The Jury

by Fern Michaels

“When Mom died, I wanted to lash out and kill something. But how do you kill a disease? I fixated on the doctors. They didn’t know what they were doing; they didn’t give Mom the right medicine. I blamed everyone and everything, especially you because you weren’t there for me to lean on. I was a mess, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jack. Did the doctors really mis-treat your mother? If they did, we can go after them.”

  “No, they didn’t. It was me. I wanted to blame someone. You know how it goes when someone passes away. You can’t accept it so you try to place blame. Like I said, how could I kill a disease?”

  “Does that mean you’re really going to leave us alone? You won’t interfere with what we’re doing? I want your word, Jack.”

  Jack reached for her. “You have my word, Nikki. I will not interfere. Jesus, did you really help to skin that guy? Damn, I would have paid to see that.”

  Nikki snuggled into the crook of Jack’s arm. “Yes, we did that. It’s what pushed me over the edge. Every time I think of Barbara — remember her laugh, how tough and yet how gentle she was, the baby she was carrying — I know I’d do it all over again if I had to. We avenged her death, but we didn’t kill anyone…I need to know why, Jack.”

  Jack didn’t pretend he didn’t understand the question. “Because I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I finally realize you aren’t going to stop so you need someone to cover your butt. I’m that someone.”

  “Jack…”

  “Shhh.”

  Six

  Nikki came out of the bathroom wrapped in towels from head to toe. Jack leered at her.

  “I do like sarongs.”

  “Don’t go there. I have to run, Jack. I really do, so don’t start something neither one of us can stop. Are you going back to McLean today?” she asked, hoping to divert Jack’s lascivious thoughts.

  “No. I have to scrounge around and find an apartment between now and Monday. I also have to pick up my car at your office. Do you think you can drop me off before you head out to the farm?”

  “Sure, no problem…Stay here, Jack. I won’t even charge you rent.”

  Jack backed up a step. His expression seemed to turn inward. “Do you mean stay here as in stay here, or do you mean move in as in move in?”

  Nikki did a little wiggle as she settled her jeans more firmly over her hips before she pulled up the zipper. “As in move in. Like you put your stuff next to mine in the closet, you get half the vanity and half the drawer space. We take turns grocery shopping, I do the cooking, you do the cleanup. We each do our own laundry.”

  Jack rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. “I thought this was all supposed to be a secret. Did I miss something?”

  Nikki pulled a thin-knit cherry-red sweater over her wet head. She laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. “I never said it was supposed to be a secret, Jack. Are you saying you’re having second thoughts, or is it that you’ll have to grocery shop? I’ll make you a list so all you have to do is go into the store and pick it up.”

  “I assumed…Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Are you going to tell the others what we agreed on?”

  Nikki ran a brush through her hair before she slid her feet into a pair of clogs. “I wasn’t planning on announcing it if that’s what you mean. Now, if someone should ask me outright, I’ll decide at that time. My personal life is my personal life, just like my secrets are my secrets.”

  Jack looked befuddled. “But what about Myra?”

  “Myra is my mother. She loves me and wants what’s best for me. You are what’s best for me. Myra is the one person I will not lie to. I will not bail out on you if that’s what you’re worried about. I love you, Jack. Hurry up and shower, I have to get to the farm.”

  “OK, boss. When am I going to see you again?” he called over his shoulder.

  Nikki poked her head in the door of the blue and white bathroom. “I don’t know, Jack. I’ll call you. Do you want some coffee?”

  “Yeah, make it to go.” As an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

  Nikki laughed all the way to the kitchen. She made the coffee by rote, her mind on the past hours with Jack. For some crazy reason she felt like singing.

  He came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. He smelled good. She turned and melted into his arms. “You really are OK with this, aren’t you, Jack?” she whispered against his chest.

  “I’m OK with it,” he whispered back. “What about your ring?”

  “I can’t wear it on my finger just yet. But I am wearing it. See?” Nikki said as she pulled out her slim gold chain with its sparkling diamond from under her sweater. “Come on, Jack, we have to get moving.”

