“I need to check everyone’s personal contacts from their jury forms and then I’ll let y’all deliberate for another hour or so. At that time, Judge Sam is going to call you back to the courtroom and end the proceedings for the day and give you instructions about the sequestration.”

As everyone processed what was to come, Tamara Robbins piped up: “Wait, we’re not going home?”

“No, you will be sequestered at a hotel over the weekend and until you reach a verdict.”

Donna Passerine: “But my kids . . .”

Carla Mirlo: “I have to go back to work . . .”

Helen Klais: “My mother-in-law has a heart condition and I take care—”

“I know, folks, but y’all just got to be patient while we make arrangements.” Sergeant Redman got a static call on his radio, which he ignored by reaching on his belt to turn down the volume. “There is, however, a shortage of hotel rooms in downtown Dallas so we may be heading out toward the airport. Not sure, but once I reach everyone on this contact list, I’ll give them instructions for bringing you fresh clothes and toiletries. Any questions?”

Anne realized this was partly a ploy by Judge Sam. He wants a verdict. The case has gone on long enough. Lord knows Pat and Dan will return to a feral state in one weekend without me. I just have to ride this out for the next vote. Get to nine to three or ten to two, and then the room will tip.

Sergeant Redman checked off the names on the contact list and moved toward the door.

“Thank you, folks. Officer Lippett is still posted outside the door. If you reach a decision or need to hear testimony reread, just knock three times. Otherwise expect me around five p.m. to bring you back into court.”

When the bailiff left the room, Caruthers sighed with annoyance. “This trial has been a huge ordeal for me and my business.”

“Me too,” Keller added, all the men nodding whether it was true or not for them.

Yes, all that vital time away from your port-a-john empire in Mesquite.

“Frankly we need to get this thing done.” Caruthers folded his arms and leaned back.

The good Dr. Ferris stopped him there. “I think we all feel the same way. So listen, let’s get to our assignment here. The law requires the district attorney to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. You probably know what I think, but let me be clear. I’m not voting for Standing Raleigh as man of the year. And I do have my suspicions, but I sure as heck don’t think we have the evidence to convict.”

The jurors turned to Anne for rebuttal.

“He confessed. The suicide note is a confession. We don’t need perfect evidence if—”

“But he doesn’t admit it.”

“He says everything without saying it.” Because even in confession, he’s a coward.