(Chapter 31. Federal Courthouse conference room and cafeteria, July 2, 2033.)
The moment the judge was out of the courtroom, Bruce took Emily's wheelchair and began pushing her out the exit that led to the lawyer-client conference rooms. As he did so, he said, "Liv, Steven, I'm taking her to conference three. Bailiff, please bring us a first aid kit." Emily kept insisting she was ok, but he had to be sure. The last thing he needed was to let the trial continue only to have a mistrial declared because his client was too ill to continue. He wanted an acquittal, and he wasn't sure Emily could withstand having to go through it all again.
Conference room three was the nearest handicapped accessible room for lawyers and clients to meet. As he reached the door, Bruce slapped the big blue button that made the doors swing open and wheeled Emily directly through to the small meeting area. Even before he could ask if she was all right, she dissolved in a fit of giggles.
"Em? Wha . . . ? Are you all right?"
Emily just continued giggling and nodded.
"What . . . What's so funny?"
She shook her head. "Nothing." She giggled. "Bressler." More giggles. "He's fluh . . . " Giggles interrupted again. "Flub . . . " Still more giggles. "Flabbergasted." She giggled until she ran out of air, and then continued shaking silently, too consumed by her laughter to even take a breath.
Bruce smiled at her, somewhat bemused. Bressler's stumbling and stammering had been comical, but certainly not this funny. Emily finally took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak, began to shake, and erupted into another giggling fit. She slowly slid down in her seat, and by the time she stopped her descent, her bottom was nearly off the seat, her head was propped up in the middle of the backrest, and she was slouching there, still giggling. Her face was glowing red and tears still streamed down her cheeks.
As Bruce waited for his client to regain control of herself, Steven and Olivia burst into the room, carrying between them the first aid kit the bailiff must have retrieved. It was a monstrous thing, too large to be readily carried by one person, and Bruce supposed it contained everything that could conceivably be useful in a medical crisis in the courthouse. Considering his client had nearly died the last time she had been in the building, he wasn't surprised that someone, somewhere had gone overboard and put even the ambulance service to shame with the amount of equipment now provided. Still, while he was sure the kit included everything Steven and Olivia would require to tend to Emily's needs, he could easily imagine that something one person could not carry alone would be utterly impractical in many other situations, and might as well not be kept on hand at all.
"Em?" Steven gasped in mixed concern and confusion.
Emily giggled some more and waved weakly.
"Oh, good Lord," Olivia said in that exasperated tone that only a mother knew how to use effectively.
"I called Alex. He's on the way over," Keith said as he slipped in and then just stood quietly out of the way.
"Liv," Steven pleaded, worried and still confused, "what's wrong with her?"
"A stress response," Olivia explained, "I don't know if she inherited it from me or learned it from me, but she definitely got it from me somehow. I used to do it all the time when I was about her age. Something probably struck her as funny, and she couldn't get it out of her head. Of course, trying to control it only made it worse."
Olivia moved over and crouched before her daughter. "Em, is this why you were carrying on in the courtroom?"
Emily nodded. "Yes, Mama," she choked out, and started to giggle again.
"Are you in any pain or discomfort, Sweetheart?"
"Chest hurts," Emily gasped between giggles, "and I have to pee."
Realizing that Liv understood her daughter's unusual behavior far better than he did, Steven had busied himself getting the equipment he would need to check Emily's vital signs, but when Emily mentioned chest pains, he frowned. "Em, are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, Steven," she replied, now giggling only slightly as her mother helped her sit upright. "It hurts . . . from holding it in . . . not letting it out."
"Sweetie," Liv asked stroking her daughter's curls, "do you think you can wait on the bathroom until Steven checks your vitals? Then, when you get back, we can check again and compare the results before we decide whether we need more time or not."
"I'm fine, Mama," Emily said impatiently, and she giggled slightly.
"Maybe you are," Olivia agreed, "but I'd like to be sure."
Sighing, Em rolled up her sleeve for the blood pressure cuff and said resignedly, "Yes, Ma'am." She couldn't contain a small spurt of laughter as Steven wrapped the cuff around her arm.
As Steven checked Em's pressure, Olivia questioned her daughter closely. "Em, you said your chest hurts. How does it feel?"
Emily made a confused face and said, "I feel fine now. It was nothing."
"Ok, but still, how did it feel?"
"It just hurt, Mama. What do you mean how did it feel?"
As Steven went to place his stethoscope against her chest, Emily pushed his hands away. "What in the hell are you doing?" she snapped.
