Page 4

That’s not how things worked.
But was Olivia willing to risk her safety on the assumption that the Offseds were interested in doing an Internet search?
No.
As Olivia sent another glance around the parking lot for any possible listeners, she pressed the quick dial for her boss’s paralegal, Gail.
“Hi, Olivia. Do you need Steph?” Gail’s voice was a chipper mismatch to Olivia’s exhaustion.
“Is she free?” Olivia lifted her fob and beeped her car open.
“Beeping, you must be on lunch break. She’s right beside me but on another call if you want to hold.”
“I can do that.”
“How’s the trial going?” Gail asked.
“The jury seems bored,” Olivia admitted as she opened the back passenger side door and climbed in. With the sunscreen blocking out the windshield and the trees protecting from the side, Olivia felt she had a good amount of privacy. “I think they watch too much TV and came to the trial believing it would have a stronger entertainment value. I bet they’d give this a one—maybe a two-star review. One lady keeps nodding off and waking up with a snort. The judge gave her a warning.” Olivia dragged the door to her, shutting it with a bang and a quick flick of the locks.
“I need the jury to focus. I’m trying to build enough of a knowledge base that they don’t let Kyle off because they believed some bizarre plot twist they watched on some CSI show.”
Pleased that she had pre-positioned the front seat as far forward as it would go before going into court that morning, Olivia had plenty of room to maneuver as she dragged the top off her cooler. She set the lid on her lap upside down, with the edges making a catch-all system for her food. Any crumbs or spills needed to stay trapped and off her clothes.
“So, what’s going on with the jury?”
“Right now,” Olivia said, “my witness is factually correct, but his presentation is dry as toast.”
“This morning was the coroner, right?” Gail asked. “I mean, science isn’t for everyone.”
“At this point in the trial, all they’ve heard was a lot of circumstantial evidence, and I need the jury to buy into my legal theory as we move forward.”
“You’ve got this.” Gail’s Gen Z supportiveness made Olivia smile. “Tomorrow, you’re calling your witness. She survived it. She’ll be compelling.”
Olivia unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, setting it on the tray. “Only one eyewitness. You know? Five victims and only one survived,” Olivia said, looking at her sandwich, stomach churning. She had to eat. But for now, she’d set the sandwich down to give her stomach a second to settle. “Though, I’ve been—” Her phone rang with a second caller. Olivia looked down at her screen, saw Mickey’s name, and swiped to cut the connection. “I’ve been getting weird vibes from my witness.”
“Weird like you think she was making things up?”
Olivia forced herself to take a bite of sandwich as the phone rang again—Mickey. She swiped it off. “No. She most certainly isn’t making things up,” she said, talking past the food. “Witnesses get cold feet, sometimes. They don’t want to come in and relive.”
“I can understand. Ah, Olivia, Steph says she’ll call you back as soon as she gets off the phone. I need to go grab something for her.”
“Yup. Thanks.” As the connection ended, Olivia looked at the green leaves dancing in the breeze. It was soothing.
“You know what I need right now?” she asked her cheese sandwich. “A bit of wholesomeness.” She tapped her quick dial for Jaylen and was immediately greeted with a shriek from the receiver.
“Hey,” Olivia said, pulling her water bottle from the cooler. “Was that a cry of pain or delight?”
“Delight. Miss Tilly-Matilda is full of herself this morning.” Jaylen offered up an exasperated sigh. “I swear I don’t know what this child thinks she’s up to, but I just picked her up from her highchair. And now I know how she ate her spaghetti all-gone so quickly. She just dumped it into her diaper. It’s dripping down her legs. It’s only noon, and somehow, I smell like a pig farm. Do you think I’ll get into a shower at some point? Are you on lunch break? Wait, it’s one o’clock? No wonder my stomach is gurgling.”
As Jaylen rattled through jars in search of food, Olivia tapped the speaker on her phone then dropped her cell into the cup holder. Sliding her high heels off to give her feet a break, she spread her toes and rubbed her soles on the carpet. It was an enormous relief after a morning on her feet.
“Okay, I’ve got the makings of a PB and J and some baby carrots. I’m set.”
The phone rang a third time—Mickey.
“Do you need to take that?” Jaylen asked. “Who’s calling?”
“The shithead.”