Aiden reached up and kissed me. “You are such a softie.”
I rolled my eyes and motioned for Pucci to follow me to the defense table. I sat between him and the prosecuting attorney’s table.
The judge handed off case files to his clerk, who handed him a bigger one. “Let’s get this going. We’ll have the same jury pool from yesterday, and I’ll have them take seats in direct opposite of last time.”
Fourteen people filed into the seats in the jury box. In Idaho, a jury was usually on the hook for a week, so they might hear many cases. The clerk came over to my table and handed me the list of who was in which seat, and I rifled through my notes on the jury questionnaire while Alice did the same.
Voir direwent off without a hitch, and I started to enjoy myself. While I’d never been in trial, I’d actually won the mock trial at law school. The prize had been a mountain bike, which I’d given to Pauley because he’d been interested in mountain biking at that time.
Then we were to opening arguments, and Alice’s was good. She planted a nice question in the minds of the jury as to why a felon would own a survival business that included learning to shoot guns.
I stood up, introduced myself, and acted like my guy was a saint. I didn’t like it. Yet the spirit of competition gave me a boost, and frankly, I didn’t like that either. Even so, I smiled at the jury of seven women and three men. “My client does a service to the community, to many communities, and that’s what we want, right? He has others deal with the guns, and he works with the survival aspect in the wilderness.” Pucci had explained that to me when I’d asked. I finished up and took my seat.
“You’re not bad,” Pucci said.
I didn’t answer.
The state called the guy Pucci had gotten into a fight with to the stand first. His name was George Dorsey, he was around forty, and he had a beer gut. His story was exactly what the charges had been. Alice got the story from him without my having to object often. Then she tendered the witness.
I smiled and stood. “Mr. Dorsey, how long had you been in the bar?”
“A couple of hours,” Dorsey said, his blond hair slicked back and his face clean shaven.
“What were you drinking?”
“We had a couple pitchers of beer between the four of us,” he said.
I paused because I’d read the entire police report. “Just beer?”
He frowned. “We may have had a shot or two of Jaeger.”
One woman in the jury box shifted her weight. I ran him through the night, the bars they’d been to before that, and the fact that he grabbed Krissy by the butt. He adamantly denied it. I made a mental note to run through Krissy’s statement again.
We worked through the afternoon, and the judge called an end to the day at around four o’clock, right after the state finished its case.
“We’re on tomorrow,” I told Pucci as we exited the courthouse. “Make sure both Krissy and Kelsey are here to take the stand.”
“No problem.” His hand rested at my waist as we walked outside, and I looked around for Aiden. “If you’re looking for your man, he had business to deal with,” Pucci said. “However, I’m fairly free right now. Why don’t we go get a drink and celebrate the day? I think it went well.”
“No, thanks.” It had gone well. I’d been able to successfully cross-examine all of the state’s witnesses and show that they’d pretty much been drinking all day.
“Your loss.” Pucci released me as Krissy hurried our way.
She handed my car keys to me. “We had your car brought in, and here are the keys.”
“Where’s Aiden?” I asked.
“Haven’t seen him.” Then she leaned in and kissed Pucci. “We need to celebrate what looks like a good day, based on that smile you have going.”
He had a smile going because the jerk had just made a move on me.
Pucci nodded. “All right. See you tomorrow, Anna.” He slid his hand into the back of her linen pants, and they walked away.
I sighed and dug out my phone to call Aiden. It went instantly to voice-mail. The man was driving me crazy. He’d finally agreed to let me in, and now he’d disappeared. What business? Even if I had asked Pucci, he wouldn’t have answered.
So I turned and strode along the sidewalk to my former office building, heading inside.
“Hey Anna,” the receptionist said. We’d been buddies since I saved her picture of Stan Lee from a DEA raid the month before. “What’s up?”