"Em, I need to listen to your heart," he told her calmly.
"No, no you don't, you're not my doctor. I'm fine, Steven. Just leave me be."
"Emily," Keith said coming forward to sit beside her so he could look her in the eye, "if you're fine, then it's no big deal. Just let him listen for a little and he can put all our minds at ease."
"Daddy," Emily said in a cajoling tone that usually got her whatever she wanted, "I said I'm ok. Don't you believe me? Isn't my word good enough?"
For a moment, Keith looked like he would cave in and tell Steven to back off, but then there was a hard glint in his eye and he said, "No, this time, Kiddo, it's not enough."
Emily narrowed her eyes, and said, "Well, it's just going to have to be. I don't want him touching me."
"Em!" Steven gasped, sounding hurt that she would say such a thing.
"Alex is my doctor," she insisted defiantly. "I don't want anybody else examining me."
"Emily," Bruce said, "I need a reliable evaluation of your condition now or I am going to tell Judge Greer we need a continuance."
"Do that, and I'll fire you," Emily threatened.
"Do what you have to do," Bruce said heading for the door. "You're not the one who'll have to face him when you keel over in the courtroom. It will be easy for me to find a less difficult client. How soon do you think you're likely to find a new lawyer?" He paused a moment with his hand on the doorknob. He wasn't bluffing, but he'd give her one last chance to change her stubborn mind.
Emily locked eyes with Bruce for a moment. She knew he had seen through her empty threat; she also knew he was deadly serious about going to the judge. She didn't think he wanted her to fire him, but she could tell he wouldn't let that stand in the way of doing what he thought was best for his client. Hardheaded pride warred with common sense for a few moments, and then Emily's shoulders sagged.
"Ok, Steven, you may examine me, briefly."
The whole room sat in silence as Steven listened to her heartbeat. Emily stared out the window, detached from the goings on in the conference room. Liv and Keith watched Steven's expression intently, and when he gave a puzzled frown, they exchanged a worried look. Bruce just waited patiently for a report from the young doctor.
When Steven put down the stethoscope and started to take Emily's pulse without comment, Olivia asked, "About the pain in your chest, Em, was it a feeling of pressure, or sharp pains radiating toward your arm? Did it feel like you couldn't get your breath?"
Emily continued looking silently out the window, the giggling fit having finally passed as the feeling of defeat sank in. Finally, she said vacantly, "No, Mama, it was not a heart attack. It hurt like it does when you need to laugh but know you can't, that's all. I'm fine, really. Now, will you help me to the ladies' room, or is poor Bruce going to start earning hazard pay?" The joke wasn't so much a half-hearted attempt at humor as it was a reflexive smart aleck comment born of years spent humoring and haggling with her overprotective mother.
"Ok, ok," Olivia said in a soft, worried tone. Then she brightened, "To the bathroom we go."
Once they were gone, Bruce looked to Steven and asked, "How is she?"
Steven shrugged. "Her pressure's a little high, and I don't like what I heard when I listened to her heart. I need to examine her again and speak to Alex. You might as well tell the judge now that we'll need at least another twenty minutes before we can determine whether she is fit to continue."
"What's wrong with her?" Keith asked worriedly.
Steven shrugged. "It's hard to say," he said. "That's why I need to talk to Alex."
"Hmmm," Bruce gave it some thought. "That will take us to quarter past eleven. Do you want me to suggest that he declare an early lunch, maybe reconvene at noon?"
Steven nodded. "That would work out great," he agreed. "It'll give Em time to calm down, and I can consult with Alex, maybe even give her something to take the edge off her anxiety. Yes, if she's going to be fit to go back to it, she will be ready by noon."
Bruce scribbled a quick note on a legal pad and handed it out to the bailiff. "Please come straight back and let me know what he decides."
"I think she's going to argue that there were mitigating circumstances," Ron said quietly. He wasn't supposed to be discussing Emily's case with Steve, Moretti, and Cheryl, because all four of them were witnesses in the trial, but when more than thirty witnesses were summarily dismissed, none of them could resist speculating on Em's strategy. "Most of the prosecution's evidence is incontrovertible. She can't prove she's innocent, because she's not, so she's trying to get the judge to see her side of things."
Moretti shook his head. "No, no way, that's not Em."
"What makes you so certain?" Ron asked.
