Ricochet Read Free

arranged his robe. He scooted the tray holding a drinking glass and a carafe of water one-half inch to his right and adjusted the microphone, which needed no adjustment.
    Once the jury had filed in and everyone was situated, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the delay, but a matter of importance had to be addressed immediately.”
    Cato Laird was a popular judge, with the public and with the media, which he courted like a suitor. Nearing fifty, he had the physique of a thirty-year-old and the facial features of a movie star. In fact, a few years earlier he had played a cameo role of a judge in a movie filmed in Savannah.
    Comfortable in front of cameras, he could be counted on to provide a sound bite whenever a news story revolved around crime, criminals, or jurisprudence. He was speaking in that well-known, often-heard silver-tongued tone now. “Mr. Adams has brought to my attention that during voir dire, juror number ten failed to disclose that her son is enrolled in the next class of candidate officers for the Savannah–Chatham Metropolitan Police Department.”
    Duncan glanced at the jury box and noticed the empty chair in the second row.
    “Oh, jeez,” DeeDee said under her breath.
    “The juror has admitted as much to me,” Judge Laird said. “She didn’t intentionally try to deceive the court, she simply failed to recognize how that omission could affect the outcome of this trial.”
    “What?”
    DeeDee nudged Duncan, warning him to keep his voice down.
    The judge looked in their direction, but continued.
    “When seating a jury, attorneys for each side have an opportunity to eliminate any individuals who they feel have the potential of swaying the verdict. Mr. Adams is of the opinion that a juror whose family member will soon become a police officer may have a fundamental prejudice against any defendant in a criminal trial, but especially one accused of this particularly egregious slaying.”
    He paused, then said, “I agree with counsel on this point and am therefore compelled to declare a mistrial.” He banged his gavel. “Jurors, you are dismissed. Mr. Adams, your client is free to go. Court is adjourned.”
    Duncan came out of his chair. “You have got to be kidding!”
    The judge’s gaze sought him out and, in a tone that could have cut a diamond, he said, “I assure you I am not kidding, Detective Hatcher.”
    Duncan stepped into the aisle and walked up it as far as the railing. He pointed at Savich. “Your Honor, you cannot let him walk out of here.”
    Mike Nelson was at his elbow, speaking under his breath. “Dunk, calm down.”
    “You can retry the case, Mr. Nelson,” the judge said as he stood and prepared to leave. “But I advise you to have more solid evidence before you do.” He glanced at Duncan, adding, “Or more credible testimony.”
    Duncan saw red. “You think I’m
lying
?”
    “Duncan.”
    DeeDee had come up behind him and taken hold of his arm, trying to pull him back down the aisle toward the exit, but he yanked his arm free.
    “The pistol was real. It was practically smoking. The woman was real. She jumped to her feet when I came in and—”
    The judge banged his gavel, silencing him. “You can testify at the next trial. If there is one.”
    Suddenly Savich was in front of him, filling his field of vision, smiling. “You blew it again, Hatcher.”
    Mike Nelson grabbed Duncan’s arm to keep him from vaulting over the railing. “I’m gonna nail you, you son of a bitch. Etch it into your skin. Tattoo it on your ass. I’m gonna nail you.”
    His voice rife with menace, Savich said, “I’ll be seeing you. Soon.” Then he blew Duncan an air kiss.
    Adams hastily ushered his client past Duncan, who looked toward the judge. “How can you let him go?”
    “Not I, Detective Hatcher, the law.”
    “
You’re
the law. Or rather you’re supposed to be.”
    “Duncan, shut up,” DeeDee hissed. “We’ll redouble our search for Lucille Jones. Maybe the