  Together, hand in hand, they ran from the town house, their coffee sloshing over the sides of the cups. Neither cared.

  In the parking lot of her office, Nikki squeezed Jack’s hand before he hopped out of the car. The moment he was clear of the passenger door, she peeled out of the parking lot. Her destination: Pinewood.

  As always, the women greeted Nikki with exuberance. She felt guilty at the relief on Myra’s and Charles’s faces. She should have called. Well, she couldn’t change that now. “Where’s Julia?” she asked, her eye going to the luscious green plant sitting under the skylight.

  Myra brought Nikki up to date. “We last heard around dawn. Julia is resting comfortably. It was a minor stroke. The doctors expect a full recovery — if Julia cooperates. She wants to come home but the doctors don’t think that’s advisable at this time. A few more weeks and we’ll know more. She sends her love and her regrets.”

  Something good happens: Jack. Something bad happens: Julia. Life was just too damn short not to live it to the fullest. Nikki knew right then that she hadn’t made a mistake where Jack was concerned. She didn’t trust herself to speak so she simply nodded. Later, when she was alone, she’d pray for Julia.

  “Would you like some breakfast, Nikki?” Charles asked. “I still have some pancake batter left. I’m sorry to say that Grady and Murphy finished the bacon.”

  “Coffee’s fine. I’m sorry I’m late and I know I should have called. I’ll tell you all about it when we go downstairs to the war room.” She waved her arm about to indicate someone on the outside might be listening.

  “We can clean the kitchen later,” Myra said. “Since we’re off schedule by twenty-four hours, I suggest we get right to it.”

  It was an admonishment directed at her. Nikki knew it and accepted it as she fell into line behind Myra and Charles as they led their way to the living room and the secret opening that would take them down to the high-tech room that they all referred to as the war room.

  Charles bent over and pressed a small rosette in the molding before he stepped aside, allowing the wall to move on its well-oiled track.

  The women’s chatter ceased as they went to their assigned chairs at the round wooden table. In front of each chair was a bright-red folder with Nikki’s name emblazoned on the cover. They seated themselves as Charles walked up the two steps to his station in front of a bank of computers that would have put the White House to shame. He pressed a switch and three large monitors came to life with the scales of justice spread across the screens. Charles pressed the remote control a second time and three major twenty-four-hour news networks came to life, the sound muted.

  Myra called the meeting to order and then deferred to Nikki, her gaze expectant.

  For some reason, Nikki felt more relaxed than she had in months. She didn’t bother to stand, but instead spoke from her seated position. “I know you all more or less expect my mission to be about Jack Emery. It isn’t. We’ve handled Jack for our last three missions and there’s no reason to think we can’t continue to outwit him. He’s not going to do us in by an end run at this stage. If he attempts it, we’ll cut him off at the knees.

  “My mission is the Barringtons and the horses at their farm. The main reason I was late getting out here was because of Allison Banks, an
attorney I hired before I left in the spring. I made a mistake hiring her. I admit that. Against my office manager’s instructions, she accepted the Barringtons as clients. I fired her and then I pretty much assaulted her. I even broke her nose and she bled all over her brand-new pale-blue Armani suit. She’s going to sue me, the firm and each of my colleagues, plus my office manager. I can handle that, and I’m only telling you as it’s background.

  “Allison billed astronomical hours, something any other law firm would be grateful for. I am not grateful. The Barringtons paid their bill in full. There appears to be a rumor going around that Allison Banks was either given or promised a large sum of money if there was an acquittal. While in my employ, she could not accept it legally. Now that I’ve fired her, she can, if the offer was ever on the table to begin with. As I said, it is a rumor. Most rumors usually have a seed of truth to them. Just for the record, the Armani suit set her back around four thousand bucks. Unless she has a trust fund, she couldn’t afford Armani on what the firm was paying her. According to my office manager, Allison had eleven such suits and she wore one to court each day. Her shoes were Bally, her handbags Chanel. Do the math.

