LIZZIE HAD JUST WALKED in her front door after another extremely frustrating shift when her cell phone rang. She paused in the act of removing her jacket, considering whether to answer it. Then she shrugged and pulled it from its resting place on her hip as she threw her jacket across the back of the couch.
“Zimmerman,” she said crisply.
“Detective Zimmerman, good morning. Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time,” D.A. Rogers began.
“Hi there. No, you’re fine, just got off shift. What can I do for you?”
“Come back to Dallas if you want a front-row seat,” he replied. “I just got notified that the jury will most likely deliver its verdict one day next week.”
“Are you kidding me? That was fast. Why would I want to be there for that?” Lizzie exclaimed, feeling her blood pressure rise. Her p
