Authors: Stephen Frey
Jury Town
OTHER NOVELS BY STEPHEN FREY
The Takeover
The Vulture Fund
The Inner Sanctum
The Legacy
The Insider
Trust Fund
The Day Trader
Silent Partner
Shadow Account
The Chairman
The Protégé
The Power Broker
The Successor
The Fourth Order
Forced Out
Hell’s Gate
Heaven’s Fury
Arctic Fire
Red Cell Seven
Kodiak Sky
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2015 Stephen Frey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of
Amazon.com
, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477827697
ISBN-10: 1477827692
Cover design by Stewart Williams
For Lily. I love you very much.
CONTENTS
PART ONE
PROLOGUE
1992
CHARLOTTESVILLE, VIRGINIA
The chill crawled up her spine like a black widow spider stalking her naïve mate—deliberately and purposefully.
Despite the midsummer heat of the Piedmont noon, Victoria shivered.
She and her mother had arrived seventy minutes ago—an hour early. But she’d been counting down to this day for five years. They were so close . . . but now he was ten minutes late. The anticipation was almost unbearable.
She took an exaggerated breath to calm herself down. Slowly and deeply in—then back out just as deliberately. Exactly as she had a month ago right before stepping onstage to make her eighth-grade valedictorian speech to the entire middle school.
She hadn’t thought she’d be this nervous. But, as they’d driven over the mountains from their dairy farm in the Shenandoah Valley, her anxiety had built and built.
Standing by the passenger side of the old Chevy, she looked up once more at the dark brick wall rising forty feet above her like a huge, terrifying tsunami. The surveillance towers soared another sixty feet into the clear blue sky.
Shading her eyes from the sun, she could just make out a pair of silhouettes on the closest tower’s observation deck. They wore Stetsons and aimed long-barreled guns down at the other side of the massive barrier. They looked like the Devil’s angels up there, and she hated them without even knowing them.
“There he is!” her mother shouted excitedly from the driver’s side of the Chevy, already sobbing. A figure had just emerged from a narrow steel door at the base of the wall. “Go, Victoria, go. I’m staying here. I’m not ready yet.”
Victoria kicked off her flip-flops and covered the distance across the parking lot to her father in seconds, long blond hair streaming out behind her.
As she crossed from sunlight into shadow, she caught her breath. He was gaunt, stooped at the shoulders, and his dark hair had turned mostly gray. He’d always seemed younger than her friends’ fathers. But, standing outside the Archer Prison wall, he seemed shockingly older—five years had aged him twenty.
“Hello, Victoria,” he whispered as she flew into his arms. “I can’t get over how pretty you are. You’re a beautiful young woman.”
“Thanks, Dad.” His shirt smelled awful, like wet dirt. “I missed you so much.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t come.”
She wanted to reach out and take his hand. She would have slipped her fingers into his without thinking when she was nine, before he’d gone away. At fourteen, that time had passed—whether he was innocent or not.
“Are you okay?” she asked as they headed for the Chevy. It was two hours back to the small town of Luray and their hundred-acre farm. She wanted to get home. They had his favorite meal waiting—fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits, and corn.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“What’s on your mind, Victoria?”
“You’re walking so slowly.” Her father had always been a man on a mission, even with nowhere in particular to be. “It’s like you’re shuffling.”
“You haven’t lost your directness, I’m glad to see.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Dad.”
“Maybe I have lost a step or two,” he admitted. “Could be you’re a few steps faster as well. Or maybe the shuffling is force of habit from the shackles.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Or
maybe
I’m just taking time to reacquaint myself with everything I’ve been missing for five years. Always consider all sides of an issue,” he counseled. “You’ll need to do that when you’re governor.”
He was her biggest fan, and he’d been telling her she’d be governor ever since she could remember.
“I’m serious,” he replied to her silence. “Virginia Governor Victoria Lewis. It’s got a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
She hesitated. “I . . . I guess.” Superstition drove her caution. The Fates hated arrogance.
“It
definitely
does. After you’re governor, you’ll be president.” He nodded confidently. “I had that vision the night you were born.” As they cleared the wall’s shadow and emerged into sunlight, he stopped and caught her arm. “Is there anything else?”
He never ducked or dodged anything. She got that from him and only from him, she knew. Her mother hated confrontation.
“Mom explained everything,” she answered as she stole a glance at the observation deck. One of those death angels seemed to be watching. The long barrel was aimed outside the wall. “She told me you didn’t steal money while you were county treasurer. She said you were framed, that Judge Hopkins fixed the jury. I didn’t understand what ‘framed’ or ‘fixed’ meant when you went away. But we studied the judicial system in school this year. And Mom and I talked about it last night and again this morning coming over the mountain. It makes more sense now.”
“
More
sense?”
“Why did Judge Hopkins do that to you?” It wasn’t the question she needed to ask, but she was getting closer.
“He and I disagreed . . . about many things.”
“But how could a jury find you guilty if you were innocent?”
