4. The Jury

by Fern Michaels

  Nikki tried not to look at the battered woman but her eyes were drawn to the bruises, the open cuts, her black and blue face, her swollen eyes and split lips. What kind of monster was allowed to do things like this? Someone like Karl Woodley, that’s who, she answered herself.

  The hair on the back of Murphy’s neck went straight up as he raced to the kitchen door. Nikki ran to the door and opened it. Two white-jacketed men and two nurses entered carrying a portable stretcher. No one said a word as Nikki led the foursome into the sunroom. She motioned the others to follow her back to the kitchen.

  Just to have something to do, Isabelle started to make coffee. Then they started to babble quietly to one another. Alexis told them the woman’s identity. The others simply gaped.

  “The bastard!” Kathryn said.

  “And he advises the President of our country!” Isabelle hissed.

  “I saw his picture in the paper a few days ago. He looks like a fat little bully. He probably suffers from a Napoleon complex,” Alexis said.

  “He needs to be taught a lesson,” Yoko said.

  Nikki reached up into the cabinet to get the coffee cups. She turned around, her eyes narrowed. “Yoko, you are absolutely right. And do you know what else? We’re just the little group who could do that. Think about it,” she whispered. “My mission is more or less postponed for the moment. It’s hardly worth our concentrated efforts to go after Allison Banks and Judge Krackhoff. We can go after them later on when Charles finds out where the Barringtons are. Of course, we’d have to agree among ourselves because, in essence, that would give me two missions. Or, if we agree, we can call this one a united mission. I’m sure Myra will vote along with us. What do you think?”

  “I’d personally like to be alone with that guy for fifteen minutes. There wouldn’t be anything left for the rest of you. I’m in. That means you have my vote,” Kathryn said.

  The others agreed with Kathryn just as one of the white-jacketed men appeared in the doorway. In stilted English, the man said, “We will take the lady now to our clinic.”

  “Will…will she be all right?”

  The man looked at her with piercing dark eyes. He said nothing. He made a motion with his right hand. The two nurses were carrying the portable stretcher while the second white-jacketed figure held on to a metal pole with an IV drip. Nikki thought it strange that the women were carrying the stretcher and the men were doing nothing but holding a pole and opening the door. No one said goodbye.

  Yoko poured coffee. “Will we ever know what happens to the lady?” she asked.

  Nikki added cream to her coffee. “I’m sure Charles will tell us at some point. Let’s just be grateful for the moment that we probably helped to save her life.”

  “Why do women stay in such abusive situations?” Isabelle queried. “Why don’t they just leave? There’s all kinds of help out there. I just don’t get it. And another thing, do they even try to fight back?”

  “Fear,” Nikki said succinctly. “If there are children, the women are even more fearful. They suffer the beating hoping the batterer won’t go after the children. Shame. Low self-esteem. It does sound rather lofty to say, why don’t they just leave. Where will they go? How will they live? The batterer always promises not to do it again, and he doesn’t, for a little while, then he starts up again. It’s a vicious circle. I represented too many women in my practice not to know that very few women ever press charges. Mostly out of shame. Most end up going back to their husband or significant other. Anger-management classes are usually mandatory but I haven’t seen them work yet.”

  “But this guy…He’s such a high-profile public figure. How does he get away with it?” Kathryn snarled. “Fifteen minutes with him, that’s all I want.”

  “That high profile, the stress, is probably the reason he gives for using his wife as a punching bag. Batterers threaten the person they’re abusing. Then they play with the abused heads. I can almost guarantee the first words out of his mouth if the wife threatens are, ‘who’s going to believe you?’ That kind of thing. She buys into it. That Paula Woodley finally got the guts to do something is amazing. Maybe this beating was the worst one. Too bad she didn’t do it sooner,” Nikki said.

  “She didn’t say a word to any of us. But her eyes were grateful. I hope there are no children involved in this,” Alexis said.

  “Let’s adjourn to the war room so we can kick this around and come up with a plan,” Nikki said as she picked up her coffee cup to lead the way.

  Inside the war room, all the women slumped in their seats except Nikki, who remained standing. She set her cup down and then walked around the table to push Julia’s chair to the other end of the room. “Move your chairs closer, ladies. The chair will stay there until we find someone to fill it. That may happen, it may not happen.”

