Juror #3

by James Patterson

  The door to the jury room opened, and the bailiff walked back out, his empty tray smacking the door frame.

  “Go get your client, Miss Bozarth; I’ll get the judge. They’ve got a verdict.”

  Chapter 74

  LEE GREENE AND I stood shoulder to shoulder at the defense table as the jury filed into the jury box. My client’s chest rose and fell so rapidly that his breathing made his power tie dance. Behind us, I could sense the panic emanating from Lee’s mother. I’d swear I could hear her teeth rattle.

  I focused my attention on the men and women in the jury box. My brow wrinkled as I studied them. Something looked off.

  But when I saw that the verdict form was in the hands of a woman who’d been one of Lee’s most ardent admirers, my shoulders relaxed.

  As the judge said, “Ms. Foreman, do you have a verdict?” I made eye contact with Lee and gave him a ghost of a smile. He nodded in understanding. The foreman of the jury was on our side.

  The woman held up her sheet of paper and said, “We do, Your Honor.”

  The bailiff was peering into the jury room. He turned to the judge with an expression of dismay. He sprinted to the bench with more speed than I thought the old guy could muster and whispered into the judge’s ear.

  The judge shook his head and fiddled with his hearing device. The whine that pierced my ears made me shudder involuntarily.

  Looking from the judge to the jury, I finally realized what I’d missed. One of the spots in the jury box was unoccupied; there was an empty chair in the middle of the first row. I counted heads to be certain: eleven. A juror was missing.

  When the whine from the hearing aid subsided, Judge Ashley said, “What’s wrong with the remaining member of the jury?”

  The woman holding the verdict form answered. “He’s in there, Judge.” She held up the sheet of paper in her hand. “We all voted before it happened.”

  Judge Ashley shut his eyes and shook his head. Then he said to the bailiff, “Get in there and get him into the jury box.”

  The bailiff disappeared into the jury room, and Deputy Brockes ran to join him.

  Lee elbowed me. Under his breath, he said, “What the hell?”

  I met his eye and a wave of panic engulfed me. We had come so far, and our evidence was compelling. Why was there a holdout?

  The events of the past few days had even been a game changer for the prosecution. After the shooting of Cary Reynolds and subsequent arrests of Reynolds and Potts, Keet bent over backward to let the jury see what the defense wanted to reveal. I was certain that we had created a reasonable doubt for the jury. Dead certain.

  But only eleven jurors walked out of that room. The verdict in a criminal case had to be unanimous.

  I was counsel for the defendant; I was responsible for presenting and arguing our case. Had the points in my closing argument not been convincing enough? If there was a hung jury, Lee’s case would not be resolved. And it would be all my fault.

  Chapter 75

  IN MY HEAD, I was reviewing the matters I’d driven home in my argument—maybe I hadn’t been clear. Behind me, Suzanne was sitting beside Lee’s parents. They were whispering, but I could hear Suzanne’s response.

  “Y’all just settle down. We’ll know in a minute.”

  She fell silent as the bailiff and Deputy Brockes walked out of the jury room with the last juror. I was desperate to see what was happening, but Lee was blocking my view. To get a good look, I leaned so far over the counsel table that I was in danger of flashing my panties for the whole courthouse.

  When I saw the juror, I forgot to worry about my underwear. Brockes and the bailiff were straining to hold the man up. His head dangled from his neck, and his feet dragged on the tile floor.

  The judge’s voice boomed from the bench, causing me to jump. “Which one is he? Which juror?”

  The bailiff answered. “This one’s Morris. He’s number three.”

  I snickered. Lee looked at me, shocked. I covered my mouth; this was no time to explain my inappropriate reaction.

  But my eyes strayed to that empty chair in the front row of the jury box. Lord, have mercy: what were the odds? Juror number three. Again.

  Judge Ashley said, “Is juror number three sick? Did he fall ill?”

  The jury foreman leaned forward, grasping the railing. She said, “He wanted to try it. The defendant’s exhibit, that water bottle.”

  Judge Ashley stared at her with shock. “What’s that, ma’am?”

  She nodded and lifted her shoulders. “The water in the bottle. He didn’t believe it could knock out a grown man. He said he didn’t buy Ms. Bozarth’s scientific evidence.” She paused, then added, “That’s a quote.”

  Judge Ashley took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

  The foreman continued: “Even when we said to him that Ms. Bozarth called a real scientist who tested it to the stand. And that scientist swore under oath and testified what was in that water bottle and what it could do to anybody who drank it. But that polecat said he’d have to see it to believe it.” She glanced over at the slumped figure of the twelfth juror and snorted.

  The judge tapped the gavel on the bench. “Read your verdict, Ms. Foreman.”

  She stood up straight and shot a look at Lee, then turned her eyes to the verdict form.

