Page 126 of The Proving Ground
“Gentlemen, you are excused,” she said. “I will see you Monday morning promptly at nine, when you will have my decisions. Good day.”
“Thank you, Judge,” I said.
The Masons said the same. As we filed out of chambers into the hallway leading back to the courtroom, we were silent. It felt more awkward than the times we had sniped at each other while returning to court.
The judge’s clerk passed us, heading the other way, obviously summoned to chambers by Ruhlin. When we reached the courtroom, it was empty except for Cisco sitting in the first row of the gallery. The Masons went through the gate and passed by him without so much as a glance in his direction. I stopped in front of him.
“So?” Cisco said.
I waited until the courtroom door closed behind the Masons.
“So, she’s going to ask the marshals to investigate,” I said. “They’ll want to talk to you.”
“No doubt,” Cisco said.
“Are you sure about what you said, about the burner not being traceable?”
“They’ll be able to tell what cell towers the messages came through. But that’s as close as they’ll ever get. Why, Mick?”
“Just curious.”
“Hey, Mick…”
“What?”
“I mean, I know what you did with Bamba up north. I figured that out. But this? I mean, the judge could’ve put me in jail.”
“Are you asking if I sent you—”
“No, never mind. I don’t want to know. Better that way.”
“How would I even know where that juror lives? This is them, Cisco. If not the Masons, then Tidalwaiv and Victor Wendt’s team. Wendt tried to bribe me yesterday. He’s desperate, and this thing with the juror? That has desperation written all over it. I think they know Whittaker is going to blow their case up and they’re doing whatever they can to end this by settlement or mistrial.”
Cisco nodded as he followed the logic of my words.
“You’re right. Never mind what I said.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “You can head home now.”
“Wait, what about the juror? In or out?”
“We’ll find out Monday. But I think the judge will keep her. She doesn’t seem interested in doing the Mason boys any favors at the moment.”
“That’s good.”
I nodded as Cisco stood up to leave.
“We’ll see what happens Monday,” I said. “Have a good weekend. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Yeah, Mick, you do the same.”
Cisco headed to the courtroom door. When he got there he turnedaround and saw that I had not moved from the railing that divided the gallery from the lawyer tables and the judge’s bench.
“You coming?” he asked.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’m going to hang out for a few minutes.”
“Have a good one.”
