Chapter 27

Sgt. Scott's intent to pin a bad shooting on him disheartened Bryant. But he figured he had time later to worry about it – and that there was nothing he could about it either way.

Instead, he followed Jan back to her house. She insisted she was doing fine but she could tell Bryant was worried about her. She also knew that Bryant had a lot more experience with this sort of thing than she did. So she didn't put up much of a fight when he told he'd come over to fix dinner for her.

Bryant put a couple of chicken breasts on the grill and a pan of rice on the burner while Jan took a shower. When she came back downstairs, Bryant looked closely to see if she had been crying. It was pretty obvious that she hadn't been.

She noticed Bryant's gaze and frowned at him.

"I'm really okay with this," she said. "If it had been someone else – if I didn't know what I know about him – I'm sure it would bother me a lot more. Sure, I've wondered if maybe I should have aimed lower. But I hit where I could. If I had waited for McGregor's head to clear his chest, he might have recovered enough to slash her. And he could have died from a shot to his chest just as easily as two in the head."

"All true," Bryant told her with a nod.

"You know, everyone in that room with a gun had a bead on his head," Jan said. "Bea was blocked by Mayfield's mother. Morales had the bailiff in his background. Susan Brockleman was too close to Holly's muzzle for her to fire. The Shrekengost kid was in Chumley's line of fire. I know you were adjusting for a second shot when I fired. But everyone had a finger on the trigger. Everyone was prepared to take the shot. That makes this a lot easier for me to deal with."

"I'm glad," Bryant told her. "I wasn't. I mean, my first time."

Jan nodded sadly.

"I read about it," she admitted. "I was on patrol in Roseland. I was a rookie and my training officer used the case to illustrate what could happen out there. I didn't even remember it was you until we'd been partnered up for a few months. You know what my TO told me? He said yours was a textbook case of a good shoot. You had a drugged-out suspect who had already committed a serious crime. He told me that what you went through is why we always have to be vigilant. He said if you hadn't been alert that you would have been dead and likely your partner would have been, too."

"That's what I've always thought," Bryant told her.

"No, it isn't," Jan said, shaking her head. "After my TO pointed out the newspaper clippings on the shooting, I followed it a little. The Tribune had a field day with a white cop shooting a black perpetrator. I can't see how it would have mattered if the guy was white, black or purple. But it was something for them to sell papers so they went crazy."

"I remember," Bryant said with a frown.

"Then there was Allyson," Jan continued. "So I know you started to worry if you'd done the right thing. I know those doubts came back after you shot the guy who had pistol-whipped his girlfriend. I know they came back after the bank thing and I know the way the PPB handled the last one brought them out again."

"I guess," Bryant admitted.

"I don't have the PPB on my ass," Jan said. "I don't think I'll have the newspapers on my ass. The newsies in the room were tickled pink that Mayfield didn't get a chance to grab them."

"And the South Carolina equivalent of PPB is gunning for me and not for you," Bryant added, forcing a smile, as he sat their dinners on the table.

"This isn't going any farther than what you've been through today," Jan said. "I have your back on this one. The city has your back on this one. Hell, Judge Manning has your back."

"That doesn't stop Lydia Wayne from indicting me," Bryant pointed out.

Jan chuckled lightly.

"Who will preside over any grand jury in this county?" she asked.

"Uh, I guess it would be Alex Manning, wouldn't it?" Bryant answered. "But if he's a witness, he can't sit over the jury."

"He will put Lydia Wayne in a headlock if she asked him to empanel a jury to indict you," Jan said firmly. "Plus if Jonah or Allyson got wind of it – and they would – the shit would hit the fan in a real hurry. I just want you to know that this one isn't going to play out like the last one."

"I'm supposed to be making sure you're okay," Bryant mentioned.

"And you are," Jan said. "I'm sure at some point, this might weigh on me. If it does, I'll pull out Mary Beth Brockleman's murder book and any doubts I have will go away."

Lost in the circus-like atmosphere in Judge Manning's courtroom was the fact that the jury in the Mayfield case was in a soundproof room down a long hallway from where they had heard testimony.

They had no idea that Jonathan Mayfield was dead. It took them a few minutes more than an hour to reach a sentencing decision. The foreman opened the door to tell the bailiff only to find the hallway empty. It took the foreman a half hour more to locate someone he recognized. Manning's court administrator was stunned but she dutifully notified her boss – who was equally surprised. The jury had been completely forgotten in the aftermath of a shooting in his courtroom.

Manning wasn't certain what to do about it. A verdict was moot because the defendant was dead. By all rights, he should dismiss the jury and send them home.

At the same time, they had duly deliberated and reached a unanimous decision on sentencing. They had listened to almost two weeks of often-horrendous testimony. They had been removed from their families for the duration of the trial. They deserved to have their decision heard. After deliberating, he decide since the coroner had taken almost an hour to make his way into the locked-down courthouse and render a time of death, Mayfield was legally still alive when the verdict was signed.

Two hours after the jury had finished its sentencing sheet; they were ushered to a magistrate's courtroom in a separate floor of the courthouse.