  Nikki took her seat and looked from one to the other. “We have voting power. There are five of us. Just because Myra isn’t here doesn’t mean we can’t make decisions and carry through on them. I can access most of Charles’s programs. That means I can find out where Paula and her husband, Karl, live. I don’t know this for a fact but I tend to think the government provides a driver for Karl. That means it’s going to be pretty hard to get to him. I said hard, I didn’t say impossible. We just have to find a way so we don’t get caught.”

  “Won’t that unleash those guys with the special gold shields?” Kathryn asked.

  “Without a doubt. We have to outwit them. Hey, I keep telling you, we’re women. Now, who would you put your money on if you were a betting lady, us or them?” Nikki asked.

  The women chuckled on cue, but they were worried, Nikki could tell. She herself was beyond worried. She hoped the others weren’t sensing her fear.

  Nikki got up and took two steps at a time. She turned on Charles’s computer, the one-of-a-kind computer with so many bells and whistles it looked like it had come out of the White House war room. She turned it on and waited. Then she poked her head over the top of the computer and spoke to the girls.

  “I’m sure there’s a profile of Karl Woodley and his family somewhere. It will be the public profile, not the one they don’t want the public to see. Charles knows how to get that information but I don’t. This will have to do for now. OK, look up at the middle screen.”

  The women leaned forward, trying to envision how the little man they were looking at could do what he’d done to Paula Woodley — until Nikki brought up a head shot that showed Karl Woodley’s eyes. All four women at the round table reared back into their chairs. Their comments were crude, brutal and derogatory.

  “Here’s his stats. Karl Woodley is 52 years old. He went to West Point with the President. He did his stint in the army and then went to the CIA. He’s five feet seven and weighs one hundred and sixty-five pounds. He was on the wrestling team. He likes to sail and the family has a cabin cruiser moored somewhere up the Chesapeake. He married Paula Oxford when he graduated from West Point. The President was his best man. The Woodleys have no children. This is just a guess on my part, but I’d wager old Karl doesn’t have any swimmers.

  “Paula Oxford was an Olympic gymnast but she won only the silver. She’s quite tiny, as we know. She is also the heiress to a shoe-polish fortune. Karl didn’t bring anything to the table. This next picture is a shot of their house but there is no address for security reasons. It’s a Tudor. Looks expensive and lush. It has an Olympic-size pool and tennis court. They have matching Mercedes.

  “Mrs. Woodley is supposedly shy and doesn’t like being in the public eye. Of course, we know why. She likes to garden. Supposedly she has some prize-winning roses. She paints a little. She was quite outgoing and popular before she married Karl. She has a sister who lives in Pennsylvania. No other family is listed for Paula. Karl has two brothers. One lives in England, the other one lives in Washington State. That’s all the information there is for public viewing.”

  Nikki shut down the computer and hopped down the steps to plop onto her chair. “OK, gi
rls, let’s kick it around. No matter how stupid, how inane, spit it out. We might be able to make it work. Kathryn, you first.”

  Kathryn’s face was grim. “He’s going to be impossible to get to. Federal security is tough. Personally speaking, I’d like to get my hands around that fat neck of his and give it a good twist.”

  “If we can’t get to him, maybe we can get him to come to us,” Alexis said.

  “With or without his backup?” Isabelle queried.

  “If the man was worried his sordid activities might get out, he just might be motivated to elude his people to try and shut us up,” Alexis said.

  Nikki stared off into space. “People like Karl Woodley aren’t afraid of innocuous threats, and that’s what he would consider us. Alexis is right, we have to find a way to get him to come to us, minus his security.”

  “Are we sure Mrs. Woodley will not go back to her husband once she recovers?” Yoko asked.

  Nikki shook her head. “There’s no way to know. I guess it depends on how afraid she is. The fact that she allowed Maddie to bring her here must mean something. Abused women almost always have a breaking point. Still, we can’t go by that fact. If Paula’s sister, who is a friend of Maddie’s, hadn’t called her, Mrs. Woodley wouldn’t be here. At this point, we don’t even know how extensive her injuries are. In the end, it doesn’t matter as far as we’re concerned. We’ll take on the mission if we all agree. We’ll be doing her a favor. At least, that’s how I see it.”