"Look Wagner," he replied. "Ya called her in ta do a job, but I'm the one spent three weeks on the run with her. She's a 'no excuses' kind of person. If she's done somethin', she'll tell ya, 'Yeah, I did it. Now, what're ya gonna do about it?' but she ain't gonna make up no lame excuses ta explain it away. If she's sorry, she'll say so, but she still won't tell ya a story to make it seem all right."
"So, you think she's planning to throw herself on the mercy of the court, then?" Cheryl asked.
"I ain't sure she knows what she plans ta do just yet, but she ain't gonna whine about no mitigatin' circumstances."
"I agree with Moretti," Steve said, "but I don't think she's going to just go down without a fight, either. She's up to something."
"Well now, that's a revelation," Cheryl said sarcastically. "Steve, she's been up to something since the day she walked into your office."
Steve rolled his eyes at her. "You know what I mean." When Cheryl just grinned, he put her on the spot. "So, what do you think she's up to?"
Cheryl shrugged. "I see no point in guessing. I'll probably be wrong." She still had a bad feeling that Em was deliberately sabotaging herself in the courtroom, but she didn't want to worry Steve with her thoughts; and she fervently hoped she was wrong.
Before Steve could press her for a real answer, the bailiff approached them and said, "Excuse me, folks, but Judge Greer has decided at the defense's request to take an early lunch. Court will reconvene at eleven forty-five. Why don't you go get yourselves something to eat?"
"Court will reconvene at eleven forty-five," the bailiff told Bruce and then he stepped back out into the hall.
"Why so long?" Emily asked.
"Steven and I thought it would be for the best," Bruce said.
"Oh, I see, and what oracle did you consult for this advice?"
"Em," Steven said, "Your blood pressure is up, your giggling is liable to have you jailed for contempt, and I really don't like what I heard when I listened to your heart a few minutes ago. Alex is on his way, and I'm going to consult with him, ask him to prescribe something to calm you down, maybe even ask him to recommend a postponement to the judge."
Slowly, painfully, Emily got to her feet. "Steven, don't you dare! Don't any of you dare start making decisions for me!"
"But, Sweetheart," Liv began, "we can put this off until you are stronger. Judge Greer might be strict, but he's also a fair and compassionate man. If Alex deems you unfit to stand trial . . . "
"No! Mama, I am fit to stand trial now."
"Em, if we wait . . . "
She turned on Keith. "Wait? For what, Daddy? For me to go mad with anxiety? For the prosecution to dig up some more witnesses? No! I need to get this over now!"
Emily's hand went to her chest, and she turned paper white. She sat in her wheelchair with a plop and gasped for breath. As she fought for air, she continued to speak. "The stress . . . of the trial . . . is no worse . . . than not knowing. . . I need . . . to know . . . what comes next . . . if I am to go on."
She stopped talking then, and just sat there, eyes closed, in obvious pain, fighting for air. She didn't fight or argue when Steven checked her vitals and tutted over her, but when he attached a mask to a portable oxygen cylinder and put it over her face she pushed him weakly away.
"Leave me be . . . Leave me be . . . I'll be . . . ok."
Steve and Cheryl walked through the courthouse cafeteria line getting their own meals as well as something for Ron, who couldn't yet manage to carry a tray, and Moretti, who was keeping him company at a table already.
"She's found some loophole, something that makes everything she did legal," Steve said. "With so many laws on the books, she could probably prove that black is white and north is south and make the prosecution disappear in a sea of red tape if she really wanted to."
"Yeah, I suppose."
Steve laughed slightly. "You don't sound too convinced."
"Oh, there's no doubt that she's an extraordinarily bright and capable young woman, Steve, but don't you think you're overestimating her just a little?"
"Oh, I might be exaggerating some," he conceded, "but I'm sure she's going to be acquitted. She must have something up her sleeve. Otherwise, she wouldn't have let all those witnesses go without questioning them."
"If you say so."
Steve stopped in his tracks. "What's the matter, Cheryl? Don't you want her to go free? Do you really think she deserves to go to jail?"
"No, Steve," she said sincerely, "not at all."
"Well, then, what's up?"
Cheryl sighed and said, "I wasn't going to say anything about this. I didn't want to worry you, but I don't think I'd be a very good friend if I didn't mention the possibility only to see you blindsided if I'm right."
Steve frowned in confusion and said, "Blindsided? By what?"
As they paid for their lunches, Cheryl indicated with a nod of her head a table off in the corner where she and Steve could sit relatively undisturbed. As he went over and got settled, she carried Ron and Moretti's meals to them. "We'll be over in a little bit," she said. "Right now, we have some private business to discuss."