  “Supposedly, Ms. Banks was seen at a little hideaway inn in Fredericksburg with Judge Robert Krackhoff, who presided over the Barringtons’ trial. At the moment, that rumor can’t be nailed down. I’m hopeful that eventually it will be confirmed.

  “Kracker, as we call him, should have recused himself from sitting on the bench but he didn’t. He has horses he boards, or did board, with the Barringtons. They are friendly and that’s why he should have recused himself.

  “McLean is horse country. I’m the president of the Virginia Equestrian Society. I’m not sure about this, but I think I’m in the process of being impeached because my firm represented the Barringtons. Our clients have fled our offices like we have the plague. There are no new clients walking through our doors. Had I been here, my firm would never have agreed to represent the Barringtons. In case you’re interested, I’ve heard that Allison Banks can pretty much name her price in the District now. It’s my understanding that legal firms, some of the biggest in Washington, are standing in line to hire her.

  “Now, somehow, some way, the Barringtons have a new herd of horses. What they do is buy two or three high-priced horses that will turn them a profit in the right market. They drive down that high price by taking on other horses whose bloodlines aren’t up to their standards and then let them starve to death.”

  Nikki felt breathless. She looked over at Myra. “If I left anything out, tell me now. My mission is this: I want those horses moved to safety and I want the Barringtons to pay for what they’ve done to all those defenseless animals. They have to pay for that. I want Myra’s and my reputation restored. And I want Allison Banks to lose her license to practice law.”

  Kathryn’s eyes popped. “This is a pretty hefty mission, Nikki. How many horses are there? Do you mean for us to steal them? I think it’s going to be pretty hard to steal a horse, let alone a herd. Horses are big! What do you want for the Barringtons?”

  “I don’t have the answers. I said it was what I want. The six of us should be able to come up with a solution with Charles’s help. As for the Barringtons, if I had a wish it would be that they spend the rest of their lives shoveling horse shit from pile to pile. A never ending pile. Help me out here, girls.”

  “How much are the horses worth?” Alexis asked.

  Nikki shrugged. “There’s no way for me to know. You can ask Myra, she might have heard something. Remember, I just got back so I’m not up on the details.”

  “I really don’t know, dear. I can try and find out. Charles is still trying to find out who sold them these particular horses. What I do know is there are nine horses in the pasture and, if I remember correctly, there are three high-priced animals in another pasture. So, to answer your question, there are at least twelve. However, I haven’t seen all of them. For all I know, they could have been sold off already.”

  “Are we going to have to ride horses? I do not think I can do that,” Yoko said in a jittery voice.

  “Get over it, kiddo. You thought you couldn’t ride a motorcycle but you did. Just think of a horse as a cycle with four wheels. Instead of turning a key, you say giddyup and the horse moves,” Kathryn said and grinned.

  Charles cleared his throat. “It’s time for me to show you who the Barringtons are. If you look at the monitor, you’ll see the aerial photos we took of the Barrington farm. There are pictures of piles of bones of other horses that were starved to death. It isn’t a pretty sight and the pictures were taken by the local police. The bones you will be seeing have since been buried by local volunteers.”

  Picture after picture appeared on the oversized monitor. The women all wiped their eyes from time to time. Nikki sat quietly, her body rigid, her face grim. Suddenly, she jumped out of her chair and bellowed, “I want that scummy judge who was bought off to pay, too!”

  “Whoa!” Kathryn said, holding up both hands to stop whatever else Nikki was about to say. “I know this is your mission, Nikki, but it’s a three-parter. How can we do all that? Hell, I’m up for it, but we could be spreading ourselves pretty thin here. Remember Julia isn’t here, so there’s only six of us. Seven, if Charles goes active.”

  “Then Charles is going to go active. It’s what I want,” Nikki snapped. “How about if we offer to buy the nine horses through a third party?”

