Leigh couldn’t speak. She could only look at his mouth. Tammy Karlsen had talked about the derisive curl of his lips behind the ski mask. Now, he was clearly enjoying the fact that he was making Leigh squirm.
He continued, “Because it seems to me that a person who had a sexual experience as a teenager wouldn’t necessarily be inclined to believe an adult sexual experience that got a little out of hand is a bad thing.”
Leigh bit her lip to keep herself from correcting him. Nothing had gotten a little out of hand. Tammy had nearly been destroyed. Andrew had known exactly what he was doing.
“Something to think about.” Andrew shrugged, but even the up and down movement of his shoulder was tightly controlled. “You’re the expert. I leave the decision to you.”
Leigh stood up. She walked over to the credenza. A mini fridge was behind the cabinet door. She took out a bottle of water, asking Andrew, “Thirsty?”
For the first time, light flickered behind his eyes. His excitement was almost palpable, like a predator stalking fresh prey. He was soaking in her discomfort, reveling in her anxiety.
Leigh turned her back to him. Her hands were trembling so badly that she could barely twist the cap on the water bottle. She took a long drink. She sat back down. She returned to the safety of her well-rehearsed speech.
“So, as I was saying, we get a specified number of challenges to dismiss jurors, some for cause, some for people we just don’t like. The prosecutor gets the same number. At the end of the process, we’ll have twelve jurors and two alternates picked for your trial.”
Leigh’s breath ran on the last word. She coughed, trying to cover her jitters. “Sorry.”
Andrew’s dark gaze covered her face like a veil as she took another drink from the bottle.
She continued, “One of our associates, Jacob Gaddy, will be second chairing me. He’ll navigate the paperwork and some of the procedural details . I’ll use him to interview a few of the witnesses. At the table, I’ll sit on your right, Jacob will be on your left. He’s your attorney, too, so if you have any questions or comments while I’m performing interviews, then direct them to Jacob.”
Andrew said nothing.
She kept going. “During voir dire, all of your potential jurors will be watching you. The case can be won or lost in that moment, so I need you on best behavior. Hair trimmed, nails clean, face shaved. Make sure you have at least four clean suits ready. I expect the trial will last three days, but it’s good to be prepared. Wear the same mask every day. The one you had on yesterday from the dealership is fine.”
Reggie stirred in his chair.
Leigh willed him to stay silent, telling Andrew, “The judge will probably give you the option of taking off your mask once the trial starts. We can go over the rules if it comes to that. Keep your expression as neutral as possible. You need to show the jury you respect women. So when I talk, you need to listen to me. Pull out my chair. Carry any boxes—”
“Wouldn’t that look bad?” Reggie chose this moment to contribute to the defense. “I mean, some jurors might think Andy’s putting on an act, right? So, what you’re talking about, the sharp suit and the slick haircut? All of that could turn the jury against him.”
“It’s hard to know.” Leigh shrugged, but she found herself wondering about Reggie’s motivations. This clearly wasn’t a blackmail situation. Otherwise, Reggie would’ve kept his mouth shut and let Andrew burn in whatever fire Leigh was trying to set. That left money. Reggie had agreed to perjure himself on the stand. He knew that could mean anything from losing his license to losing his freedom. The risk must’ve had a very high reward.
She told Andrew, “This is your trial. It’s up to you. I can only make recommendations.”
Reggie tried another pop quiz. “Would you put him on the stand?”
“It’s his decision,” Leigh said. “But if you want my opinion, no. He’s not likely to come across well. Women won’t like him.”
Reggie guffawed. “ Dude can’t walk through a bar without every bitch in the room giving him her number.”
Leigh turned all of her attention onto Reggie. “Women in bars are looking for a reasonably clean, gainfully employed man who can string two words together without sounding like a jackass. Women on juries have a different agenda.”
Reggie’s belligerence was out in the open now. “Which is?”
“Compassion.”
Reggie didn’t have a response.