"Ok, Cheryl," Steve began again when she came to join him, "what do you think is going to happen that might 'blindside' me if you don't tell me about it now?"
"Well, Emily's been through a lot."
"Yeah, and?"
"Well, in her life, a lot of bad things have happened as a result of things she did. It wasn't her fault, but some of her ideas caused a lot of people to die."
"You're talking about the China virus and the electron bomb, aren't you?" Steve was suddenly defensive. In the months since she had saved his life, he had gotten to know and care very deeply for the young policewoman, and he wouldn't tolerate anyone making any kind of accusations against her.
"Hey, relax, Steve, I don't blame her for any of that," Cheryl said quickly, trying to prevent her long-time friend from losing his temper with her. "She was young and trusting, and she was used. That's all there is to it."
"Ok, then why bring it up now?"
"Well, what if she blames herself?"
Steve frowned in thought for a few moments and then said, "I think I see where you're headed, but explain it for me."
"Steve, I'm probably wrong."
"Yeah," he agreed, "you probably are, but tell me what you were going to say anyway."
"Well, it's just possible that she's setting herself up for a conviction, maybe as a penance for all the terrible things that people did with her ideas."
Steve became very still as he realized that Cheryl could be right about the real method behind Emily's madness. When he spoke, it was in a desolate tone. "She's just clever enough to pull it off, too, without the judge or her lawyer even knowing, isn't she?"
Cheryl placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Steve, and like I said, I hope I'm wrong."
He patted her hand, and in a quiet voice said, "I know, Cheryl, I know."
"She's pretty mad at us," Steven warned Alex when he met him outside the courthouse. "She doesn't want to postpone the trial, but I really think we should. I don't think she is physically strong enough to go through with it right now."
Alex looked at the worried young man and said, "No offence, Steven, but I'm not sure you're the best one to make that judgment right now. You're in love with her and understandably want to protect her at all costs. I think you did the right thing in calling me."
The two men walked into the conference room, to find Emily and her parents arguing.
"Daddy, I said, 'No', and that's what I meant," Emily insisted. "Not, 'I'll think about it,' not, 'maybe.' I want to get this over and there is no way I am going to ask Judge Greer to postpone the trial."
"Sweetheart," Olivia said, "I just think if you waited until you get a little better . . . "
"Dammit, Mama, I'm not going to get better! I . . . " Emily stopped short, and covered her mouth with one hand. Alex saw the horror on her face as she realized that she had just revealed the one hard truth from which she had been trying to protect her loved ones.
"Emmy?" Olivia gasped.
"Kiddo, what are you talking about?" Keith asked.
Alex moved to stand protectively behind his patient and put his hands on her shoulders. When she didn't respond to her father's question for several moments, he asked, "Would you like me to explain?"
Her only answer was a nod of the head, so Alex motioned for Keith and Liv, Steven and Bruce to sit down while he told them that Emily's recovery had come to a grinding halt.
"As soon as I took over her care, Emily requested that we try stem-cell therapy to repair her damaged heart muscle and to regenerate the kidney we had to remove," Alex began, knowing that this was the first time these people, who so dearly loved his patient, had heard any of this. "That was two months ago, and it didn't take. We tried three different injections with no success. It appears that the BioGen virus has changed her cellular structure to the point that the stem-cells don't know they're supposed to replicate and form new tissues in her body."
"What about a transplant?" Keith asked.
"There's a cloning study at the Mayo clinic," Liv suggested.
"UVA has an artificial kidney implant ready for human trials," Steven said, and Alex raised a curious eyebrow. He hadn't heard about that, and he thought he was current with all the research that affected his patients.
"Is she fit for trial?" Bruce needed to know. They really didn't need court to reconvene if Emily couldn't withstand the stress. It would irritate and inconvenience Judge Greer and probably count against her in the end.
He smiled and tried patiently to answer each of their concerns. "Keith, a transplant isn't a good option for the same reason the stem-cell injections didn't work. Because of the BioGen infection, Emily's body would just reject it. Liv, Emily and I have discussed the possibility of cloning, and she isn't interested . . . "
"Emily, I really think you ought to at least try . . . " Olivia began lecturing in a 'mother knows best' tone.
"Mama . . . "
"No, Olivia," Alex interrupted firmly before the mother and daughter could get into an argument about it. "Emily and I discussed the possibility, and she is dead set against it, for what I think are very good reasons. As her doctor, I respect her decision, and I think you should, too. Perhaps, at a later time, when she is under less stress, the two of you can discuss her reasoning, but for now, I think it would be best for her if you would just accept that she isn't going to do it."
