Jack, we want very different things from life.”
Her words were full of sense, but her skin was flushed and her voice breathless.
“Diana, right now what I want more than anything is to kiss you. And I’m going to if you don’t tell me to get lost or beat me off with something. There’s a heavy binder on the floor in front of you and a fireplace poker to your right. Words or weapons—choose quickly. You have three seconds.”
She didn’t waste a one of them. With an inarticulate murmur, she pulled him to her.
I
T WAS RAINING SOFTLY
, the kind of summer rain that made no sound. As Diana gazed out her open bedroom window, she could see the silky curtain of beaded drops caught in the muted moonlight. She inhaled the heady scent and sighed.
Jack’s arm held her firmly against the hard curve of his body. “You smell so good,” he said as he kissed the back of her neck. “Better than the rain, than summer, than a man’s deepest dreams.”
Her spine tingled. Heaven couldn’t feel any better than this.
How they’d gotten to her bed was a blur. But everything they’d done here would forever be embedded in her memory. Jack was the kind of lover most women only got to dream about—so totally focused on giving pleasure that her tiniest movement or sound was responded to as though it were his own.
No guy should be this good. How could a woman ever be satisfied with anyone else?
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he nuzzled her ear.
“Why do you think something’s wrong?”
“Your sigh had a sadness to it.”
He could sure read her all right.
She’d become what she’d promised herself she would never be—one of Jack’s women. Asking him where their relationship was going was unnecessary. She already knew. From the first, he’d told her he was a confirmed bachelor.
They
were going nowhere.
“What now, Jack?”
Heaven help her, she’d asked anyway.
“I can’t go back to just being your friend,” he said. “Even if I wanted to. And I definitely don’t want to.”
An evasion of the real question she’d asked. Maybe that was kinder than honesty. Maybe she should shut up and take what he had to give. Even she heard the sadness in her sigh that time. So much for all her bold self-talk.
“Diana?”
“It’s almost two, Jack. I’m not comfortable with Mel finding out that we’ve…you’ve spent the night.”
“I’ll be out of here soon,” he promised in a heated whisper against her ear. “But first…”
Even if she had wanted to resist, there wasn’t a cell in her body that would have let her. Not when the hard perfection of his body was so close and his eager, expert hands were already claiming her as his.
I
T WAS AFTER FIVE
in the morning when Jack pulled the van he’d used for trash pickup the previous day into the large garage behind the White Knight Investigation offices. He parked the vehicle, turned off the engine and sat for a moment in the quiet darkness.
He’d been greedy and selfish keeping Diana awake all night. But he couldn’t help himself. If she didn’t have a daughter in the house, he’d still be in bed with her, and in
a few hours, doing everything in his power to convince her to call in sick to work.
But she did have a daughter in the house—a daughter he’d made a promise to. He’d broken that promise, as well as the one he’d made to himself—a promise not to get involved with a woman who had a child.
We want very different things from life.
Diana was right. Making love to her had been a mistake. But it was a mistake he intended to go right on making.
Jack huffed in frustration as he got out of the van. He started stripping off the sign that identified it as part of a neighborhood recycling program.
The van was a multipurpose vehicle. Depending on the sign they put on the sides, it could pass for a delivery truck, utility vehicle, or assume any number of other handy camouflages a private investigator might need on a case. After he removed the sign, Jack would give it a good wash inside and out to get rid of any lingering odor.
“The lady must be special,” a familiar voice said suddenly. “You almost stayed for breakfast.”
Jack started, and turned to smile into the warm gray eyes that greeted him. He walked over to his mother, gave her a hug. Alice Knight had an unbeatable knack for sniffing out a secret. Of course, his returning the van at this time of the morning was a dead giveaway he’d been too busy the night before to attend to it.
“What has you up so early?” he asked.
“Richard’s been on an all-night surveillance. I’m going to take over the watch for a few hours to give him a break. Tell me about Diana Mason.”
Oh, no. Jack wasn’t going to let a guilty conscience trip him up again. His answer was delivered in neutral tones. “Very intelligent. Ethical. She’s doing her best to do right by her client.”
Alice smiled. “Like her that much, do you?”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
“This is the first time you’ve failed to tell me how beautiful a woman is that you’re interested in.”
“What makes you think I’m interested in Diana?”
“Your oh-so-careful attempt to sound so uninterested,” Alice said on her way to the old pickup in the corner. “Please call Jared and straighten out whatever it is that has you two not talking.”
Jack didn’t bother to ask his mother how she knew he and Jared weren’t talking. Keeping a secret from anyone in his family was clearly an exercise in futility.
“Why couldn’t I have been born to acrobats or musicians or safe crackers?” he asked the roof.