Vanished

The two middle-aged men were both businessmen and they stayed. Both were married and had grandchildren of roughly the same age as Teddy. The man with only one leg said he was forty-two, had lost his leg in the Great War, and he sold insurance now for Travelers Insurance. The young black man worked for the post office in the day, and played trombone at Small's Paradise at night, and said he didn't have time to get married, and everyone laughed. And the two young girls were excused because the judge said they couldn't behave. Both were twenty-two, neither one was married and they seemed to think it was a game, and their removal served as a warning to the others. The middle-aged woman who kept staring at Malcolm and Marielle was a secretary and had never been married either. She lived in Queens, and it was impossible to read if she was sympathetic to Charles or not. All she could seem to do was stare at the Pattersons, and once the judge had to remind her to keep her attention on the proceedings. As a result, the defense excused her in the end, as well as the two men who'd come after her. But both sides kept the two alternate women. Which left them eight seats to fill, and it took the next four days to fill them. And in the end, it was a very interestingly mixed jury. The two middle-aged men with young grandchildren were still on, although Marielle had been sure that Tom would want to get rid of them, because they might be too sympathetic to the prosecution. It had become fascinating to second-guess the attorneys. And had it been a trial about anything else, it might actually have intrigued her. Both the veteran with one leg, and the young black musician were kept on. And the last man was of Chinese origin and a professor of economics at Columbia University. The rest of the jurors, as well as the two alternates, were all women.

The youngest of them was older than Marielle, and had three children of her own, but all of them were much older than Teddy. There was a woman who had been a nun for thirty years and had recently relinquished her vows to come home and take care of her dying mother. And when her mother had died, she had decided not to go back to the convent again, but she was not married. There were two women who were friends and were on the same jury by coincidence, both were schoolteachers in the same school, and neither was married, and then there were three women who seemed very plain, were married, had no children at all, and were all either secretaries or employees of large corporations. One had worked for an attorney for a brief time, but she said she had no special knowledge of the law, and neither attorney objected. It was, for all intents and purposes, a jury of Charles's peers, and a group of supposedly normal, decent, fair people.

It was Friday, just before noon by then, and the judge ordered the jury to go home, tie up their affairs, and enjoy their last weekend, because starting on Monday they would be sequestered. He ordered them not to read any newspaper stories about the case, or listen to the radio over the weekend.

He recessed the court then until Monday morning, and Marielle was surprised by how exhausted she was, just by the process of five days of jury selection. It had seemed endless, listening to people's tales and watching the lawyers decide to bounce or keep them. As she and Malcolm stood up, Charles was led away to spend another weekend in jail, and Tom Armour walked past her with no sign of recognition.

The FBI men took them home, and Bill Palmer came to see Malcolm that afternoon. They spent a long time in the library, but they never included Marielle, and she had coffee in the living room with John Taylor. There was no news at his end, but at least it was a relief to talk to someone sympathetic after the difficult week it had been. Every time Marielle had moved an inch out of the courtroom, Bea Ritter had pounced on her and begged her to see her. She called later that afternoon, and Marielle didn't take the call. She was too drained to deal with her or listen to her pleas on Charles's behalf. And Marielle did not want to help her.

“She's quite a girl,” Taylor remarked. “She must be crazy about him.”

“Some people feel that way about him.” Marielle smiled. She had no secrets from this man. “I did once. But then again, I was eighteen then.”

“And now?” John Taylor looked worried, but not about the case, as Marielle smiled.

“I'm a lot smarter now.” But that didn't mean she wished the death penalty on him either, if he didn't deserve it. She was still having a hard time with that, and the FBI had been able to shed no new light on the case. There had been a sighting in Connecticut earlier that week, a little boy who supposedly looked just like Teddy. But like all the other leads they had had, when it was checked out, it turned out to be bogus.

“You look tired.” Taylor spoke softly as she poured him a second cup of coffee.

“It's been a rough week.”