Chapter 10 #2
Michael’s day began at seven in a meeting with the jury consultants they’d hired to help them empanel the twelve citizens most likely to convict the Benedettis.
They pored over demographic reports, census information, and a PowerPoint presentation that outlined the consultants’ idea of the perfect jury.
We’ll never get it, Michael thought.
The defense had an ideal jury of its own, and he could guarantee it looked nothing like the one on the screen. In one week, the battle would begin. If they were lucky, they would get half the ideal citizens the consultants identified.
With the meeting heading into a fourth hour, Michael excused himself and left it in the capable hands of his second chair, George Samuels.
Michael had just returned to his office when Tom Houlihan knocked on the door.
The picture of an up-and-coming politician, Tom had close-cropped blond hair, blue eyes, and a boyish face that made him look much younger than his fifty years.
Michael respected the hell out of the guy and didn’t like the expression on Tom’s face as he closed the door.
“What’s up?” Michael leaned back in his desk chair and gestured for his boss to take a seat.
“I heard you had quite a weekend.”
“He didn’t waste any time,” Michael said through gritted teeth.
“He’s upset. His daughter’s upset. His wife’s upset.”
Michael hated having this conversation with his boss, of all people.
Tom put both hands on Michael’s desk. “Here’s the deal, Michael.
Your personal life is none of my business, and I told the Admiral the same thing.
What is my business is the trial you’re starting one week from today.
You’ve just broken up with your fiancée, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t ask whether your head’s in the game the way it needs to be right now. ”
Michael didn’t blink when he replied. “It is. The trial is all I’m thinking about. You don’t need to give it another thought.”
Tom studied him for a long moment before he said, “Good. You know my door’s always open if there’s anything I can do for you in the next few weeks.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
“Oh, just one other thing. I saw the report this morning from Rachelle’s detail. You had someone with you last night who wasn’t on the list. What’s up with that?”
“She’s a friend who was with me when George called me in. Rachelle took a liking to her and wants me to bring her again. I’ll get her on the list.”
“I don’t have to remind you to be careful.”
“I’d never do anything to endanger her, Tom.”
“I know.” Tom hesitated before he added, “Are you all right? You know, the thing with Paige and all…”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Tom nodded. “Carry on then.”
As Michael watched him leave, his cell phone vibrated on his desk.
He checked the caller ID to find that Paige was calling again and ignored it.
She had left six hysterical messages on his voice mail since he left her house on Saturday night, and he had no plans to call her back.
He had twenty minutes until a meeting with his ballistics witness, which was just enough time to review the report one more time.
The phone on his desk rang. “Maguire.” He pulled the file he needed from a sloping pile.
“Michael.”
He groaned. “Not now, Paige.”
“You have to talk to me.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“But we’re engaged…”
“We’re not engaged. Not any more. The wedding is off. I’ll talk to you, but not until the trial’s over. Not one second before. Am I clear?”
“What am I supposed to do until then?”
“Maybe you should spend the time thinking about what you’re going to do with your life. It’s time you figured that out, don’t you think? Now, I have a meeting, and I have to go. Do not call me at work again. I mean it, Paige.”
“Michael, please.”
He slammed the phone down with a vicious swear.
“Everything all right in there?” his assistant called.
“Yes,” he hissed.
Juliana let herself into the house on Collington Street that had been her home for the last four years.
As she shut off the alarm, she almost felt like she was breaking into Jeremy’s house and was amazed at how disconnected she felt from him on just her first full day without him.
She checked the mail and paid a few bills from a joint account they opened when he was sent to Florida.
He provided the money, she wrote the checks.
After the chaos of her family life, Juliana had always loved this house. Jeremy’s mother had taken impeccable care of it, and they put their own stamp on it. But after seeing Michael’s home, it just seemed boring in comparison. It had none of the charm or style of his place.
Juliana went upstairs to the bedroom and moved fast to pack what she wanted to take to Michael’s.
The bedroom was full of memories—the candles on the bedside table, the framed photos of her and Jeremy, his clothes hanging next to hers in the closet.
She picked up a photo of them taken at the beach the summer before.
Studying his tanned, smiling face, she wondered if he had wanted other women then, too.
Breathless from the pain, she put down the photo and hurried through the packing.
She rushed back downstairs with two bags, weak with relief that she had found somewhere else to live for the time being since there was no way she would’ve been able to stay in their place after what happened.
She reset the alarm and locked the door.
On the walk back to Michael’s house, she took several deep breaths to settle her rattled nerves.
Making her way up Chester Street, she noticed a man standing outside of Michael’s house, looking up at the front door. He was young and might have been Hispanic. “Can I help you?” she asked, startling him.
“You live here?”
She nodded.
His eyes narrowed. “Just you?”
A prickle of fear crept down Juliana’s spine. “Yes,” she said since there were people close enough on the sidewalk to come to her rescue if necessary.
He looked her over again and then walked away.
Juliana hurried up the stairs, her hands shaking as she used the key. Inside, she locked the door, dug Michael’s business card out of her purse, and called his cell phone.
“Hi,” he answered. “Everything going okay?”
“Yes, thanks.” She hesitated, wondering if she was overreacting.
“Juliana? What is it?”
“I, um… I had kind of an odd encounter on the street a minute ago, and I thought you should know about it.”
“What kind of encounter?”
She relayed the conversation with the man on the street. “I thought of what you said about them watching you, so that’s why I told him I live here alone.”
“Juliana!” His distress came right through the phone. “I appreciate you trying to protect me, but you shouldn’t have put yourself in jeopardy like that! What if he had grabbed you or something? Are you all right?”
“I am now.”
“What did he look like?”
She described him.
“Doesn’t sound like any of the Benedetti’s known associates. Since he didn’t really do anything threatening, I can’t see the point of calling the cops.”
“I guess not. I just thought you should know. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother,” he said, still sounding rattled. “You were right to call me. Thanks for what you did, but don’t do anything like that again. I want you to be careful.”
“I will be. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll see you tonight.”
Michael hung up with her, picked up his office phone, and dialed Tom Houlihan’s direct line.
“Hey, it’s Michael. I need you to authorize a cop at my house until the trial is over.”
“I thought you’d turned down protection.”
“A guy on the street outside my house just asked my roommate if she lives there alone. He gave her the creeps. And I’ve had the feeling I was being watched a couple of times lately when I was on the street.”
“Consider it done,” Tom said.
“Thanks.”