  The women’s expressions were glum.

  Nikki looked at them and said, “Listen, I know we’re all sitting here with Julia in the back of our minds. I don’t know this for sure, but I rather think Julia would want us to go on. I, for one, will miss her. She was a bright light to all of us for a little while. If it would do any of us any good, I would be the first one to suggest we go to Switzerland. Julia took care of that by being cremated and having her ashes scattered. She left us with our memories and we have to accept that.”

  Yoko pushed her chair closer to the table. “Let’s get to work.”

  “Let’s give some thought to the sister in Pennsylvania. Maybe there’s a way we can work through her to get to Karl Woodley. Or, maybe we could pretend to be her, call him and simply announce a visit. What could he do? It would get one of us in the house,” Isabelle said.

  “And then what?” Alexis asked.

  “It isn’t as crazy as it sounds. Let’s consider it a jumping-off place,” Nikki said as she reached for a yellow legal pad and pen. “Let’s go first with the worst case scenario and then the best case scenario to see if we can come up with something doable.”

  Fourteen

  Nikki tried to juggle the oversize umbrella that the funeral home had provided. Numb with grief, she did her best not to look at the shiny bronze casket laden with flowers that sat under the green awning. She turned to stare at Judge Easter, Myra and Charles. They looked the way she felt: shocked and numb. She felt her heart flutter in her chest when Myra turned to stare at her. She was hollow-eyed, gaunt, the same way she’d looked when she’d stood at her daughter’s grave years ago. Now she was standing here at her goddaughter’s grave.

  The minister spoke softly, his voice barely audible. Nikki found that strange. Shouldn’t he be shouting his words so the mourners could carry away some comfort?

  If there was anything to be grateful for, it was the private cemetery with no more than a dozen people in attendance. Across from her was Jack, holding a green and white striped umbrella. He was dressed in a dark suit with a pristine white shirt and dark tie. Brad, Jenny’s husband, didn’t have an umbrella. He stood, stone faced, soaking wet. Jack would take care of Brad.

  And then it was over, the small group lining up to walk past the bronze casket. Nikki looked down at the limp yellow rose in her hand. Jenny had loved yellow roses. When it was her turn, Nikki crooked the handle of the umbrella under her arm, the umbrella tilting backward. Her right hand touched Jenny’s last resting place. “Goodbye, old friend.” She laid the limp rose next to the others.

  Disgusted with the umbrella, Nikki closed it and walked toward her car. She stopped at the lead car to embrace Judge Easter, Myra, and then Charles. She knew that Myra and Charles were going back to the farm later in the day. Judge Easter was going to stay with Brad for a day or so and then join Myra at the farm for a while.

  “I’m going to stay in town and will go to the farm tomorrow if that’s all right with you,” Nikki whispered to Charles. “Is there any news on Mrs. Woodley?”

  “Do what you have to do, Nikki. She’ll survive, but she’ll never be the same. We can talk about it when you return to the farm. Myra…Myra is devastated.”

  Like she didn’t already know that. “I know,” was all she said. She saw Jack approaching out of the corner of her eye. She said, just loud enough for him to hear, “I’ll see you back at the farm tomorrow then.” She knew Jack wanted to offer his condolences to Judge Easter so she moved quickly to her car.

  Nikki settled herself in the car, turned the key in the ignition and then burst into tears. Goodbyes were so hard. Final goodbyes were beyond hard. The windshield wipers swiped across but did nothing to clear her vision. Get a grip, she told herself. She did her best to blink away the tears as she inched her car forward to follow the procession out of the cemetery.

  Shivering in her lightweight suit, Nikki turned on the heater, hoping it would warm her cold, wet feet. She craved a long, hot shower. When, she wondered, had she slept last? She couldn’t remember. The cars ahead of her turned right; she turned left and sped down the road.

  “Whoa! Slow down, Nik. I don’t want to have to show up here for a long time. Keep your eyes on the road. I want you to get home safe and sound.”

