4. The Jury Read online

  Charles frowned. “Myra, I don’t…”

  Myra held up her hand. “Don’t go there, Charles. Nellie and I have been friends for fifty years. Good friends. Actually, we’re more than good friends; I’m her daughter’s godmother. Our husbands died within months of each other. We’ve laughed together, cried together, applauded each other and our daughters were best friends, too. That alone makes us closer than close. Nellie’s more like a sister than a friend. The way Nikki and Barbara were like sisters.”

  “Myra…”

  The soft warning in Myra’s voice was something Charles had never heard before. “I told you, Charles, do not go there. I’m calling Nellie to come out for dinner. And I want you to…to stay out of sight. I’ll call ahead and have her pick up some of our favorite Chinese from the Imperial Dragon.” Myra’s voice softened. “It’s all right, Charles, I know what I’m doing. I know you don’t always think I do, but this time I really do know what I’m doing.”

  Charles chuckled at her words, but he sobered almost instantly when he saw the sudden bitterness in her eyes that didn’t match the soft tone in her voice. He felt a chill ricochet down his back when he realized Myra meant what she said about hanging horse thieves and people who abused animals. Just the way she’d meant it when she said she wanted to take on the justice system to correct their mistakes by forming the Sisterhood years ago. She’d acted on that thought, too. The chill stayed with him as he made his way to the war room where all missions of the Sisterhood were planned, plotted and executed.

  Charles looked around his domain. It was so state of the art that it sometimes boggled even his mind. If only they’d had half of what was in this room years ago when he was in Her Majesty’s Service, his cover might not have been blown. He’d been the best operative at MI6 and was on first-name terms with the Queen. It had been the Queen’s decision to send him to America with a new identity when his cover was blown, to ensure his safety. He hadn’t come empty-handed, though. He’d brought a list of contacts from across the world — old friends, operatives still in the intelligence business, as well as retired operatives who were only too glad to offer assistance when he requested it, just to keep their hands in.

  In his youth, before going into Her Majesty’s Service, he’d had an intense relationship with Myra when she was living in England with her parents. Because of her youth, Myra had had no say when it was time to return to the States. She’d gone back to America, her heart broken as was his, only to find out when she got there that she was pregnant. At her parents’ insistence she’d married William Rutledge, who died ten years later.

  Charles had had no knowledge of her pregnancy or the birth of his child until he started to work as the chief of security for Myra’s candy company — a post arranged by MI6. And the rest was history. To this day, he had no idea if the Queen knew of his relationship with Myra or not. He rather thought she did.

  How he’d loved Barbara and Nikki. Myra had wanted to tell Barbara that Charles was her real father, but he’d been against the idea. She had loved William Rutledge and Charles saw no reason to add to her grief by telling her that he wasn’t her biological father. But then Barbara had died not knowing that Charles was her real father. How he regretted that decision now.

  His shoulders heavy, Charles finished his glass of iced tea. Wool-gathering was for other people who lived and dwelled in the past. He needed to get his thoughts together and get on with the business at hand. Myra would do whatever she wanted to do, regardless of what he said.

  Federal judge Cornelia Easter arrived in a luxurious chauffeured town car complete with two female security guards. Myra winced at this new development. Nellie had told her that not a day went by when she didn’t receive a death threat. She was philosophical about it, saying it’s just the world we live in today.

  The whistle in her hand, Myra blew two sharp blasts. The silent guard dogs that had been circling her feet raced off to the barn. Myra nodded at the driver to show it was safe to get out of the car.

  Judge Easter was a buxom, round little woman with springy curls and twinkling eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her voice was raspy from too many cigarettes and her fondness for good whiskey, but only after hours, as she always said.

  After the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek, the judge looked around in the late-afternoon sunshine and said, “God Almighty, Myra, when did you turn this place into such a fortress?” She pointed to the razor wire atop the electrified fence, the new state-of-the-art security gates and, of course, the pack of guard dogs.

