The Crush Part 6

A manila folder was lying on the table. Oren picked it up and dropped it into Wick's lap. "Do your own research.

Grace is holding dinner for me."

He got up, stretched, reached for a roll of architectural drawings he was using as props, and headed for the staircase.

"We didn't finish the video last night. It's there if you want to watch it, but don't let it distract you from keeping an eye on the house."

"I'd like to see the rest of it. Might pick up something."

Oren nodded. "My pager will be with me. Call if anything out of the ordinary happens."

"Like Lozada showing up?"

"Yeah, like that. I can be here in ten minutes. See you in the morning."

"Is there any food?"

"Sandwiches in the minifridge."

The stairs creaked beneath Oren's weight. After he left, the house fell silent except for the occasional groan of old wood. The empty rooms smelled like the sawdust left over

from the uncompleted renovation. Most would consider it an unpleasant place in which to spend a night, but Wick didn't mind. In fact he had volunteered for the night shift.

Oren needed to be with his family. Thigpen, too. Although Wick imagined that Mrs. Thigpen would probably prefer him to be away as much as possible.

He picked up the binoculars and checked Rennie Newton's house. She wasn't home vet. He used the opportunity to check the small refrigerator and found two wrapped sandwiches. Tuna salad. Turkey and Swiss. He selected the turkey and carried it back with him to the table near the window. He put the tape into the combo VCR and monitor, then settled back to watch the video as he ate his sandwich.

The recording started playing at the point where Oren had stopped it the night before. On the video Oren said, "Dr. Newton, did you recently serve on the jury that acquitted an accused killer, Mr. Lozada?"

Her lawyer leaned forward. "Where's the relevance, Detective?"

"I'll get to it."

"Please do. Dr. Newton has surgical patients waiting for her."

"It could become necessary for another doctor to take over her responsibilities."

"Is that a threat that I might be detained?" Rennie Newton asked.

Oren sidestepped the direct question by saying, "The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can go, Dr. Newton."

She sighed as though finding the proceedings extremely tedious. "Yes, I served on the jury that acquitted

Mr. Lozada. You must know that or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"That's right, I do. In fact I've interviewed all eleven of your fellow jurors."

"Why?"

"Curiosity."

"About what?"

"It struck me that Dr. Howell's murder looked like a contract kill. His killer didn't rob him. We can't isolate any other motive. Fact is, his only known adversary was you."

Taken aback by that statement, she exclaimed, "Lee and I weren't adversaries. We were colleagues. Friendly colleagues."

"Who quarreled constantly."

"We had disagreements, yes. That's hardly--"

"You were a friendly colleague of his who recently let a contract killer back onto the streets."

"Mr. Lozada's crime was alleged,'" the attorney said in typical lawyer fashion. "Which has no bearing on this matter one way or the other. Dr. Newton, I insist you say nothing more."

Wick fast-forwarded through the argument that ensued between the attorney and Oren, who evidently persuaded the lawyer that it would be in his client's best interest 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 con

vince 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 attrac tive woman and stare at her," Wick had continued. "He's a creep." "He's a creep who looks like a movie star." "Of The G.o.dfather 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 sa.s.sy 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 tired, he thought. It had been a long day for her. He knew. He had been there when her day began.

Chapter 5.

Bennie leaned against the counter and rolled the bottle of cold water across her forehead. It had been years since deep-breathing exercises were necessary for her to regain her calm. Years, but she hadn't forgotten how terrifying it felt not to be in absolute control.

For the last three weeks her life had been in disarray.

The disintegration of her carefully structured life had begun with the jury summons. The day after receiving it through the mail, she and a group, including Lee Howell, had been gathered in the doctors' lounge. When she told them about the summons, they had groaned collectively and commented on her rotten luck.

Someone suggested that she claim to have young children at home.

"But I don't."

"You're the sole caretaker of an elderly parent."

"But I'm not."

"You're a full-time student."

She hadn't even acknowledged that suggestion.

"Throw the d.a.m.n thing away and ignore it," another advised her. "That's what I did. Figured it would be worth the fine, no matter how steep, if I didn't have to appear."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. They never follow up on those things, Rennie.

They run hundreds of people through there each week. You think they're going to take the time and effort to track down one no-show?"

"I would be the exception. They'd throw me in jail. Use me as an example to those who try and dodge their civic responsibility." Thoughtfully, she twirled the straw in her soft drink. "Besides, that's what it is. A civic duty."

"Please." Lee groaned around a mouthful of vending-machine potato chips. "It's a civic duty for people who have nothing better to do. Use your work to get you off."

"Work is not an exemption. That's printed in bold letters on the summons. I'm afraid I'm stuck."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "They won't choose you."

"Wouldn't surprise me if they did," another male colleague had chimed in. "My brother's a trial lawyer. Says he always tries to seat at least one good-looking woman on every jury."

Rennie returned his wink with a scathing glare. "And what if the lawyers are women?"

His smile collapsed. "Didn't think of that."

"You wouldn't."

Lee dusted salt off his hands. "They won't choose you."

"Okay, Lee, why not? You're just itching to tell me why I'd be an unsuitable juror, aren't you?"

He counted off the reasons on his nimble surgeon's

fingers. "You're too a.n.a.lytical. Too opinionated. Too outspoken.

And too bossy. Neither side wants a juror who could sway the others."

That was one argument Rennie would have gladly let Lee win. She had been the second juror picked from forty-eight candidates, and then she'd been voted forewoman.

For the following ten business days, while paperwork mounted and her patient load got backlogged, her time had belonged to the State of Texas.

When it ended, her relief was short-lived. Through the media, the verdict had been criticized by the district attorney's office. Nor had it won the approval of the average citizen, Dr. Lee Howell being one.

He had voiced his opinion at that Friday night cookout.

"I can't believe you let this joker off, Rennie. He's a career criminal."

"He's never been convicted," she'd argued. "Besides, he wasn't on trial for previous alleged crimes."

"No, he was on trial for executing a prominent banker, one of our fair city's leading citizens. The prosecutor was asking for the death penalty."

"I know, Lee. I was there."

"Here they go," said one of the other guests who'd gathered around to eavesdrop on what was sure to be a heated debate. "The staunch conservative and the bleeding-heart liberal are at it again."

"We jurors were informed going in that the DA was asking for the death penalty. That wasn't the reason we voted to acquit."

"Then how was it that you twelve decided to let this creep walk instead of giving him the needle? How could you believe for a second that he was innocent?"

"None of us believed that he was innocent. We voted him not guilty. There's a difference."

He shrugged his bony shoulders. "The distinction escapes me."

"The distinction is reasonable doubt."

"If it doesn't fit, you must acquit. That bulls.h.i.t?"

"That bulls.h.i.t is the foundation of our judicial system."