Soon, we step into a small over bright room humming from the florescent lighting up above with a round wooden table set out and enough chairs for each of us. We’re a motley crew comprised of mostly women and each face looks just as wide-eyed as the next.
Before we can take our seats, just about everyone announces they want nothing to do with the task of being the jury foreman.
Annie lifts a well-lacquered nail. “I vote Mrs. Baxter here take the position, seeing that she’s sleeping with the judge.” She shoots me a look as if it were the biggest offense.
Dillard, the accountant who sat by my side the entire length of the trial, nods. “I second that. The sooner we get to the nitty-gritty, the better for everyone.”
The rest of the room agrees with their selection, and I pluck a piece of paper and a pencil from the box set in front of me, if for no other reason than to look official.
“Okay then, let’s see where we stand. Is she guilty or not?”
Both verdicts drift through the room, and my stomach cinches because this could prove to be a very long day.
Dillard shakes his head. “We don’t know if she went there that day to kill the man. His best friend testified that the guy was afraid of her. She was a stalker. A psycho ex. I’ve been there before. It’s hard to get rid of them and keep yourself standing on the right side of the soil.”
Annie waves him off. “Do you have selective vision? Didn’t you see those bruises? You don’t get that kind of damage from bumping into a door. That girl was hurt—badly.”
A brunette from across the table scoffs. “Then why go back for more?”
“Because she’s sick,” the gentleman next to her counters. “Didn’t you hear the psychologist? She said that was patterned behavior that most abused women exhibit.”
Shoot. I missed her testimony because of Flo. But not to worry because I happen to agree with what I just heard. Men have cheated on me, and each time I’ve gone back for more. It’s nothing that I’m proud of. But I can see how it could happen.
The twelve of us deliberate for close to two hours. We give impassioned pleas for those opposing our opinions to see things from our perspective. We lay out the facts and dissect them one by one. And as foreman—or forewoman—I make sure every person in this room gets a chance to say their peace—and yes, I mean peace as in what brings comfort to their heart, not piece as in piece of the pie.
Then one by one we go down the line as each of us submits our final verdict and miraculously it’s unanimous.
“Then that’s it.” I write our decision down on the verdict sheet.
In less than fifteen minutes, we’re whisked back into the courtroom, and all of the players are there, Mr. Wolfe, Fiona Dagmeyer, Allison Gray, along with a smattering of family and friends in the viewing area, and, of course, the king, Judge Essex Everett Baxter.
Everett sweeps a glance at each of the jurors. “Will the jury foreperson please stand?”
I do as I’m told and offer him a quick smile.
He nods my way. “Have you reached a unanimous decision?”
“Yes, Ev—Your Honor, we have.”
The bailiff comes over and takes the paper from me before delivering it to my handsome hubby.
Everett looks it over and his chest rises and falls before handing it back to the bailiff. His eyes meet up with mine for one hot second, and in the pit of my stomach, I wonder if Everett thinks we’ve made a mistake.
The bailiff walks the paper back and hands it to me. “Read this out loud, please.”
I look to the prosecution then the defense and clear my throat.
“The jury finds the defendant not guilty,” I say it loud and clear just as the room explodes with equal amounts of cheers and groans coming from the viewing gallery.
Fiona and Allison stand and quickly share a rocking embrace. Allison looks our way and shouts a hearty thank you, repeating the words three times fast, her face filled with relief.
Everett sounds his gavel. “Thank you to the jury for all of your hard work. You are excused. This case is adjourned.” His gavel sounds again, and this entire nightmare is over.
I catch a glimpse of the people huddled and sobbing behind the prosecutor’s desk and my heart sinks.
For some people, this case will never be over.
Chapter 15
Dr. Priscilla Barnette is a tall redhead with a white picket fence smile and bright blue eyes. With the trial behind us, Everett and I met up with Noah right here at my OB-GYN’s office for my next prenatal visit. Both Noah and Everett haven’t missed a single appointment so far. They’ve both been so very sweet about everything, so very understanding. And I’m not sure why, but it tears my heart apart just thinking about it.
Dr. Barnette has already measured my belly and disapproved of the fact I’ve gained another ten pounds—which actually does bring me to a rather shocking running total. But, nevertheless, she’s dimmed the lights and is rolling that mouse of hers over my belly as we look to the screen to witness yet another glorious ultrasound of the baby.
A spray of pink stars appears to my right, and I gasp a little as I give Flo a quick wave.
“Good work on giving that girl a free pass,” she says. “That’ll teach any man not to lay a hand on their girl.”
I make a face. I certainly wasn’t giving Allison Gray a pass, but at the end of the day, I guess I sort of did.
“And now for the baby...” Dr. Barnette says as the image on the screen comes into focus and a tiny cry emits from my lips.
“Hello there, little one,” I whimper as both Noah and Everett lean in to get a better look. “Oh, look at those chubby cheeks!” I cry out. “And that little button nose, and those perfectly pursed lips.” Tears come to my eyes, and yet I can’t stop smiling.
“Amazing.” Everett picks up my hand and kisses it. “Look at that. You can see its face, plain as day.”
Noah lets out a breath. “Lottie, he or she is beautiful.” He grips his hand over mine as he sniffs hard. “It’s almost unbelievable that you have an entire person tucked in your belly. A beautiful, beautiful soul that I cannot wait to meet.”
Flo floats over to the screen, and a whimper emits from her as she touches the area depicting the baby’s chubby little cheek.
“I can’t wait to meet my baby, too, Lottie. In paradise, of course.” A lone tear rolls down her face as bright as a falling star. “We’re going to find the bastard that did this to me—that did this to my baby—and then we’re going to kill them.”
She up and disappears in a puff of smoke, and Everett, Noah, and I exchange a glance.
“Look, look.” Dr. Barnette draws our attention back to the screen just as the baby opens its mouth.
Another cry comes from me as my sweet little sugar cookie gives a full-fledged yawn.
The four of us break out into laughter, in tears, and Dr. Barnette assures us she’ll give us each a recording of the ultrasound to play back whenever we like. Soon, the session is over, and the lights are back on.
“Okay, Lottie”—Dr. Barnette starts—“have you booked your birthing classes?”
“I sure did, a few weeks back when you suggested them. They start up next month.”