Juror #3(49)

A moment’s silence hung on the line; I broke it.

“Mr. Reynolds—can I call you Cary? I need to see you, to talk again before you take the stand. How about tonight? Court will adjourn at five o’clock. I could be in Vicksburg at six, six thirty at the latest.”

“Yeah, sure. My business stays open till eight o’clock most nights. You want to meet me here? At my lot? Cary’s Used Cars and Trux in Vicksburg.”

“Perfect.”

“Good, then. Look forward to meeting you in person. Sure want to do anything I can to help my old frat brother.”

I peeked into the courtroom to check the time. The clock on the far wall said I had a few minutes to spare. “I’ll be asking you to tell me everything you remember about that night, when Lee was in Vicksburg for depositions and y’all got together for drinks and dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am. Two old buddies, just like old times.”

I stuck my head into the courtroom again. Lee shot me an impatient glare, but the DA’s counsel table was empty. I ducked back into the hallway.

“So Cary, do I have this right: after dinner, you joined Lee in his hotel room?”

The voice on the other end of the line was urgent, plaintive. “Just popped in to give him a present. Something special for Lee. The Scotch.”

I chose my next words with care. “And a woman joined y’all.”

He groaned into the phone. “Just another little surprise. I don’t mean no disrespect, but she walked in looking good enough to eat. Lacy shorts, fishnet hose, skin like brown sugar.”

In the glass panel of the courtroom door, I saw my face twist into a grimace. He was talking about a dead woman. I forced myself to relax my features. “And then the three of you drank the Scotch in the hotel room.”

His voice was hesitant. “Well, I poured a round. But when that little girl sat on Lee’s lap, I made myself scarce.”

“Okay.”

“I said—Lee, buddy, I’m gonna scoot on out of here and give y’all some privacy.”

I needed more detail. Cary Reynolds’s testimony was my only light into the events of that night. The next morning, Lee and the hooker were found in the room, and the girl was dead.





Chapter 44



STILL HOLDING THE phone to my ear, I glanced to my right. Two uniformed deputies lingered nearby. I knew one of them: a young guy, Deputy Brockes. I ran into him at the courthouse on a regular basis. Brockes was a sweet kid.

He stood beside a gray-haired deputy I didn’t know too well. Though I encountered most of the sheriff’s department personnel in my line of work, the older guy—Potts was his name—was a newcomer to Rosedale, and we had yet to come face-to-face in court. But as I stood in the courthouse hallway, it seemed that Potts was staring me down, right at that moment.

It made me uncomfortable. Was he listening in to my side of the phone conversation? I turned my back to the deputy and lowered my voice.

“Cary, when I come up to see you tonight, we’ll need to nail down specifics.”

He paused. “Specifics?”

“Yeah. Like, about how much Lee had to drink that night. How much did he imbibe at dinner? And the bottle of Scotch was empty when the police searched the room—was it full when you brought it in? The hooker—when she arrived, did she appear to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol?”

Cary sighed into the phone. He didn’t answer right away. The uniformed deputies, Brockes and Potts, had edged closer. They were seriously intruding on my circle of private space.

Brockes said, “Hey, Miss Bozarth.”

I pointed at the phone in my hand. “On a call,” I said.

He went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’ll be in the courtroom with you this week. The Vicksburg judge asked for extra security, since it’s a murder trial. Old Potts here is going to have to ride patrol without me.” Brockes was puffed up with importance, and his face shone with pride.

On the phone, Cary Reynolds said, “Are you talking to somebody?”

“Sorry.” I turned my back to the deputies. “What were we talking about? The hooker. Tell me more specifics.”

In a voice of concern, he said, “I want my testimony to be helpful, I surely do. But I don’t know if I can recall every minute of that night. It was a while back, you know? I do know about the Scotch. It was a new bottle. Is it okay if I testify to that?”

My reflection revealed that I was frowning again. If I didn’t stop it, I’d be a wrinkled-up crone at the age of twenty-seven. Cary needed to help me establish the plausibility of the defense. The hooker who came into Lee’s room that night died of an overdose of drugs and alcohol while she and Lee were in bed, and the DA intended to pin that death on Lee Greene. I needed to plant a reasonable doubt and convince the jury that the OD could have been a result of the woman’s own actions.

But I also played by the rules. “Cary, you have to tell the truth. You’ll be under oath.” The court reporter walked up to her seat near the witness stand, signaling that court would convene soon. I said again: “So we’ll meet tonight at your lot, and you’ll come to Rosedale to testify in the case—right?”

“Sure, I’ll be there. I owe him.”





Chapter 45