The jurors weren't overly surprised that the defendant was absent. Mayfield had been removed from the proceedings, twice, earlier. They were a little surprised to be in a different room but not to an extreme. What surprised them was how empty the room was.

A single figure sat at the defense table. Wyatt Quinn sat alone. The woman who had sat with him during the penalty phase was nowhere to be found. The prosecutor's table had both occupants but the police detective who had sat there as the defense put on its case was missing. There were no members of the media. The other witnesses weren't there and neither was the victim's mother. The room held the twelve jurors, the alternates, the judge, two prosecutors, a defense attorney and a single bailiff.

"State v. Mayfield, case number 12-00145 is back in session for the purpose of delivering a verdict," Manning announced. "Has the jury reached its decision?"

"We have, Your Honor," the foreman commented.

He took a folded sheet of paper and passed it to the bailiff. The bailiff, in turn, handed it to Judge Manning. Manning unfolded the paper and read what was written.

"In the case of Jonathan Scott Mayfield, convicted of capital murder in the death of Mary Beth Brockleman, we, the jury, sentence him to die by lethal injection at a time and place of the state's choosing," Manning read. The document was signed by each of the jurors, who noted that their decision was unanimous.

Manning refolded the paper and set it in front of him. He turned to the jurors.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I want to thank you on behalf of the State of South Carolina for your service," he said. "I personally want to offer my thanks. This trial contained many unsettling accounts of violence. I am positive that some of the testimony you've heard will stay with you for a long time. I know it will stay with me."

He offered a deep sigh.

"It is my sad duty to inform you that the sentence you have just rendered will not be carried out," Manning told them. "Shortly after you began your deliberations, Jonathan Mayfield was shot during a standoff with police in the courtroom where the trial took place. Mr. Mayfield took a hostage and attempted to escape. He was killed. I wanted you to have the opportunity to deliver your decision and have it included in the record of this case. I believed – and the attorneys in this case agreed – that it was our duty to you, given what you've seen and heard over the past two weeks.

"I also didn't want you to read or hear about this from anyone else but me. I have decided to keep your identities sealed. If you choose to reveal your names to the media, that's fine. But they will not get them from me or from the other officers of this court. Again, I want to thank you for the diligence you've shown and for suffering the inconvenience of serving on this jury without protest or rancor. This case is now closed and the jury is dismissed."

Bryant spent the night on Jan's couch. He no longer worried that Jan was going to crack up. But they had split a six-pack of beer. Jan figured the last thing Bryant needed was to have one of the patrol officers pick him up for DUI.

He awoke early and was fixing breakfast when Jan wandered downstairs. She wore a short silk robe and looked sleep deprived. Her hair was tangled and he could see bags under her eyes. The worry that he put away returned.

She sat down and poured a cup of coffee before offering a tired smile to the guy at the stove.

"Do you know you're the only person to sleep in the same place as me since I was in college?" she asked.

"I didn't know that," Bryant admitted. "Is that why you look so tired? I could have driven home or called a taxi."

"No, no," Jan said quickly. "That wasn't it. It was actually comforting to know you were downstairs. I just had a couple of nightmares. Nothing unusual."

"Nightmares are usual?" Bryant wondered.

Jan shrugged.

"It's not really nightmares, I guess," she answered. "It's more just, I'm not sure how to describe it, just unease. I usually can't fall back asleep after them. I get out of bed and traipse around the house the rest of the night."

"Really?" Bryant asked. "Why have you never said anything?"

"It doesn't happen often," she confided with a shrug. "Once or twice a year. They come when I'm under stress. This is the first time I've had one since we came down here."

Bryant frowned as he poured the eggs into the skillet. He had decided to fix cheese omelets, bacon and toast.

"Is yesterday bothering you?" Bryant inquired.

Jan didn't answer so he turned around to see her face. She was sitting there looking at him.

"I'm still not too bothered by shooting that asshole," Jan replied. "But I'm worried about a couple of other things. I don't want you to pull away because you think you need to protect me on this. That's what you were going to do in Chicago. You were going to request a new partner to insulate me from the fallout. I don't want you to suddenly resign or quit or whatever."

"I hadn't really considered it," Bryant said.

"Good," Jan replied.

"What else is bothering you?" he wondered.

Jan looked up at him. She looked incredibly ... vulnerable – something Bryant hadn't thought possible.

"I'll tell you about it soon," she said. "I promise. Now you better get back to breakfast or we'll be having scrambled eggs instead of omelets. I'm going to get the paper."

Jan headed out toward the front door as Bryant returned to the stove. He heard the door open and looked up in time to see Jan bend forward to pick up her newspaper. Her panties were visible when she bent forward and Bryant saw they were turquoise that morning. He looked away before she turned back around. It hadn't occurred to him that Jan was wearing only her underwear beneath her robe. But her nipples were visible beneath the thin material when she resumed her seat.

She turned the newspaper around to show Bryant.

"Feast your eyes on this," she said.

