Page 1 of Jury Woman, Part 4 of 6

October 1, Thursday

COURT WAS dark today, and for once there was no holiday or judge's errand to blame. The reason was me.

While the other jurors enjoyed an unexpected morning off at the hotel, I rode downtown in the back seat of Deputy Wells's sedan. Neither of us spoke the whole way. By nine-thirty I sat in a leather chair in Judge Arnold's chambers, knees pressed together, handbag clutched in my lap like a girl waiting outside the principal's office.

Lorna McDavid had the chair to my left and Bryan Stone the one to my right. Detective Jack Terry sat off to the side with a legal pad balanced on his knee, his tie knotted dead center this morning. Deputy Wells stood by the door. I didn't look at him. I couldn't.

Judge Arnold swiveled his monitor toward me. "Ms. Good, is this your daughter's account?"

There was Lily, lips pursed in a selfie, her cheer hairbow perfectly angled. Beneath it:

When your mom gets picked for jury duty and suddenly you're basically an orphan for six months 😭😭 thanks federal government. Dad has made dinner twice and that was DoorDash. #FreeMyMom #WorstSchoolYearEver

Then a comment: WAIT is she on that huge trial downtown???

And Lily's answer: I'm not allowed to say lol.

I read it twice. It wasn't what she'd described on our call. She hadn't named a trial or used the word important. She'd been more clever than that. She'd left the door cracked and let somebody else push it open, then answered with a reply that denied and admitted everything.

"Yes, Your Honor," I said. "That's Lily."

"Public account," McDavid said, not bothering to look at me. "Fourteen hundred followers. The reply has been screenshotted at least twenty-nine times that we know of."

Stone spread his hands as if he were addressing a jury. "Judge, it's a teenager complaining about eating takeout. There isn't one word in there about this case."

"There's a mother gone six months and a big trial downtown," McDavid said. "This syndicate has found jurors with less information."

My cheeks went so hot my ears ached. Everyone in that room was looking at the post, but I felt them measuring the woman who'd raised the girl who wrote it. Dad has made dinner twice. In seventeen years I'd made roughly six thousand dinners, and apparently this was my legacy: a hashtag.

Across the room, Deputy Wells didn't move. He'd heard Lily's See you soon! last night. He knew as well as I did that this hadn't been carelessness. My daughter had planned this hoping I'd be kicked off the jury.

"Ms. Good," the judge said, gentler now. "Before we go further, I'll ask you directly. Do you wish to continue serving on this jury?"

The easy answer rose in my throat. I could say no, spare everyone the paperwork and the hearing, and let Alternate Number Two take my seat. McDavid would be relieved, the court would move on, and Lily would get her mother back by suppertime.

Still, I hesitated.

My entire life I'd been the one who bent. I bent around Warren's hours, the kids' schedules, and my mother's illness before any of that. I'd surrendered every weekend and most of my opinions. Didn't all that buy me something? Not gratitude, since I'd stopped expecting that long ago. Just a little loyalty in return. I was asking for one thing that was mine, one thing my family would let me finish.

"Yes, Your Honor," I said. "I'd like to stay."

McDavid's pen paused. Stone smiled at me like a man whose horse had just crossed the finish line.

Judge Arnold studied me over his glasses for a long moment, then turned. "Detective Terry, I'd like you to speak with the daughter and her father. Find out who that commenter is, and if she's told anyone else. Then report back to me."

Terry nodded and wrote something short.

"And Deputy Wells." The judge's gaze moved to the door. "Go with him. A post like this can put a family on someone's map. I want your eyes on that house: the street, the locks, who comes and goes. If there's a security risk, I want to know it before anyone else does."

"Yes, sir," Wells said.

My stomach did a slow, unhappy roll. Wells, inside my house. He'd see the chore chart still taped to the fridge, ignored. He'd see Heidi's protein powders in my pantry, and my clothes exiled to the guest room. He'd meet Warren in person. He'd watch Lily perform whatever version of herself she decided on, and he'd see Josh chewing his nails down to the quick.

Everything he'd only overheard through a laptop speaker, he was about to walk through.

"Until then," the judge said, "Ms. Good remains seated."

In the corridor afterward, Deputy Wells fell into step beside me.