  Myra’s expression grew vague. “A while ago. We had a few spots of trouble a while back. It’s more a precaution than anything else. How are you, Nellie?”

  “I’m fine, Myra, but I’ll be a lot better once you serve me some refreshments. Make it a double.” She turned to the security guards and their shopping bags full of Chinese food. “Girls, go in the house and watch television. I’ll be on the terrace. That goes for you, too, Malcolm. This is my down time. If I need you, I’ll call. Go along now. We discussed this exact situation on the ride out here. As you can see, there’s all kinds of security here. Do as I say,” Nellie said in her best courtroom voice, which had cowed many a lawyer. The security detail was no different; they scattered.

  “We have a year’s worth of catching up to do, Myra, so let’s get to it. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I’ve been out here to the farm.”

  Nellie plopped down on one of the more comfortable chairs, her eyes sharp and keen as she watched Myra pour whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler. “Skip the ice and the water. Today I need it straight up.” She took a healthy gulp before she set the glass back on the table. “Talk to me, Myra.”

  “I thought we’d go for a ride after you finish your drink. You have riding clothes upstairs in a closet and we still have two hours of daylight.”

  “That sounds like a plan. How’s Nikki?”

  “She’s coming home tomorrow,” Myra said as she fiddled with the glass in her hand.

  Nellie sighed. “Jennifer was really worried Nikki wouldn’t be here when she has the baby. Four more days, Myra, and I’ll be a grandmother. Then the christening will be in two weeks, with Nikki being the godmother. Jennifer wants Jack Emery to be the godfather. I know, I know, but these young people have minds of their own. Then, six months later, I retire and kiss that black robe goodbye.

  “They’ve been friends since high school. The four of them went through college and law school together. The girls stuck together when Nikki decided to open her all-female law firm, and Jack went to the District Attorney’s office. When Barbara was alive you couldn’t find a closer group of girls. I have to tell you, Myra, Jennifer has kept me apprised of the goings-on in that firm since Nikki went off to…to…recover. She’s on maternity leave now, but she keeps her hand in. What in the world was Nikki thinking when she hired that troublesome woman? It’s just my opinion, but she would have been better off to leave Barbara’s position open.”

  Myra chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know, Nellie. Nikki doesn’t even know what happened. Charles and I will tell her when she gets home tomorrow.”

  “She doesn’t know? Myra, for God’s sake, why didn’t you tell her? Nikki’s a trooper. She would have kicked that young woman’s ass right out of the firm the minute she got wind of what was going on.”

  Myra took a sip of her drink. “That happened later, Nellie, after she was gone. Don’t think Charles and I haven’t agonized over this. We have, night and day. Our primary concern was Nikki’s physical and mental health. Don’t think I’m not dreading the moment I have to tell her what happened with the Barringtons. Aren’t you finished with that drink yet, Nellie? It’s not like you to be so slow.”

  Nellie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m done. See?” she said, upending the squat glass. “It will take me five minutes to change. Leave the bottle right there on the table. I have a feeling I’m going to need a triple when we get back. Am I spending the night, Myra?”

&
nbsp; “I think that might be wise if you plan on drinking your dinner.”

  The round little judge walked over to Myra. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Nellie, I…No, you aren’t going to like it.”

  Nellie reached up to put her hands on Myra’s shoulders. “For some reason, Myra, you always seem to underestimate me. Having said that, don’t be so sure. Five minutes and I’ll be ready to go riding.”

  Myra sighed. “You’re a good friend, Nellie. What is it, fifty years?”

  Nellie laughed, a robust sound. “Fifty-one and a half years. We met in Miss Dupré’s dance class. Neither one of us could dance worth a damn back then. We were ten years old. Time does fly, doesn’t it?”

  “Sometimes, Nellie,” Myra said sadly, “time crawls by.”

  Two

  Nikki was ready to pull her hair out by the roots when a small boy of ten or so came running down the path to her bungalow.

  “Telephone, Missy. Come quick.”