He was thankful that Jan had been looking at the paper while he was checking out her chest. Now he wondered if she had caught his gaze.

He turned back around and saw Jan was pointing at the headline.

"HERO COPS END STANDOFF," the headline screamed in large type.

"Police chiefs stop courtroom hostage drama; Mayfield dead," the smaller subhead read.

Jan continued to read the story aloud. It was factual but it was also highly flattering of the Emerald Cove Police Department. She opened the paper to the opinion page and read an editorial. That piece also praised the hiring of two Chicago cops to lead the Emerald Cove Police Department.

"Well, the media isn't on our asses," Jan said. "That's something."

Bryant nodded and set a plate in front of Jan.

"You keep this up, I'm going to keep you," she said with a smile. "You fixed supper last night and breakfast this morning. You brought over some really good beer and I noticed you folded up the blankets from the couch. You're starting to look more and more like a keeper."

Jan took a bite out of her omelet and smiled.

"Wow, this is really good," she said enthusiastically. "I usually stop at McDonald's for a biscuit and a cup of coffee. So, what are you planning to do on your time off?"

Bryant shrugged. As with Chicago, the Emerald Cove Police Department mandated five days off after a police-involved shooting. It was on the list of things Jan wanted to review and revise but it hadn't been done yet. Neither Bryant nor Jan could return to work until cleared by a psychiatrist or psychologist.

"We could take a vacation," Jan suggested.

"You know, I've wondered about that," Bryant said. "Where do people who live at the beach go for vacation? Do you think they just go somewhere bland and work out of a hotel room?"

Jan laughed. Now that she was awake and alert, Jan's face had started to look more like he was used to seeing.

"I have no idea," she admitted. "Where did you go on vacation when you lived in Chicago?"

"Nowhere," Bryant told her. "I might drive to Indianapolis if the Colts were playing someone good. But I usually just hung out at the house, fixing little things that I'd put off for months."

"Me, too – without the fixing things around the house," Jan said. "By the way, can you look at my shower? I'd like more pressure. I bought a new shower head but it's still in the box."

"I'll handle it in a little while," Bryant said, shaking his head. "You can have a nice powerful spray this very morning."

"What about a vacation?" Jan asked. "Do you want to take off and go somewhere?"

"Like where?" Bryant wondered.

"Hell, I don't know," Jan said. "I've wanted to see Atlanta. Maybe even head down to Disney. That might be fun."

"Disney World?" Bryant asked incredulously.

"I love amusement parks," Jan admitted. "My favorite trip from my childhood is when we went to Cedar Point over in Ohio. I used to slip over to the water park in Joliet."

"I don't mind a trip to Atlanta but maybe we should wait until after school starts again before we try Disney World," Bryant suggested.

"Oh, yeah," Jan said. "Hey, that sounds good. Are you sure?"

"Why not?" Bryant wondered. "I've never been to an amusement park."

"A virgin!" Jan laughed. "I can't wait. Okay, but do you want to head to Atlanta and see what sort of trouble we can cause?"

"Shouldn't we stick around here?" Bryant asked.

"I turned the department over to Chumley," she said. "He can handle it."

"I told Holly and Regina to run things," Bryant mentioned.

"So we are not needed here," Jan told him. "Besides, they have our cell numbers."

The trip to Atlanta started well enough. Bryant and Jan stopped and had lunch at a roadside diner. A couple of the patrons had seen the photos on the TV news or in a newspaper and offered a friendly wave.

Jan just shook her head.

"Can you imagine that sort of reaction in Chicago?" she wondered. "That's the thing I really like about Emerald Cove. The people are really friendly. Everywhere you go, people smile and tell you hello. They ask you how you're doing and really listen to your answer. I mean, they genuinely care about how you're doing."

"It took me some time to get used to," Bryant admitted. "Luckily, a lot of the cops in the squad room treated me like I was used to so I didn't get homesick."

"I can't believe I bitched about how you left things," Jan said, shaking her head again. "After I dug myself out the pit I was in, I got the chance to really talk to Coleman about how things were when you came in the door. Hell, I walked into paradise after what you saw. I'm sorry about that."

"It's no problem," Bryant told her. He had gotten over their little tiff long before. It's something all partners went through at one time or another.

"It is a problem," Jan asserted. "I think part of it is that I was sort of counting on you to be my security blanket down here. I know you warned people about trying to shake my hand or patting me on the back. But some of the mannerisms of the people there sort of threw me for a loop. I wasn't used to having a stranger ask me about my day. I wasn't used to having people I work with offer their help with anything I might need.

"Do you know Stan's wife baked me a freakin' casserole? People on the street treated me like I was a rock star or something. People on Ocean Drive would slow down and speak to me from their cars if I was walking somewhere. In Chicago, if a car slowed down beside you, you better start looking for cover because someone is going to be shooting at you soon. Down here, they just want to chat for a second or tell you how glad they are you're in town. I know you warned me about that but I guess I thought you were exaggerating or maybe that the women in town were just hitting on you. I wasn't prepared for what I found when I got there."