he caught her talking in front of the jury room.
Two of her fellow jurors entered behind the bailiff.
As she watched the bailiff approach, Lily decided to go ahead. If she was going to reveal what had happened, what difference did it make if the bailiff overheard? Maybe she could let the court know what had happened to her, and Castellano could be arrested for jury-tampering.
“Bill, what if I told you that—” The door opened again, and when she saw who entered, terror sheared her breath.
Sauntering in behind the jurors was a skinny man with sun-darkened skin and coal-black eyes. He leered at her and bared his teeth.
Just like last night. It was him. The Cajun. Lily’s throat closed up. She couldn’t breathe at all.
Behind him came another man—taller, broad-shouldered and confident. It was the Cajun’s tall, menacing partner. His gaze met hers and he frowned. His eyes were a piercing blue, she noticed abstractedly.
He gave a quick, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
She froze, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Her fingers tightened reflexively around the ceramic mug in her hands. He was warning her.
She looked from him to the Cajun.
“Lily?” Henderson raised his bushy brows.
She sucked in a long breath and forced herself to face her dad’s former colleague. “N-nice to see you,” Lily stammered as the bailiff stopped in front of her.
“Good morning, Ms. Raines,” the bailiff said.
Lily nodded jerkily.
“I’ll let my father know you asked about him,” she said to Henderson, stepping backward into the room. Her voice was too loud, but she couldn’t help it.
Please don’t say anything, she silently begged Henderson.
More people entered the hallway. The Cajun and his partner passed the door. The Cajun’s black eyes sparkled and he made an offhand gesture at the level of his neck. Lily read his message loud and clear. She touched her throat where the point of the Cajun’s knife had pricked her the night before.
The other man kept his gaze averted, but she felt his presence, his overwhelming attention, and she remembered that he’d stopped the Cajun from hurting her— twice.
She watched the back of his head as he followed the Cajun through the door into the main corridor of the courthouse. Just as he stepped inside, his head angled, as if acknowledging her gaze.
She shuddered, her stomach flipping over. They had to be here checking on her. There was no way she could escape them. They would be there through every minute of the trial. They’d watch her when she went in and out of the jury box. And anytime they wanted to, they could hurt her father.
She ducked inside the jury room, her stomach rebelling at the black coffee she’d swallowed. How would she make it through the day, much less the whole trial?
“WHAT THE HELL’S the matter with her?” Foshee said.
Brand bit back a curse. He knew exactly what Foshee was talking about.
Lily looked as if she might faint and fall right out of her chair. Her face was pale and her eyes had dark circles under them. Her dark hair hung limp and straight around her face, and she clutched the armrest of the jury box chair so hard he could see her whitened knuckles from across the room.
He bent his head and whispered to the shorter man. “She didn’t sleep. She’s probably so scared she’s sick, and I can see the bruise you left on her jaw from here.” You stinking little bully, he added silently.
“Whassup wi’ you, Brand? You sweet on her?” Foshee grinned, showing crooked, stained teeth.
“Nah. Guess I just know better than you how to handle a lady.”
“Zat so?” Foshee angled his head. “Mebbe I let you handle her after I finish wit’ her, eh?’ Cause if she don’ straighten up, she get herself kicked off the jury. See how the DA’s watching her?”
Brand clenched his fists. He’d already noticed. The Assistant District Attorney in charge of the case had been watching Lily all morning, probably worried about the same thing Brand feared. She was so pale and drawn. Was she about to faint?
It was time for the ADA’s summation to the jury. He looked at Lily again, then whispered to his co-counsel. Brand could imagine what they were saying.
They wouldn’t want a sick juror, or one who was terrified, helping to decide the fate of Sack Simon. They had to be sure all the jurors were capable of coherent thought and rational reasoning.
Brand had been there through the jury selection and voir dire. There were two very competent alternates waiting in the wings. The ADA could easily replace Lily.
After another few seconds of whispering, the ADA nodded at his colleague and stood. “Your honor, may we approach?”
Brand stiffened. This was about Lily. He knew it. What if the ADA demanded she be excused from the jury? What would Castellano do then?
He wished he could catch her eye, but after last night, anything he did would be interpreted by her as a threat. If he even made eye contact with her, she would faint.
The judge and the two attorneys consulted while eleven jurors fidgeted. Lily sat stiff and still, her too-wide eyes watching the lawyers and the judge talk. Every so often, her gaze would flicker toward either him or Foshee.
He saw her throat move as she swallowed nervously.
Get yourself together, Lily, he begged her silently. They’ll kill you.
Then the defense attorney glanced their way with a tiny smile.
The lawyers returned to their seats and the judge rapped his gavel. “We’ll recess until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”
Brand let out a deep sigh.
“What’s going on?” Foshee asked in surprise as they stood while the judge left the bench.
“We just dodged a bullet. I’m guessing the ADA was asking to excuse juror number seven.”
Foshee’s black eyes glittered. “We gonna have to pay our girlfriend another visit?”
“No,” Brand said quickly. “Look at her. She looks better already. She’s exhausted and scared to death. A good night’s sleep and she’ll be okay. She just needs some time.”
“Mais, oui. We call her, eh? Tell her good-night?”
Brand shook his head. “Leave her alone, Foshee. You hurt her. You scared her half to death. Trust me, she got the message. Let’s give her a day to think about it. She’s smart. She’ll come around.”
They