  Nikki tossed the magazine she’d already read twice onto the floor of the porch and raced after the little dark-haired boy. She handed him a dollar bill and smiled. He grinned as he scampered off to play show-and-tell with his friends. She was breathless when she picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Nikki, it’s Charles. I’m sending the Gulfstream for you, so pack your bags. Someone will drive you to the airstrip at first light. I hope you’re ready to come home.”

  Nikki sighed with happiness. “Charles, I am so ready you cannot believe. I’ve read fifty-six books since I’ve been here. I will probably never read another work of fiction for the rest of my life. I’ve watched over a hundred videos, some of them two or three times. I have snorkeled so much I’ve grown fins. I’m totally sick of sunshine. I long for a gloomy, wet, rainy day, the kind you used to have in England. I can’t wait for a thunderstorm! I’ve been sleeping twelve hours a night and take naps in the afternoon. But despite all that activity, I’m bored out of my mind. Are the leaves starting to turn back home?”

  Charles smiled at the wistful tone in Nikki’s voice. He knew all about homesickness. “The leaves are just starting to turn. The evenings this past week have been cool. One of the neighboring farms has been burning leaves so the scent is in the air. The weather people are predicting a hard frost by the weekend. The produce stands are full of pumpkins. Myra insisted I buy two the other day. We carved one and put it on the porch to welcome you home. I made two pies with the other one.”

  Charles heard Nikki suck in her breath before she asked her next question.

  “Has Jack given you any trouble?”

  “No. If he still has us all under surveillance, he must also be bored out of his mind. Nothing has gone on at Pinewood since you left. Myra and I did take a road trip, and we attended the Truckers’ Ball because Myra insisted. But this time we did not leave the house and grounds unattended. Alexis and Isabelle stayed here and kept an eye on things. I’m hoping Mr. Emery gave up on us.”

  “No such luck. He’s out there. He’s just waiting. Trust me when I tell you he knows everything you and Myra have been doing. How is Julia and when is she coming back?”

  “Julia’s progressing well and will be staying at Pinewood on her return. She will arrive home the day after tomorrow. You might find this of interest. Julia treated herself to some plastic surgery six weeks ago. Just enough to alter her appearance so she doesn’t look like the old Julia. And she dyed her hair blonde. She e-mailed a picture and, I must say, I had to look twice to realize it really was Julia. She’s quite beautiful.”

  Nikki’s voice turned wistful again. “Good for her! How’s her plant doing?”

  Charles knew Nikki was trying to keep him on the phone as long as she could. “Myra repotted the plant and it’s thriving. It has three trailing vines so Myra clipped them and rooted them in the center of the pot. I think it looks lush, and I know Julia will be more than pleased.”

  “Is everyone OK? What about Alexis’s new boyfriend?”

  Charles laughed. “As it turned out, the new boyfriend was allergic to dogs, so Alexis bid him adieu. She didn’t seem too brokenhearted at the breakup. She said it wasn’t hard to make a decision because she does love that animal. And before you ask, Isabelle has managed to get several small jobs with her reinstated license. Yoko and Kathryn are keeping busy with their lives, doing what they do to earn a living.”

  “I’ve missed you all so much. I can’t wait to get home. Did you put a candle in the pumpkin, Charles?”

  “We did but we haven’t lighted it yet. Now, I suggest we curtail this phone call so you can pack. Myra sends her love. By the way, the girls will all be here tomorrow to welcome you home. Julia, of course, won’t arrive until the next day. I’ll say goodbye for now.”

  Nikki wiped at the tears trickling from the corners of her eyes as she hung up the phone. Her step was light as she made her way down the path bordered with crimson bougainvillea and fragrant gardenia bushes. She sprinted toward the lagoon where four white swans moved gracefully back and forth. She raced across the bridge that would take her back to the cottage she’d called home for almost four months.

