July 15, Wednesday
WEDNESDAY'S QUESTIONS were the kind that made me realize how small and uneventful my life had been.
The judge worked through them methodically, both attorneys watching from their tables with the focused expressions of people running their own internal spreadsheets.
"Do you have any relatives or close friends employed in law enforcement?"
"No," I said.
"Any prior employment in law enforcement yourself?"
"No."
"Any relatives employed by a prosecutor's office or the courts?"
"No."
"Any connection to organized crime?"
"No."
"Gang activity?"
"No."
I was acutely aware that I had spent forty-two years in complete ignorance of the criminal underworld. No brushes with corruption, extortion, or bribery. I'd never been a victim of a mugging, car-jacking, or home break-in.
The shadiest thing that had ever happened in my orbit was when the HOA president redirected the landscaping fund to his own patio, but I decided not to mention it.
"Have you followed any media coverage of this case?"
"I've caught mentions of it in the news," I said. "But honestly, I didn't follow the details."
"What about social media? Do you use platforms where coverage of ongoing trials might appear in your feed?"
"I deleted my Facebook and Instagram accounts recently, so that's no longer a concern."
"Can you tell us when you did that?"
"About eight months ago."
He looked up briefly. "Any particular reason?"
I felt my face heat up. "I was going through a divorce, and I needed to step away from social media."
"I understand," he said. "You may return to your seat."
I did, with one eye on my watch. I'd promised Dr. Anders I'd gather my family long enough to have a conversation about our new normal, and I didn't want to be the one who didn't show. I'd sent reminders to Warren, Josh, and Lily but so far no one had responded.
Not a promising sign.
When the judge dismissed yet more jurors and thanked them for their time, I watched them gather their things with expressions of barely concealed relief.
"The rest of you," he said, "let's do this again tomorrow."
I navigated rush hour and pulled into the driveway with time to spare, but another car was blocking the garage door.
Scott's car.
I frowned because Lily knew my stance on the two of them being alone in the house. I opened the door with dread, then yelled, "Lily? I'm home."
It took way too long for her to come to the top of the stairs. Her face was flushed and she was smoothing her hair down. "Mom, hi."
Scott appeared behind her. "Hi, Mrs. Good."
"Hi, Scott," I said pleasantly. "Time to head home, okay?"
He loped down the stairs and walked past me.
"Your shirt is on inside out," I informed him.
He looked down, flushed in realization, then bolted out the door.
I looked up at Lily. "You know how I feel about you being alone with Scott in your bedroom."
"God, Mom, we were just listening to music."
"Uh-huh."
"Did they cut you loose from the jury?" she asked.
"Not yet."
She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. "What a drag. Do you even get paid to do this?"
"Some. Not much."
"Then why do it?"
I blinked up at her. "Because it's my civic duty, like everyone." I tapped my watch. "We have therapy in a few minutes. Have you seen Josh?"
"Dad took Josh to the FIFA game. Last-minute tickets." She picked up her phone. "So."
With effort, I squashed my supreme frustration and pivoted. "So we can do a session just the two of us."
"No." She said it simply. "Mom. I think you should do this one alone. Josh and Dad and I are all totally fine."
She drifted back toward her room with the unhurried energy of someone who considered the conversation concluded.
I stood in my own living room, keys still in my hand, fairly certain that "we're all totally fine" was the least fine sentence she'd ever said to me.