  “ I don’t want to talk to you now, Barbara. I’m too vulnerable. Why couldn’t the sun shine today? Jenny loved the sun. Remember that year we planted all those sunflowers and gave them names? It’s not fair. You’re both gone. Go away, Barb, I have to deal with this on my own.”

  “I’ll stay with you till you get home. You haven’t slept in two days and you haven’t eaten, either. That’s not a good combination.”

  A sob caught in Nikki’s throat. “Is she there with you, Barb? Is she OK?”

  “Yes, and yes. Keep your eyes on the road, Nik. The weather is terrible. Do you hear me, Nik?”

  A horn blared, warning Nikki that she was straddling the middle line in the road. She moved her foot off the gas pedal and clenched the wheel. One more block to go.

  “OK, kiddo, park this boat and get in the house.”

  Nikki sat perfectly still once she turned off the engine. She was so tired she could barely hold her head upright. Did she just talk to Barbara? Of course she did. What was it Barbara told her to do? Oh, yes, get out of the car and go in the house. She stepped out of the car into an ankle-high puddle. She slogged her way to the curb and up the stairs to her house. She looked up to see that the outside light was on. Jack must have forgotten to turn it off. Maybe he didn’t like the dark any more than she did. She locked her door, kicked off her sodden shoes and padded her way to the steps. She grasped the banister to pull herself forward. In the end she was too tired to climb the stairs so she sat down and leaned her head against the newel post. A second later she was sound asleep.

  An hour later, Jack entered the house. His heart beat faster when he saw Nikki sleeping on the stairs. He shrugged out of his drenched Bur-berry and hung it up. His eyes felt moist when he stared down at the slim young woman in her rain-soaked clothing. In the blink of an eye, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her upstairs. She stirred once, opened her eyes and smiled.

  “Jack.” A second later she was asleep again.

  Jack felt like a doting mother as he stripped off Nikki’s damp suit and then covered her with a flowered quilt. He sat on the side of the bed watching the woman he loved. Satisfied that her breathing was deep and even, he shed his own clothing and then dressed in jeans and a tee shirt.r />
  He’d wanted to stay with Brad, but Brad had said he needed to be alone. All he could do was respect his friend’s wishes. He shuddered when he tried to imagine how he would feel if it had been Nikki carrying his child. In time, Brad would be able to deal with his loss, because life was for the living and Jenny would want Brad to get on with his life.

  Jack looked around the kitchen. He was like a homing pigeon, always returning to the kitchen. He’d read somewhere that a kitchen was the heart of a home. He thought it was true. He walked around aimlessly, trying to decide what he should be doing. When he was a boy, his mother used to tell him to put on his happy face and do whatever he’d been balking at.

  He hadn’t eaten this morning, hadn’t even had coffee. Sustenance. That’s what he needed. He made coffee, toast and scrambled two eggs, which he wolfed down. He cleaned up and then sat down, twiddling his thumbs. Now, what should he do? Maybe he should go into the office. This was, after all, supposed to be his first day back at work, but he’d delayed his arrival because of the funeral. Well, hell, he’d just changed out of his suit and he wasn’t about to change again.

  On his way to the second floor, Jack gathered up Nikki’s shoes, carried them to the laundry room and placed them on top of the dryer. He retraced his steps to the second floor, his thoughts going in all directions.

  He settled himself in a comfortable stuffed chair and watched Nikki as she slept. The rain continued to pour down, lulling Jack into a deep, sound sleep. The morning crawled into afternoon and then into early evening. He stirred when he felt a light touch on his arm. He cracked open one eye and then smiled as he held out his arms. Nikki sat down on his lap and snuggled next to him.

  “How long have you been sitting here?” she asked in a sleep-filled voice.

  Jack looked at his watch. He laughed. “All day. Like you, I guess I needed the sleep. Are you OK?”

  “Personally, I’m fine. I just feel sad that I’ve lost my two best friends. I’m sad for Judge Easter. She lost her only daughter just the way Myra lost Barbara. I know they must be thinking that I’m not blood to either of them, and yet here I am alive and well. I almost feel like I shouldn’t be here. Then again, maybe they aren’t thinking about that at all. And there’s Julia, passing away in her sleep. Two very special people are gone from my life on the same day, so, yes, I’m sad. How is Brad?”