  “We, the undersigned, find the defendant, Lee Greene, not guilty.”

  Lee’s head dropped back on his neck as a smattering of applause broke out in the courtroom gallery. Lee’s mother lunged over the railing, hugging him from behind. I edged away, to give him room to turn around and share the moment with his parents.

  Suzanne flew out of the gallery and came to my side. She gave me a hearty kiss, no doubt leaving a red print of lipstick on my cheek.

  She cupped my cheek with her hand and looked at me with pride shining in her eyes. “You saved the farm, girl.” Dropping her voice, she added. “Not to mention my bad-boy nephew.”

  I gave her a quick hug. “And you saved my skin. I still get shaky when I think of what Reynolds and Potts had in store for me.”

  “I guess I never mentioned. I always carry heat.”

  The idea of Suzanne toting a deadly weapon was frightening in principle. But it had come in handy five nights before.

  Lee broke away from his parents. He walked up to me, took my hand, and squeezed it.

  “Ruby, we’re celebrating. Join us for dinner. Please.”

  He gave me a smile that had a glimmer of the old Lee Greene charm. But when his mother called to him, he moved away to answer her.

  Suzanne said, “Come on out and eat with us. Let the Greene family suck up to you for an evening.”

  Having the Greenes court me would have been a novel experience. But I no longer had an appetite for it. I dodged the invitation, saying, “Nobody’s eating anything until Lee does his victory dance for the press. The reporters are probably running across the courthouse lawn right this minute.”

  “You’re right.” A stray lock of hair had fallen over my cheek; Suzanne reached out to tuck it behind my ear. “Smile for the cameras, honey.”

  Chapter 76

  AFTER LEE AND I fielded all of the reporters’ questions, they packed up their equipment and drifted to the vans parked on the courthouse square. Lee heaved a sigh.

  “It’s over,” he said.

  I flashed a smile at him. “Well, almost. You’ll need to pay the remainder of your attorney’s fee.”

  “Gladly.” He pulled the fountain pen from his jacket and used it to point at my office. “Let’s go wrap that up right now.”

  I flushed. “I was just teasing, Lee. We’ll send it in the mail, with an accounting of my hours.”

  “No, ma’am.” He took my elbow, propelling me down the sidewalk. “I’m no charity case. This is a debt I’m happy to pay right away.” Over his shoulder, he said to Lee Sr., “Daddy, tell Mama we’ll meet y’all at the club.”

  Once inside the Ben Franklin, I pulled up the file on the computer
and did a quick calculation of the time I’d spent in the past week. While my hands were busy on the keyboard, Lee paced the office.

  A cardboard box sat in the corner. I’d written Goodwill on the side of the box with a Sharpie. Lee lifted the top flaps and looked inside.

  “What’s this?”

  Swiveling in my chair to face him, I said, “It’s some stuff of mine that I’m donating. Since I bought some new clothes and got a new set of pots and pans, I’m getting rid of my old college stuff.”

  He lifted a gray jacket that was folded on top and shook it out.

  “What in God’s name is this? Merciful heavens.”

  Lifting my chin, I said, “A suit.”

  “I can see it’s a suit. How did such a rag make its way into your possession?”

  “I bought it. At Goodwill.” With an edge in my voice, I added, “Tried my first case in that suit.”

  He chuckled as he dropped it back into the box. I saw him pull a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his hands as he dropped into the seat facing my desk.

  “That’s the thing about you that always fascinated me, Ruby. You were such a diamond in the rough. I could always see the possibilities, how you could someday shed that humble outer layer and shine.”

  My voice was flat. “Thanks. Wow.”

  He tucked his handkerchief away and crossed his legs. “Don’t get huffy, darlin’. I’m serious. You are a rare jewel. I could always see it, even though my parents were blind to your charms.”

  “Well, that’s something we can all agree on.” I hit the Print button, and pages began to crank out of the printer. I gave the bill a careful review, then handed it across the desk.

  He pulled a checkbook from an inner pocket of his suit coat. Without a glance at the particulars, he wrote a check, signing his name with a flourish.

  I pressed my lips together to hide my glee as I locked the check in my desk. The amount was substantial. A vision of a new set of tires danced in my head.

  “You’ve won them over,” he said. I looked up. He was smiling, looking at me with unmasked admiration.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “My mama and daddy. They see you in a new light. Mama said so last night. She wished she’d been more welcoming a year ago, made you feel like a part of the family.”

  There was some satisfaction in hearing about his parents’ change of heart, but I was eager to get to the Firestone shop. I was tired of limping around on a patched tire. “That’s real sweet, Lee. You tell her I said so.”

  I walked around the desk, hoping to signal an end to the conversation. But Lee grabbed my hand and pulled me into the chair beside his.

  “You tell her. We’re celebrating tonight; Daddy got a table at the country club. We’ll order a bottle of Dom. Remember the first time you tasted Dom Pérignon? The night we got engaged?”