Olivia looked like she wanted to slap him, but Alex stood bravely behind his patient and faced the angry mother. After a moment, Olivia bowed her head briefly. When she looked up again, her expression had softened, and she reached across the table to take her daughter's hand.
"Emily, baby, I'm sorry," she said softly. "Try to understand. No matter how grown up you get, you'll always be my little girl. Sometimes it's hard to accept that I don't always know what's best for you any more, especially when you've been so ill. It is your decision, and maybe later you can help me understand why you have made this choice, but for now, Alex is right. It's not something we should be arguing about."
Emily smiled and said, "Thank you, Mama, for trying to understand. Basically, I just don't want to be a lab rat." She looked at Steven and said, "I hadn't heard about the artificial kidney trials, but I wouldn't be interested in them, either, for the same reason."
"You won't be able to go back to work, Kiddo," Keith told her.
Emily smiled sadly. "I know, Daddy, but if I don't win this trial, that won't matter anyway. That's why I didn't want to tell you until after."
"Speaking of the trial," Bruce said to Alex, "is she well enough to go through with it?"
"Well, if I were to go on just what Steven told me when he called the hospital, I would have to say no," Alex said, "but I would very much prefer to examine my patient for myself, in private." He turned to Emily and said, "Since the judge has called an early lunch, why don't you give your folks your order? While we are talking, they can go get whatever it is you want."
Emily smiled and turned to her father. "Daddy, you know what I like. Surprise me. Just don't get anything too heavy or spicy, ok?"
"Ok, Sweetheart, one surprise coming up," Keith told her and took his wife's hand and led her out of the conference room.
"We'll be back, soon," Olivia said as she followed him out.
"We'll all be back soon," Bruce said, as he stood up from the table and jerked his head as an indication that Steven should come along, too, "so we can decide what to do next. First, I need to know about your medical condition, and I will need that information from an objective source." Looking gravely at Alex, he said, "Dr. Martin, if she is not well enough to continue, you need to be honest with me. Judge Greer does not like games, and if it even only appears we are using her medical condition to play for sympathy, things could go very badly for her indeed."
Alex nodded. "I understand," he said. "I want what's best for my patient, Counselor, and I will not mislead you just to get this trial over with quickly. If she is unfit, I will tell you."
Steve looked up from his lunch, for which he had lost all appetite after Cheryl's suggestion about Emily's motives, and he saw Olivia, Keith, Steven, and Bruce Delong in line purchasing soup, salads, and sandwiches. Before he knew it, he was on his feet and walking toward them, a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. Only when Olivia, looking puzzled and concerned, frowned at him and then turned to Bruce Delong, did he realize that, as a witness for the prosecution, he wasn't supposed to be talking to the defense.
He stopped in mid stride and put his hands in the air as an indication that none of them should approach him. From where he stood, so that none of the court personnel could suspect he was discussing testimony in the case, he asked, "How's she holding up?"
Steven looked at Bruce, who nodded his consent for the young man to speak.
"She's hanging in there, Dad," he said. "It's been a strain, but she insists she's ok to continue. Alex is examining her now just to be sure she's all right. We may ask for a continuance or a postponement if he says she shouldn't be allowed to carry on right now."
"Alex? Why did you call him? What's wrong with her?" Hearing that Emily's personal physician had been called to the courthouse worried Steve.
Steven looked around and saw several reporters frantically scribbling notes. Deciding that he wasn't going to help them write another scintillating story about his girlfriend, he repeated, "It's just been a strain is all, and we want to be sure she's ok. We can talk more after the trial, ok?"
Steve could tell from his son's tone that there was more wrong with Emily than a little tension headache, but he also realized that his son was trying to protect her privacy, something she'd far had too little of since she had come out of hiding with Moretti. So, despite the dozens of questions still burning in his brain, Steve just nodded and went back to his seat as Steven, Keith, Liv, and Bruce Delong paid for their lunch and left.
Emily took a small bite of the chicken salad sandwich her father had brought her and sipped on her lemonade. It wasn't bad as far as cafeteria food went, but frankly, she preferred the meatloaf at Community General. Bruce took a mouthful of his soup and bit into his sandwich before he said, "So, what do you think, Doc? Is she fit to continue?"
Alex sighed. "That depends," he said. "Her blood pressure is higher than I would like to see it, and it hasn't come down much since Steven called me. Can you convince her to take some medication?"
