Trial Junkies

questioned by the prosecutor, by Waverly, and even the judge.

He made a game of it, starting his own mental scorecard, trying to figure out who would secure a permanent seat in the box.

The guy with tattoo on his neck?

Not a chance.

The old lady who kept blowing her nose in the middle of the prosecutor's questions?

Nope.

What about the professional 'dancer' with the platinum blonde hair who claimed to have a PhD in psychology?

Not likely.

There were, however, a couple of potential jurors Hutch thought were perfect for the defense-a woman of about thirty, with a subtle motherly vibe, and a sixtyish father of three who kept looking at Ronnie as if his heart was breaking. They both struck Hutch as no-brainers, and he hoped the prosecutor-a burly guy named Abernathy- would quickly bump them.

But to his surprise, Waverly did it first. For cause.

And the 'dancer' got the nod from both parties.

So much for Hutch's instincts.

Earlier that morning he had looked around the courtroom and saw that he wasn't the only one here for the duration. Next to the usual reporters and family and friends, the place was full of what were commonly known as court watchers or trial junkies. People with nothing better to do, hooked on the promise of courtroom drama. Most of them middle-aged or older. Retirees, drop-outs, medical cases.

Hutch figured he was kind of a retiree himself. Had money in the bank, a place to live, and a desire to do nothing but sit here and see Jenny get her justice.

'I guess that makes me something of a trial junkie, too,' he told one of the regulars, who had introduced himself as Gus. About sixty-five and built like an ex-marine, he was once a bailiff in this very courthouse.

Gus shook his head. 'You been here-what? Two, three days now? Some of these people been coming here every day for years. Treat it like a job.'

'Never mind, then,' Hutch said. 'It's just the one trial for me.'

'Mmm-hmm. I've heard that before. You just be careful you don't get hooked.'

Hutch almost smiled. Replace one addiction with another, he thought.

Maybe it would help him stop smoking.

The trial junkies came and went as the jury selection droned on. Another regular was a much younger man than usual, maybe twenty-five or so, who kept to himself. A pasty-looking guy, with thick black-rimmed glasses and a crewcut, who always had a book bag slung over his shoulder and spent his time during breaks buried in the pages of a book.

If Hutch were casting a movie, he'd immediately hire this guy to play the weird neighbor or the creepy stalker. But in truth, he was probably just another lonely soul, looking to fill his time with other people's problems.

When they broke for lunch that third day, Karen Waverly brought Hutch a note from Ronnie.

Hutch and Gus were sitting on a hallway bench, eating vending machine sandwiches-purportedly roast beef- when she approached and said, 'You probably don't want hear this, but my client wants a face-to-face.'

Hutch couldn't say he was all that surprised. He'd figured it would happen sooner or later, with Ronnie seeing him sitting there in the gallery every day.

He stared at the folded slip of paper in Waverly's hand, then took it from her and opened it. There was only one word written across it in flat black ink:

Please

Suddenly overcome by both anger and regret, Hutch crumpled the note and tossed it to the floor.

How dare Ronnie play with him like this.

'You could get a hefty fine for that,' Gus told him. 'Littering on government property.'

'I can afford it.'

Gus seemed to sense the tension and got to his feet, saying, 'See you inside.'

Then he shuffled off toward the courtroom.

Hutch looked up at Waverly. 'Was there something else you wanted?'

'I ran a background check on you.'

'You did, did you?'

'Now I understand why your friend was so shocked at the station house that first night. When I didn't know who you were.'

'If this is a pitch for money, you can go to hell.'

Waverly didn't flinch. 'I wouldn't dream of asking you for money, Mr. Hutchinson. And neither would Ronnie. You made your feelings very clear after the arraignment.'

'Then what do you want?'

'I'm just passing along a message,' she said. 'But I also wanted to tell you that I may've made a mistake.'

'About what?'

'About what I said at the police station. When you asked me if I thought Ronnie was guilty.'

'I don't think there's any question about it at this point. Do you?'

She shrugged, and Hutch got the sense that maybe she'd had a change of heart as well. The exact opposite of his. Which would mean she surely knew something he didn't, because the evidence he'd read about was pretty damning.

'Well?' he said. 'Do you?'

'I can't say any more than that. But I really do think you need to see her. She's a bit of a mess right now.'

'Good,' Hutch said, then got to his feet. He dumped what was left of his sandwich in a nearby trash bin, then started back toward the courtroom.

He was halfway down the hall when he stopped himself.

What was he doing?

Why was he being so obstinate?

Why not go see Ronnie?

It would give him a chance to tell her one-on-one exactly how he felt. To let her know how her actions had affected his life. All of their lives. How he would applaud when the guilty verdict came down, and would make sure to attend her execution. Sit right next to Jenny's old man and give him a high five when all was said and done. It wasn't quite the same as a bullet to the brain, but he'd gain some satisfaction from it. Small but significant.

Of course, the moment these thoughts came forward, the usual Hutchinson guilt kicked in. It was a trait he'd inherited from his mother, who had constantly second-guessed every decision she made.

But why feel guilty? He hadn't asked for any of this, had he?

It was all on Ronnie.

He turned around and saw Waverly still standing by the bench, watching him. As if she had known he'd reconsider.

'When and where?' he asked.

'After court today. Downstairs in the lockup.'

'Tell her I might say some things she doesn't want to hear.'

'I think she has a pretty good idea where you stand.'

'Just tell her,' Hutch said, then turned and walked toward the courtroom.

— 14 -

At 5:25 that afternoon, Hutch said goodnight to Gus and met Waverly at the mezzanine elevators.