Mistaken Identity

“Come on, Citrone,” Lou said. “Everybody knows about the parking lot at the Eleventh. They go

Citrone laughed quietly. “Me, kill you? I’m not even here. My friend should be along any minute. A state trooper.”

Judy forced herself to think. Citrone would shoot them as soon as the trooper got there. What could she do? She didn’t have a gun. Then she remembered the boxing she’d watched at the gym. She had surprise on her side, if not expertise. Suddenly she lowered her stance, planted her feet, and threw the first punch of her life, aimed point-blank at Citrone’s jaw.

“Ahh!” Citrone cried out. The blow landed badly, but knocked the cop off-balance. The revolver went off with an ear-splitting crack!

“No! Lou!” Judy screamed as Lou’s shoulder exploded into bright red blood and tattered fabric.

Lou didn’t feel the pain. He threw himself against Citrone’s arm and grabbed his wrist, struggling to shake the gun free. It clattered to the street while Lou pi

“Freeze, Citrone!” Judy shouted, her voice strong with newborn authority, and Lou was already rolling off of the crooked cop, leaving him exposed in the gutter.

“I’ll be all right,” Lou said, drowsy from the anesthesia. It would hurt if he could feel anything, but he couldn’t. He’d never caught one in all his years on the force. His retirement, he had to get shot. Like a schmuck. He eased back on the thin hospital pillow. The bullet had been removed and his shoulder packed and splinted. Nagging him from the foot of the bed, like three harpies, were Judy, Mary, and Rosato.

“You’ll be fine.” Be

“Me, neither,” Mary said. “Not until the entire Eleventh District is behind bars.”

“We got ’em, didn’t we?” Lou smiled, his words faintly slurred.

Judy gri

Be

Still, Mary couldn’t feel happy about it. “Not a great way to do it, though, Lou. Putting yourself in harm’s way.”

Lou chuckled softly. “Talk to Judy. She threw one of the worst punches I ever saw.”

Judy bowed. “Thank you, thank you.”

“She saved my life,” Lou said, his sentence trailing off. He wanted to thank her, but didn’t have the strength to hug her. It was probably for the best. You weren’t allowed to hug women anymore. It was against federal law.

“Told you I could box,” Judy said. “I’m going twice a week, after this verdict is in.”

The verdict, Be

When?

92

Be

“Get out of my way!” she shouted at the mobbing reporters. She plowed through the crowd and trusted that Mike and Ike had the associates covered. They fought their way into the courthouse, into the elevator, and finally down the hallway to Courtroom 306. The lawyers pushed through the gallery to the bulletproof shield. For the first time Be

On the silent side of the barrier, Judge Guthrie sat atop the dais, apparently reading documents. Courtroom perso

Dorsey Hilliard walked through the glass door, then approached Be

Be

Co

“Mr. Deputy,” Judge Guthrie said, his lined features tense. “Please call the jury.”

The deputy retrieved the jury, and everyone in the courtroom craned their necks to see them as they filed in, searching their faces for clues as to the verdict. But the jury entered the courtroom on the final day as they had on the first, with their heads lowered and their eyes avoiding contact with anyone. The videographer looked grave and the librarian remained businesslike, her lips pressed together.

Be

“Madam Foreperson,” Judge Guthrie said, reading from a slip of paper on his desk. “I have received a note indicating the jury has reached a verdict. Is that correct?”

The librarian stood up, resting a hand on the jury rail. “It is true, Your Honor.”

“Is this a unanimous verdict, Madam Foreperson?”

“Yes, it is, Your Honor.”

“May I have the verdict slip, Mr. Deputy?”

Be