“You know how small Luray is, Victoria. People find out things about people. And people in charge can use that knowledge. That’s what Judge Hopkins did. He got a snitch to tell the jurors on my trial that if they didn’t vote his way, they’d have real trouble.” Her father paused. “Don’t always count on the system to save you. But always do
whatever you must
to protect it. It isn’t perfect, but it’s the best system on earth.” He smiled proudly. “You’ll protect it one day, Victoria. Promise me you will.”
She swallowed hard. What she was about to ask . . . well . . . this was just him coming out in her. He couldn’t blame her. “Did you do it, Dad? Did you steal fifty thousand dollars from Page County?”
He smiled subtly, like a wisp of a summer breeze rippling across a freshly cut field of hay, as if he was relieved.
“No, I did not, Victoria. I’ve never stolen money in my life. Not a dime, not a nickel, not a penny.”
Relief surged through her. He’d never be able to stare directly into her eyes and say that with such conviction if he was lying. He wasn’t wired that way. She knew that for certain . . . because neither was she.
“Do you hate Judge Hopkins?”
He glanced across the parking lot toward the old Chevy. Her mother was standing by the open door, both hands over her mouth as the tears continued to flow. “I’ve got a score to settle.”
“I’ll help.” Her father’s eyes moved back to hers, and she was struck again by how old he seemed.
“If there’s time, Victoria,” he finally murmured, “if there’s time.” He took her hand in his and smiled. “Let’s go. I’m dying for that home-cooked meal I know you two have waiting. I bet it’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”
CHAPTER 1
PRESENT DAY
NORTHERN VIRGINIA (FAIRFAX)
Wayne Bennett balanced the pizza box on one hand and texted his wife, Janie, with the other.
Home soon.
Last pregnancy, it was Chinese. This time she was constantly craving pizza: extra cheese and pepperoni
every
time. Rather than wait two hours for Saturday night delivery, he’d driven three miles to the parlor and downed a tasty, tall Coors while he was waiting. Janie was all into sharing her pregnancies—every aspect of them. Including: if I can’t drink, you can’t drink.
Wayne winced as he placed the phone and the large pie down on the roof of his rusty old Honda. He’d forgotten gum to mask the beer breath. Hell with it.
As he dug for his keys, a silver Dodge Charger raced through the strip-mall parking lot and skidded to a stop, blocking him in.
“What do
you
want?” Wayne demanded when a slim young man with short blond hair and buckteeth climbed out of the Charger.
“Are you Wayne Bennett?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Are you Wayne Bennett?”
“Yeah.
So?
”
“So you just won the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes,” the young man announced. He gestured over his shoulder at the dry cleaner, which was beside the pizza parlor. “I got a camera crew in there working this.” He patted the Charger. “And I got one of those crazy-huge checks in the back of my ride made out to you.”
It sounded way too good to be true. But why would someone lie about winning a sweepstakes? “Seriously?”
“You won ten thousand dollars a month for
life
. Can you believe it, Wayne? Smile for the crew.”
“Holy—Oh my God!” Wayne shouted. He raised his arms and danced—badly—for the camera. “This couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m jammed up against the limit on both my cards and I—”
The punk grinned. “I’m just messing, Wayne.”
Giddiness boomeranged to anger. “Hey, pal, you better tell me what’s going on or—”
“You’re a UPS driver. You wear that bad brown uniform all day long while you deliver boxes from your bad brown truck, right?”
“Move your ride.
Now.
”
“Been driving that truck for six years,” the young man continued, “and you’re moving up. Just got a seven-percent raise last month, I understand.”
“That’s it,” Wayne growled, striding forward, fists clenched.
“But you never mentioned that felony conviction to your supervisor, did you, Wayne? You never told UPS.”
He froze two steps away. “What?”
“Your felony conviction for grand theft auto in California nine years ago under your real name. Charles Liggett. Does your wife know Wayne Bennett is just an alias? Does Janie know the name she took at your courthouse wedding here is just a figment of your imagination? Of course not,” he answered himself.
“I . . . I wasn’t guilty. I didn’t steal that car. It was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Oh, sure. Hey, I haven’t met a guilty felon in my life, including me. But none of that matters, Wayne. All that matters is what’s on your record. And that’s the conviction.”
Wayne stared into the distance as his world cratered. He felt like a doll, incapable of blinking. How would he ever explain this? “What do you want?”
“Your vote.”
“My
what
?”
“You’ve been cooped up in that Fairfax County courthouse for weeks. You’re a big shot, foreman of the jury. Big criminal trial. What’s his name again? The senior executive for that defense contractor, Keystone Systems.”
“Scott Tolbert.” Wayne lowered his voice. “He’s the chief financial officer of Keystone. So?”
“Tolbert’s accused of bribing a Pentagon official.”
The young man’s buckteeth gave him an innocent, childlike look when he grinned. But the cold glitter in his eyes reminded Wayne of the criminals he’d run with in California. They didn’t care who they hurt.
