“By your investigating the hundred and fifty people whose names have been selected as prospective jurors so we can weed out the ones who won’t while identifying the ones who will.”
“A hundred and fifty prospective jurors?” he repeated, his voice rising a full octave from its deep bases.
“The original jury pool was close to seven hundred,” she added. “The others were dropped after a preliminary questionnaire established they had either heard or read about the case, had hardship circumstances that prevented them from serving, or were relatives or friends of law enforcement or others connected with the case.”
“How long did that take?”
“Two months. Judge Gimbrere told Staker and me in a pretrial conference last week that we had to select our jury from this panel. He was adamant that he would not call up any others.”
“How long do I have to investigate these people?”
“Formal jury selection starts in six weeks. We have to gather every piece of information we can about these people by then in order to know which twelve we want sitting in the jury box.”
“You want me to investigate a hundred and fifty people in addition to gathering the evidence to prove Bruce killed Amy and discovering his motive for pursuing Connie, and do it all in six weeks?”
“Yes,” Diana said as if she was making an everyday request. “Everything has to be done before we go to trial.”
Now he knew. The next move was his.
Jack rested casually against the back of his chair, the index finger of his right hand gliding along the rim of his iced tea glass. Whatever he was thinking was well hidden behind his disguise.
As the silence lengthened, the waiting became more difficult for Diana to bear. She looked away from him to stare at the blur of people passing by on the sidewalk below.
Jack had to know that she’d asked him to accomplish the impossible. A team of professional trial consultants would probably be able to give her a thumbnail sketch on a hundred and fifty prospective jurors in the time available. But not even they could provide the kind of in-depth analysis she required in order to know whom she could trust with Connie’s life.
If such an analysis was even possible. Diana had no idea. But she couldn’t ask anything less of Jack. Connie’s life was at stake.
The Court had approved the expense for only one private investigator. Her motion requesting a trial date extension had both led to an immediate grunt of “no” from Judge Gimbrere and an undisguised snicker from Staker.
She was doing what she had to do. And Jack was going to have to do what he had to do. Chances were good he’d be getting up and walking out any minute now.
A part of her wouldn’t blame him. And, yet, she acknowledged that another part of her would be very disappointed.
A few hours ago she’d been hoping he would walk out on this case so she could get someone better qualified. But that was before she’d seen him with Connie. He hadn’t simply gotten her client to talk. He had listened to her story with compassion.
Diana realized now she’d been overlooking a key ingredient to Connie’s successful defense. Jack had the most important qualification a private investigator could have on this case—a firm belief in the client’s innocence.
What was she going to do if he walked out?
Diana started when Jack suddenly downed the contents of his glass, grabbed the check and stood.
Her heart sank. He was getting ready to run.
Jack whipped off his sunglasses and smiled at her in pure, unbridled enthusiasm. “Come on, Diana. We’re wasting time sitting around here. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JACK COULDN’T BELIEVE what a great case this was.
He had an interesting mystery to solve, some mind-boggling investigative work to do, and he was being given a chance to help a nice woman who was far more of a victim of a crime than a perpetrator. Finally, after enduring nearly a decade of being thrust into villainous roles, Jack had been cast as a hero.
Hot damn. He couldn’t wait to get started.
Of course, Diana had given him an impossible task. But what the hell, that was half the fun. The only thing that gave him pause was the fact that they’d be working very closely together for the next six weeks.
She was an alluring combination—strong, smart and sexy. He also liked the fact that she was genuinely committed to helping her client, instead of taking the easy way out as that slimeball Earl Payman had done.
Hard-core morality in a woman turned Jack on big-time.
But his decision not to get involved with women who had children had been based on painful practical experience and important soul-searching. He knew who he was and what he wanted out of life.
Which meant that his relationship with Diana had to remain strictly business. He could handle it. In the past, he’d worked with a lot of desirable women who were out of bounds for one reason or another. Keeping his hands to himself had never been a problem.
He couldn’t suppress a smile when he remembered the surprised look Diana had given him in the restaurant when he’d accepted the case. As he had surmised when they’d met back in her office, she had underestimated him.
In a way, he was glad. There was something so poised about her that being able to rock her erroneous assumptions was irresistible.
He’d agreed to meet with her the next morning to get a copy of the sheriff’s report on Bruce Weaton’s death and a picture of the deceased, discuss strategy on his investigation and to pick up the list of the prospective jurors. Now he had to see about getting whatever evidence might exist in Bruce’s garage into the right hands.
After having listened to Diana’s description of George Staker, Jack knew that if he gathered the evidence against Bruce, Staker would do everything he could to make the jury question the validity of both Jack’s abilities and the evidence. The fact that Jack had once been an actor would be something Staker would no doubt use against him as well.
But if a sheriff’s detective got the evidence, Staker couldn’t challenge the findings because he’d be challenging his own source pool.
Diana had agreed with Jack’s assessment of Staker. But she’d initially balked at what Jack had planned to do to foil Staker. Convincing her had taken some effort.
Jared, Jack’s twin, was a detective in the sheriff’s department. Jared had no respect for the elected sheriff, Bernard Riker, whom he considered a politician, not a lawman.
Jack knew that if he gave his twin a lead in Amy’s hit-and-run, Jared would track down the truth, no matter where it led.
Jared was his own man. He’d started out as an FBI agent—as their dad had—but chucked the rigidity of the Bureau for the comparative freedom of Silver Valley County where it was a little easier to apply common sense to law enforcement.
Jack’s older brothers, Richard and David, often exchanged information with Jared on a quid pro quo basis when they worked on cases. That sharing had helped Jared make more collars in three years than most other deputies did in a decade on the job.
When he helped his brothers at the family’s private investigation firm, Jared insisted on only two things. First, they were to be discreet about his “cooperation.” And, second, if he ever had to testify in court about what he’d been asked to do, he had to be able to tell the truth.
He would go out on a limb for family or in the hot pursuit of justice. But he wasn’t going to lie under oath for anybody, not even to get himself or a family member off the hook.
Jack