“Rose, this isn’t you. And it’s not like this Bruce Wayne Decker is a fine upstanding citizen. You said he’d been arrested multiple times before.”

“Yeah, for small crimes. Nothing violent. Nothing even close to this.”

“But with his record—”

“Oh. My. Word,” I exclaimed, hurt welling in my chest. “You’re just like them.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re prejudiced by his past.”

“Rose, it plays a part in this.”

“Joe! He’s innocent.”

“I know you think your vision told you—”

“You think I’m lyin’?”

“No! Of course not. But maybe what you saw isn’t what you think.”

I counted to ten, grinding my teeth into sawdust. “I think I need to go to bed now.”

“Rose—”

“Good night, Joe.”

I lay on the sofa late into the night too angry and frustrated to go to sleep. After watching hours of HGTV I decided it was time to do something with Momma’s room, which had been originally decorated back in the 1970s.

But why would I plan to redecorate a room when I was considering moving to Little Rock?

My fight with Joe made me wonder how much I really knew him, but that wasn’t fair. Joe was a good man. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder: if Violet and Mike, who’d had the perfect marriage until a few months ago, could fall apart, how could I make it work with Joe?

The next morning I woke to Muffy licking my face and daylight streaming in from the kitchen. Jerking upright, I grabbed my phone to check the time. 8:45.

Oh, crappy doodles!

Everyone in the courthouse would stink to high heaven within five minutes, so I saw no sense wasting precious time on a shower. I let Muffy out and brushed my teeth at the kitchen sink, watching her out the window. One of the boys from next door crept around the back corner of Joe’s house. I stood on tiptoes trying to see what he was doing when a blur flew toward Muffy and I heard yelping.

I ran out the door faster than Mildred’s cat chasing a squirrel. Muffy yelped again, lifting her foot off the ground, trying to hobble to the door. A rock lay nearby. “You get your booty out here right now!” I shouted.

The boy hid around the corner of the house, his blond hair poking out.

Leaning down, I checked Muffy’s foot for signs of blood. “I see you and I saw what you did. Get out here right now and apologize to my dog.”

Andy Jr. stepped around the edge, scrunching his face. “I ain’t apologizin’ to no dog.”

“You most certainly are. Now get over here and do it right now before I march back there and drag you out myself.” I surprised myself. I wasn’t usually this assertive, but past experience proved I didn’t like people messing with my dog. Apparently, being a kid was no excuse.

The boy walked around the corner, leery.

“Go on now. I don’t have all day. As it is, I’ll be lucky if I don’t get arrested.”

The boy’s eyes widened and he swallowed. “I’m sorry, dog.”

I picked Muffy up and cradled her in my arms. “She has a name. Her name is Muffy. Say it again.”

“Oh, come on!”

Gritting my teeth, my eyes widened and I was sure I looked like a lunatic.

The boys’ face turned white. “I’m sorr…rry, Muffy.”

“Why would you do such a thing? What did this dog ever do to you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”

“Would you like it if I threw a rock at you?”

He opened his mouth then glanced at me with fear and shook his head violently.

“Nobody wants to have a rock thrown them, dogs included. Muffy might play with you if you’re nice to her.”

His eyes lit up, but he sobered when he glanced my direction. “Really?”

“Well, if you can be nice, I’ll let you play with Muffy sometime, but you’re gonna have to earn that trust. And I guarantee if I ever see you hurt my dog again,” I leaned forward and pointed at this chest, “you will regret it for the rest of your life, got it?”

He nodded, wide-eyed and properly terrified.

I stifled my smug grin. Assertive Rose, who knew?

Muffy stopped whimpering by the time I got her inside and set her down. She padded around with only a slight limp and I considered icing her leg, but didn’t have time. I was going to be late enough as it was.

After a glance in the bathroom mirror, I understood why Andy Jr. looked so terrified. My hair stuck out all over my head. Mascara was smudged under my eyes, and foamy toothpaste hung from my lower lip.

I looked like a rabid Frankenstein’s bride.

Throw in my threats and my talk about getting arrested, and I had just become the neighborhood crazy lady.

There was only time for a quick scrub on my face with a washcloth and a brush through my hair as I ran out the door to my car.

Oh, Lordy. I hoped to dear God I didn’t get arrested. Could you rot in jail for being late to jury duty? I was about to find out.

I found a parking spot two blocks away, and half jogged to the courthouse, working up a sweat by the time I entered the courthouse. “Good mornin’, Matt.” I tossed my purse on the counter.

Matt checked my bag, then handed it back to me with a suspicious look.

Since the elevator was so slow, I ran upstairs, breathless when I burst into the juror room at nine-fifteen. “I’m sorry I’m late! Please don’t arrest me!”