  “We already thought of that, dear,” Myra said. “The Barringtons don’t answer their phone or their door. The property is covered with No Trespassing signs. We’ve left letters in the mailbox at night. There’s been no response from the Barringtons. I don’t see any other way except to steal the horses. I’m sure Charles will come up with a plan. He’s been in contact with many people these last few weeks.”

  “Maybe we could get them out through the tunnels,” Nikki suggested. “There must be an opening in their barn just like the opening in our barn. Do you know, Myra?”

  “How strange that you should bring that up, Nikki. Just last week, at the meeting of the Historical Society, Marion Cunningham and I were discussing our ancestors. My ancestors never owned slaves. We had paid workers, as did the Cunninghams. Both of our families aided the runaways via the tunnels. I thought the tunnels ended at the Barringtons’ place, but Marion said they went all the way to their farm. Her section of the tunnels was added at a later date because they made it easier to get the slaves to the underground railroad. She did say the tunnels were never shored up and she herself never explored them, nor did her children. She doesn’t know how they work or where the Barringtons’ tunnels connect to hers.”

  Nikki looked up at Charles. Her eyes were full of questions.

  “The steps are too steep, Nikki,” was Charles’s response.

  “Maybe Isabelle could design a ramp of sorts. One going down, one going up. We just need two. There has to be a way. Possibly concrete to hold their weight. I don’t know, Charles, I’m grasping at straws. All I know is I don’t want those horses to starve.”

  “They aren’t going to starve. Myra and I have been feeding and watering them at the fence line. Soon as the horses see us, they come to the fence. I don’t know where the foreman is. We haven’t seen a sign of him in the three weeks we’ve been feeding and watering the horses.”

  Nikki and the others were outraged. “Did you report the neglect?”

  “Of course we reported it, but with no results. The police don’t want to leave themselves open to a lawsuit. The Barringtons won their case, remember? We even took the police out to the pasture and showed them how we fed and watered the horses. Do you know what they said? They said that the horses didn’t look neglected and looked healthy as a matter of fact. We wanted them to get a search warrant but they refused that, too. No probable cause. The horses looked fine. Thanks to Myra and myself.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “Right where we were when we entered this room.
I’m working on things. It’s ten thirty now. We can reconvene at three this afternoon. At that time, I hope to have some news for all of you. Before you leave, I want to see a show of hands as to whether or not we proceed with Nikki’s mission, all three parts of it.”

  Six hands shot in the air.

  “Good. Be back here promptly at three o’clock.”

  The women filed out of the room, mumbling among themselves. Nikki’s mission was now on the front burner.

  Seven

  Jack Emery looked at his belongings. A huge pile of stuff, half of which could be thrown away if he was so inclined. He wasn’t. It had taken him three trips, loading his car to the top, to get all his stuff here. Now, he had to put it all away. No way was all this stuff going to fit in his half of the closet, his half of the dresser and his half of the vanity. Probably what he should have done was rent a storage locker somewhere. He shook his head. Storing his stuff would mean that when he wanted something, he’d have to scramble and drive all the way to the storage place to get it. There was a basement of sorts and a crawl space overhead. That would have to do for the time being. Maybe Nikki would assign him some more space later on.

  Nikki. God, how he loved her. But that love was going to cause him some mega trouble. He could already feel that trouble starting to sprout. Mark had looked at him with questions in his eyes although he didn’t voice them. Mark had known for weeks now that he was going back to the DA’s office, but what he didn’t know was Jack’s plan to move back to the District. All things considered, Mark had taken the move in his stride, especially when he’d ponied up his half of the rent for two months until Mark could find a new roommate. All he’d offered by way of explanation was that he was moving in with a friend.

  He’d no sooner squared that part of the deal away than his reporter friend, Ted Robinson, called to invite him for a drink at Squire’s Pub, the Post’s watering hole. An army of ants went on the march in his stomach when he let himself think about the why of the invitation. Well, he still had an hour. With any luck he could stash most of his stuff and still have time to take a shower and run to the pub. There was no sense giving Ted anything to worry about, at least not yet.