  The small, private island was a place to come to on a honeymoon or with a lover. A place of beauty, a place of peace and contentment. A place to lick one’s wounds. A place to heal. How wise Charles and Myra were to send her here, even though she hadn’t thought so on her arrival. Back then, she’d thought of it as a punishment. Now she realized how close she’d come to a complete mental breakdown. But that was all behind her now.

  She was going home. Back to her town house, back to Charles and Myra at Pinewood, back to her law firm and to all her new friends in the Sisterhood.

  Home.

  The best place in the whole world.

  Nikki ran across the tarmac, dragging her oversize duffel bag on wheels toward the town car that waited for her. She was breathless as she watched the driver pop the trunk to toss her bags inside.

  She was almost home. She felt giddy at the thought.

  The driver was an older man with white hair and a bristly white mustache. He held the door for her, nodding curtly. Inside, before he started the engine, he leaned over to say, “Mr. Martin said I was to take you either to Georgetown or to McLean. If you opt for Georgetown, I am to call him.”

  Nikki leaned back into the softness of the plush seat. She closed her eyes. “I’d like to go to Georgetown. Do you have the address?”

  “Yes, miss, I do. Georgetown it is.”

  Nikki snuggled into the corner of the car, wishing she’d worn a long-sleeved sweater. She estimated the temperature to be in the low sixties. By tomorrow or the following day her dark tan would disappear. Not that she cared. Hugging her arms to her chest, she watched the landscape go by, recognizing this and that as the town car took short cuts to avoid the rush-hour traffic.

  Forty minutes later, Nikki exited the town car to a mass of swirling leaves. The sudden gust of wind made her laugh, her hair blowing in all directions. She tipped the driver twenty dollars when he set her bags in the small foyer inside the door. The town house smelled musty and stale. Still, it was her home no matter what it smelled like.

  Nikki ran around the rooms, rolling up blinds and opening windows. Within minutes she’d stripped her bed and was headed toward her compact laundry room on the first floor.

  The refrigerator beckoned. She snorted at the contents. A bottle of wine, two bottles of beer, a six pack of Evian water and an unopened can of coffee. Since she’d be going to Pinewood tomorrow there was no need to go grocery shopping. She could hardly wait to order a pizza with the works. She knew she’d scoff it down in a heartbeat. It was going to be a very, very long time before she ate mangoes, pineapples, bananas, fish and island vegetables again. Ditto for the fruity drinks that had been part of her diet for four long months.

  Nikki lugged her two duffel bags into the laundry room and dumped them. Since they were full of summer attire, there was no
need to hurry with the laundry process. She did, however, remove her cosmetic bag and carried it back upstairs where she made up her bed with fresh linens from a zippered bag in her linen closet. The sheets smelled like lavender, her favorite bedroom scent. Jack had always liked the way her bed smelled. It was going to be a pleasure to slip between the sheets tonight. Her gaze dropped to her nightstand where there was a picture of herself and Jack sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. She should put the picture away. Maybe she should throw it away. She’d wanted to, many times, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Now she didn’t stop to think. She picked up the picture, snapped the back into place and then pushed it as far back in the nightstand drawer as it would go. Don’t think about Jack, she cautioned herself. She sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped her head into her hands.

  “Copping out, eh, Nik?”

  Nikki’s head jerked upright. “Now you show up! Where were you when I needed you on that damn island, Barb?”

  “I was there but you didn’t need me. You did just fine on your own. That was the purpose of the whole exile thing, Nik.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure, easy for you to say. Do you have any idea how hard that exile was?”

  “Now that’s a really dumb question to be asking me. Of course I know how hard it was. I’m not exactly among the living, you know. Do you really think putting Jack’s picture in a drawer is going to change anything?”

  “No, I guess not. It just makes it easier if I don’t have to look at it. I don’t need any pep talks where Jack is concerned. I’ve got my emotions under control. I don’t know what happened to me to make me…cave in like that.”

  “Every single person walking the earth has a breaking point, Nik. You met yours head-on. It won’t happen again. I think Mom just hit hers.”

  Nikki’s voice turned shrill. “What does that mean? Is something wrong with Myra?”