"Alex, I already said no. This is just temporary. I'll be just fine when the trial is over, and you can stop talking about me in the third person as if I wasn't even here."
"I know that, Em, but I'm concerned that your heart won't be able to take the strain until the trial is over. If you don't let me give you something, I will declare you medically unfit to stand trial. Now, what will it be?"
She stared at him mutinously for several moments, but, knowing he had the upper hand, Alex just stared back in patient expectation. When she began rhythmically drumming her fingers on the table, he offered, "I'll give you a choice. You can take a diuretic to combat the high blood pressure or an anti-anxiety drug to combat the nervoucness that is causing the high blood pressure."
"Hell of a choice," she muttered. "Valium or something like it could just as easily make me act even stupider in court, but if you give me a diuretic, it will take a few weeks to pin down the appropriate dosage, and you'll probably make me wait until then to proceed."
Alex nodded. "That's right. But you cannot continue in your present condition, so you might as well do something. A low dose of Valium or Xanax should take the edge off without making you act . . . "
When Alex paused to search for a word, Emily bluntly supplied, "Stupid."
"Ok, without making you act stupid," Alex agreed.
"All right," Emily finally gave in, "but make sure it's the lowest available dosage. I seldom take anything, so I could be more sensitive than most people to whatever you give me." She turned to Bruce and said, "Could we inform Judge Greer of the situation now and explain that if the medication doesn't have the desired effect we may still need to request a continuance. If the meds don't work, he'll be less irritated if he's forewarned than if we suddenly have to stop proceedings again out of the blue."
Bruce nodded, "What exactly do you want me to tell him?"
Emily thought a minute and then said, "That I am suffering a serious stress response, but I want to continue with the trial. My doctor has prescribed some medication that should control my anxiety, but if it doesn't, we will need to request continuance. Also convey my apologies for disrupting his courtroom earlier, and emphasize that I am eager to complete this trial today, providing my medical condition allows it."
While Emily had been talking, Bruce looked at his watch. It was eleven thirty. He wolfed down his sandwich and half his soup and by eleven thirty-five, he was on his way to inform the judge of Emily's situation.
Emily sat looking at the remains of her lawyer's lunch for a moment after she swallowed small white tablet Alex offered her. Then she smiled and asked him dryly, "You wouldn't happen to have any antacid tablets, would you? I think he's going to need them."
"Six sevens," Steve said.
Steve, Cheryl, Ron, and Moretti had finished their lunches a while ago, and they were occupying themselves by playing Liar's Poker with dollar bills, bidding on the digits of the serial numbers of their bills as if they were hands of cards. Steve was doing rather well, despite the fact that he was distracted with worrying about Emily, but then, he was just naturally lucky at games of chance. Jesse had once attributed his gambling luck to karma. Fate allowed him to win at low-stakes betting as compensation for all the times he had been shot up, beaten up, and blown up by the bad guys and for the times he had been dumped on by the women in his life before he met Maribeth.
Steve could tell Cheryl was trying to figure out if he was bluffing. The fact was, he didn't have any sevens, but if the other players had just two each, he'd win their dollars, again. The outcome of the round was determined by combining the serial numbers of everybody's bills to determine if the 'hand' a player bid could be made of the digits on all four dollars. Steve was willing to bet that there were six sevens among the three eight-digit serial numbers on his companions' bills.
"I . . . "
"Excuse me, folks," the bailiff interrupted before Cheryl could call his bluff, "but court is about to reconvene, and you need to return to the waiting room."
Steve grinned as Cheryl scowled, and he took out his wallet to put his money away. "I guess we'll find out soon just what Emily was up to, huh?"
"I suppose," Cheryl said, "and we can continue this game while we wait."
"Oh, I don't think so," Steve disagreed. "We'll have to start a new hand when someone is called in to testify. You can't expect me to stick with a bid of six sevens when we're down one player."
"I suppose not," Cheryl agreed. "Especially when you were bluffing to begin with."
"Bluffing? Me? What makes you think that?"
"Think, nothing!" Cheryl countered. "I know you, Sloan, and I can tell when you're bluffing!"
"Oh, so you lost the last three hands on purpose just to, what, give me a false sense of security?"
"Now, children," Ron said to his friends as they continued their good-natured dispute. "The law is a serious business, and you need to stop this foolishness before the trial resumes."
"He started it," Cheryl pretended to pout.
"She's just a sore loser," Steve replied.
Ron and Moretti just laughed at their mock argument, and the companionable banter continued all the way to the waiting room.
