Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

did.’
    I almost did, too . Daphne had no doubts that the Millhouses were responsible for the threatening phone calls she’d received, but the police hadn’t been able to prove it. The calls had started months ago, long before the first juror was chosen. At first they’d been annoying but quickly swelled into threats that left her shaken.
    She’d started driving a different way home every night and her two newest – and now closest – friends had become concerned. A pair of PIs, they’d taken charge of the escalating situation, providing the kind of personal security that the police simply couldn’t give her.
    Clay Maynard had ensured her house was wired with the best security system money could buy. Paige Holden drilled her in self-defense moves and had given her a very big dog. Things had settled for a while, and Daphne redoubled her efforts to build a case that would wipe that arrogant smile off the little bastard’s face.
    But when the callers had threatened her son . . . Daphne had come damn close to calling it quits. She’d begged Ford to accept a bodyguard, but her twenty-year-old, testing-his-wings son had point-blank refused and no amount of reason had swayed him. So, being a mom, she’d hired one anyway. He’d shit a ring if he knew the truth . But she wouldn’t apologize if he found out. Because I sleep better . A little .
    More important than her sleep, it had given her the strength to stay the course.
    She’d been through a hell of a lot in her life and was proud that she’d never given up. There’d been a few times she’d had to hunker down and wait out a storm, but mostly she’d risen to whatever challenge had been tossed in her path. Giving up had rarely even entered her mind. But the thought of the Millhouses touching a single hair on Ford’s head had given her serious pause.
    ‘I don’t give up so easily,’ she said, grateful she’d had the financial means to make that statement true. If she hadn’t been able to afford protection for Ford, she might have run for the hills. Instead, she’d pushed forward, prosecuting an eighteen-year-old murderer who’d regarded her with chilling contempt from the first day of the trial.
    Now the final decision lay with the jury.
    ‘Miss Montgomery.’
    Daphne turned to the quiet voice on the bench behind her. It was Sondra Turner, the daughter of the victims. Barely twenty-one, she’d conducted herself with a dignity far beyond her years. Beside her was her younger brother, DeShawn, who sat slightly bent forward, his eyes closed. His clenched fists rested on his knees.
    ‘Almost over, guys,’ Daphne murmured. ‘Soon.’
    Sondra folded her hands in her lap. ‘I wanted . . . we wanted you to know that whatever happens next, we know you did your best for our parents. Thank you.’
    ‘You’re welcome.’ But even if they got a conviction, it wouldn’t be enough. Sondra and DeShawn had lost their parents, brutally. Nothing would bring them back.
    But a conviction was better than nothing. Better than no justice. This I also know .
    Daphne sympathized with the victims who relived their trauma in the courtroom, but also envied the closure they got from the process. She’d never confronted the man who stole so much from her. From her family. She’d been too young. Then too scared. And then he’d been too dead. The passage of time had taken the choice out of her hands.
    ‘Did you make provisions for them?’ Grayson whispered, facing forward so that the Turners’ children could not see his face. In the event of a riot , was what he left unsaid.
    ‘I did.’ Daphne lifted her eyes to the back of the standing-room-only gallery to the detectives who’d made the arrest, JD Fitzpatrick and Stevie Mazzetti. They’d promised to protect Sondra and DeShawn if courtroom tensions boiled over. The promise had not been easily won from JD, who hadn’t wanted to abandon Daphne should a melee erupt.
    JD shouldn’t even be here , she thought. He should be home with Lucy . JD’s very pregnant wife was due any day, and even though she was already on maternity leave, she’d come in to testify the week before. As the medical examiner who’d autopsied the Turners, Dr Lucy Trask Fitzpatrick’s testimony had been invaluable, painting the picture of a brutal attack on a middle-aged couple who’d tried to defend themselves, but had been overpowered by someone much bigger and stronger. Someone just like Reggie Millhouse.
    JD gave Daphne a hard