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Mr. Hernandez grunted an acknowledgement before continuing. “Someone set off my alarm at about two in the morning. I’d finally installed one after some recent vandalism at my place. I checked the camera feed and turned on the lights to get a better look.”

“And what did you see?” the prosecutor asked.

“Someone in a moose suit dumping a load of hot dogs in my pool.”

Shelly and I exchanged glances, and I could tell she was doing her best to hold back a laugh.

“A moose suit?”

“I couldn’t tell if it was Rhubarb or the Mariner Moose. He was moving too fast. He dumped another trash bag of wieners into my pool, then took off.”

I couldn’t control my grin at the mental image of thousands of hot dogs, floating in his pool like an edible log jam.

“And Rhubarb is?” the prosecutor asked.

“Oh. Rhubarb the Reindeer is the Rainiers’ mascot,” Mr. Hernandez answered, as if every sports team had an eight-foot reindeer named after a tart fruit to support them.

Half of the jurors looked lost. Thanks to trivia night, I was well versed in the mascots of our local minor league sports teams, but judging from the chorus of snickers breaking out around me, my fellow jurors had no idea who Mr. Hernandez was referring to.

Sensing he was losing the jurors, the prosecutor moved on. “And then what happened?”

“The moose bailed. He had his truck parked on the street beyond camera range. I heard the engine revving as I ran out to chase him. I wanted to get the license plate and put an end to all the harassment. But he must have been going too fast, didn’t quite make the turn, because he crashed his truck into the house across the street, specifically into Mrs. Larson’s living room. I caught up to him as he staggered out of the cab and took off.”

It sounded like a crime show chase scene. I couldn’t pull my eyes away, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

“You didn’t pursue him further?”

Hernandez shook his head. “I wanted to, but making sure Mrs. L was okay seemed more important than following moose tracks.”

Crashing into someone’s house was no joke, but I couldn’t help smiling every time I imagined the floating frankfurters. As pranks went, it was pretty creative. Like something I would have egged Jimmy into doing back in our less responsible days.

When the court broke for lunch, the coordinator brought in sandwiches for the jury, and Sam and Shelly chewed in companionable silence on either side of me for the first few minutes. Not talking about what we heard was difficult. But we’d been instructed by the judge to wait until all evidence was presented and we were released to deliberate before sharing any observations with our fellow jurors.

Our unnatural silence was interrupted by an older juror two seats down. The balding man gave a pained grunt and gasped, pushing back from his chair. Before anyone could act, he crumpled, lying half in, half out of his chair.

We looked on, frozen in place. Sandwiches paused midair, the moment crystallizing as we watched in shock.

With the scrape of a chair, Ty swooped in, helping the older man maneuver to the tile floor. Ty’s measured movements and gentleness only served to highlight the undercurrent of panic running through everyone else. I dropped my sandwich and pushed back my chair, joining him on the cool floor. Ty’s grim face as he took in the prone man’s pallor and closed eyes made my stomach drop. Ty checked for a pulse and shook his head.

“Andi, help me start CPR.”

The soft command was calm, but I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me at his serious tone. I’d always thought I’d be the controlling one in an emergency, but Ty had me beat. His training and experience might mean the difference between this man living and dying.

Ty glanced up, eyes catching on Sam and issuing more rapid-fire instructions. “Go see if you can find the AED. There should be one near the stairwell in this building.Run.”

Sam nodded, taking off at a gallop.

Ty gestured to Shelly. “Call nine-one-one and ask for an ambulance.”

“What do I say?” Shelly asked, her voice tremoring.

“Possible cardiac arrest, patient unconscious, starting CPR, and will try a defibrillator. But tell them to send EMS.”

I shifted on my knees beside Ty. He’d already started chest compressions hard and fast.

“Have you had a CPR class?” he bit out as he worked.

I nodded, before realizing his gaze remained intent on the unconscious juror. Juror number seven. I thought his name was Ted, but I couldn’t be sure.