“In exchange for a briefcase full of cash, Tolbert wanted that DOD guy to help Keystone get a seventeen-billion-dollar contract to build attack helicopters. That’s what the state of Virginia wants you to believe, anyway.”
“So?”
“So . . .” The punk tapped his fingers on the Charger roof. “How are you feeling about the case?”
Wayne glanced around furtively. “I . . . I can’t talk about it. We’re only out for the weekend to see our families. The judge warned us not to talk about it with anyone.”
“Have it your way. So I’m thinking I’ll call UPS and have them look you up in the Sacramento courts. The names have changed, but the fingerprints haven’t.”
“How in God’s name do you know so much—”
“Based on what you’ve heard so far, do you think Tolbert is guilty?”
Wayne hesitated. “Yes.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
His shoulders sagged with relief. “Whew. Man, I thought there was a problem because—”
“You will find Scott Tolbert innocent.”
Wayne stiffened again. “But he’s—”
“As foreman, you’ll be the voice of reason and persuasion in the jury room. You and a few other jurors I’ve already had the pleasure of shocking today.”
“But the man’s guilty. It’s just a question of how long a sentence we give him.”
“You’ll find Scott Tolbert innocent, Wayne. He’ll do no time in a Virginia prison.”
“I can’t find him innocent.
We
can’t find him innocent. The evidence is overwhelming. I’ll look like an idiot if I start banging the innocent drum.”
“How you gonna look when your boss finds out you’re a convicted felon?” The kid didn’t wait for an answer. “Out of work,” he sang as he breezed past Wayne, grabbed the pizza off the Honda roof, and backtracked to the Charger, “and divorced. Innocent of all charges,” he called over his shoulder as he opened the back door and placed the warm box on the seat. “Are we clear?”
“Yeah,” Wayne muttered glumly. “What the hell do I care what happens to Keystone Systems . . . or Scott Tolbert?”
“You don’t. You care about your job and your family. And all’s well with both as long as Mr. Tolbert goes free. By the way, what’s on the pizza?”
“Extra cheese and pepperoni.”
“Excellent, Wayne, excellent.” The young man waved as he slid behind the steering wheel. “Have a nice day and don’t forget. Vote innocent or vote to be fired.”
NORTHERN VIRGINIA (LOUDOUN)
“Colin! Hey, Colin, wait up!”
Colin O’Hara stopped short in the Costco parking lot when he heard his name, near a return area for the oversized carts that made shoppers feel Lilliputian. He was headed inside to buy four juicy rib eyes. His wife had delivered Colin Junior three months ago, and the in-laws were visiting from Ohio to see the baby boy for the first time. CJ, as everyone was calling him, was their first child and the first grandchild for the in-laws.
“Don’t you remember me from college, Colin?” a slim, blond guy asked when Colin turned. “From Virginia Commonwealth?”
“Sorry,” Colin apologized politely. “I . . . I really don’t.”
“We were econ majors together. Man, that was rough, you know? All that theory crap was ridiculous.”
“Sorry,” Colin muttered again, making an obvious impatient glance at his watch. “I still don’t remember, and I’m in kind of a—”
“That’s where you met Lydia.”
Warning sirens screamed at Colin. The guy had a bucktoothed grin straight from Appalachia . . . but there was something sophisticated in those eyes.
“When the three of us were taking those econ classes together, remember? You and Lydia were always passing notes back and forth.”
Colin felt the blood drain from his face in a single missed heartbeat. “Huh?”
“Lydia Crawford,” the guy answered, his voice turning surly. “That redhead you had the horns for at VCU and had a kid with last year. She lives two hours from here down in Richmond. You and Lydia named the little girl Haley. You married Betsy two years ago, but you and Lydia haven’t stopped seeing each other since VCU. Pharmaceutical sales keep you on the road, Colin, which is why Betsy never suspects.” He shook his head. “Two families. That’s a daring lifestyle. Unfortunately, it just tracked you down, Colin.”
“You . . . you have the wrong person,” Colin muttered, glancing around fearfully. What if one of Betsy’s girlfriends overheard him talking to this guy? Everyone in town shopped here. “I . . . I must look like someone else you know.”
“You’re the man I’m looking for, Colin. For sure . . . and I know
everything
about you. Including how you’re a juror on the Bailey Energy trial.” The kid stepped forward and poked a finger into Colin’s chest. “You vote for the corporation when it’s time for the verdict. You vote to allow Bailey Energy to build that pipeline straight through Loudoun County or Betsy, that good little Catholic girl you’re married to, finds out all about Lydia and Haley. Your in-laws find out, too.
Everyone
does.”
Colin suddenly felt like he had to puke. “Get away from me!” he shouted, turning around and stumbling for his car. “Get the hell away from me!” he yelled over his shoulder.
“Yeah, hell’s where you’ll be if you don’t vote innocent!” the young man shouted across the parking lot, turning heads everywhere. “You’ll see, Colin!
You’ll see!
”