  “It’s the only time I’ve ever tasted it,” I said.

  He laughed, as if I were trying to be witty. He reached into the side pocket of his coat and placed a box on my desk.

  A small black velvet box. I thought, Oh, shit.

  Chapter 77

  I DIDN’T SAY anything. Just looked at him with disbelief.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” he said.

  I folded my hands in my lap. “Lee.”

  He ignored me, lifting the box from its spot on the desk and pulling back the lid.

  I recognized it, all right. It was the engagement ring he’d given me, back in law school. The one I’d thrown in his face when I caught him cheating on me in a bathroom stall.

  I tried to keep my voice light. “You can’t turn back the clock, Lee.”

  “I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward.” He set the open box back on the desk, in a beam of sunlight from the window. The stone sent out a shard of light. My eyes were drawn to it, lured by the rainbow of facets.

  I reached for the velvet box. And I snapped the lid shut.

  “Lee, you flatter me. But I have a man in my life right now; you know that.”

  He gave me a side-eye glance through lowered lids. “Shorty Morgan? The fry cook? Oh, Ruby. Be serious.”

  He reached for my hand and held it in his. I was startled to feel how cold his fingers were.

  Lee said, “The only real impediment to our future was my parents’ failure to accept you. Now that they have, they’ll pave the way for us. You’ll get back the job with the law firm in Jackson; you can leave this shabby little office behind. You’ll love my loft in the city. And I know you were never much of a joiner, but Mama can fix all of that. She’ll get you into the Junior League.”

  I laughed aloud; I couldn’t help it. Incredulous, Lee said, “Do you hear what I’m saying? What I’m offering you?”

  With a struggle, I pulled a straight face. “Lee, thanks for your offer. But I can’t accept this ring.”

  I tried to pull my hand from his grasp, but he held on to my fingers. “You don’t need to wear it on your finger. I understand that; it’s too soon. Get it reset—as a pendant, maybe. I’ll buy another ring when you’re ready.”

  I met his gaze. His eyes were a startling blue, and he looked at me with such intensity that it lent sincerity to his plea. A woman could get lost in his blue eyes. If she didn’t know him like I did.

  With my free hand, I nudged the velvet box closer to him. “Save the ring for the right woman, Lee. I know you’ll find her.”

  He stood abruptly, shoved the box in his jacket, and turned to go. “I don’t suppose you’ll be joining us at the club for dinner.”

  “No. I’d best not.”

  He left my office without a backward glance. Relieved to hear the front door slam shut, I let my shoulders relax.

  Returning to my desk, I emptied my briefcase, pulling out my folders and legal pads and stacking them. I’d file them later.

  The briefcase sat in my lap, still almost as shiny as the day Lee had presented it to me in a big box tied with a red ribbon. I inspected it. There was a scuff mark on one side, but it wiped clean when I rubbed it with my fingers.

  Inside, I had a fistful of change, four or five pens, a wad of Kleenex, and a box of Nicorette. I took a piece of gum from the box and chewed down.

  And inspiration struck. I knew just what to do.

  I turned the bag upside down and shook it. The coins and pens tumbled onto my desk, followed by the tissues. I took care to shut the nicotine gum in the top drawer of my desk.

  Then I stood up and tossed the Coach briefcase into the Goodwill box, right on top of my secondhand jacket. With an effort, I hefted the box in my arms and headed out.

  It was going to be a red-letter day at Goodwill. And a good day for me.

  Acknowledgments

  Some people provided excellent assistance as we shaped Ruby’s courtroom practice and the cases she encountered. Special thanks go to John Appelquist and Susan Appelquist for their wise counsel and legal expertise; to Dr. Patti Ross Salinas for sharing her knowledge of criminology; and to Dr. Manuel Salinas for explaining the medical issues involved in the story line in a way the layperson can understand.

  About the Authors

  JAMES PATTERSON received the Literarian Award for Outstanding Service to the American Literary Community from the National Book Foundation. He holds the Guinness World Record for the most #1 New York Times bestsellers, and his books have sold more than 375 million copies worldwide. A tireless champion of the power of books and reading, Patterson created a children’s book imprint, JIMMY Patterson, whose mission is simple: “We want every kid who finishes a JIMMY Book to say, ‘PLEASE GIVE ME ANOTHER BOOK.’” He has donated more than one million books to students and soldiers and funds over four hundred Teacher Education Scholarships at twenty-four colleges and universities. He has also donated millions of dollars to independent bookstores and school libraries. Patterson invests proceeds from the sales of JIMMY Patterson Books in pro-reading initiatives.

  NANCY ALLEN practiced law for fifteen ye
ars in her native Ozarks and is now a law instructor at Missouri State University. She is also the author of the Ozarks Mystery series.

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