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murder last year.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen why wouldn’t you tell this jury if you had a vision that you believed added information that should be used in deciding guilt or innocence in this case?”
    Chelsea shook her head. “It’s just not something I would do. It’s a completely different circumstance to tell the police about a murder in the first place than to say something when I’m on a jury. A jury has to decide on evidence.”
    â€œWell, if it comes from God, isn’t that evidence enough?”
    â€œIt’s not evidence as provided in court. The evidence that a judge instructs a jury to rely upon.”
    Stan Breckshire leveled beady eyes at her. “So you would not tell anyone.”
    â€œNo. I would not.”
    He raised his hands as if in deep quandary. “Then why would God send you a vision about the trial at all, if there’s nothing you could do with it?”
    Chelsea stared at him, momentarily befuddled. “Who said he would?”
    â€œWho said he wouldn’t?” the attorney shot back. “You yourself indicated that you can’t control these visions.”
    â€œI … That’s true.”
    â€œSo who’s to say your ‘God’ wouldn’t send you one about this case? You certainly claimed he sent you one about last year’s trial.”
    Chelsea flinched at his sarcasm.“I don’t claim to know what God will or will not do, sir,” she said quietly.
    â€œBut what if you did have what you call a ‘vision’ about this case?” His voice grew louder. “Would what you ‘saw’ affect your decision in any way?”
    How to answer such a question? Chelsea breathed a prayer for the right words. “As I said, the way I understand it, the jury hears evidence in a trial, and they must listen to the judge’s instructions as to how to weigh that evidence as they deliberate. I would follow those instructions.”
    â€œBut”—the attorney pressed his forefinger against the podium—“what if God told you to do something different from what the judge told you? Who would you obey?”
    There was the clincher. Everyone in the courtroom knew it. Jury members on the front row openly leaned forward to ogle Chelsea, awaiting her answer. She could feel the sets of eyes behind her, watching. The whole room seemed to hang on her reply.
    Kerra’s desperate needs pulled at Chelsea’s heart. Wasn’t this question God’s means of allowing her to be with her niece? And of giving her a way to get herself excused, as Paul wanted? For how could she not answer that she would obey God above all else? Wasn’t that the truth?
    And yet for some reason Chelsea sensed this was not what she should say.
    God, help! What do you want of me?
    She opened her mouth and words flowed of their own accord. “The Bible tells us to obey the government. I can only tell you that if I were on this jury, I would listen to the judge’s instructions and follow them as I reviewed the evidence brought out within this courtroom.”
    The prosecutor’s thin lips pressed as he leaned halfway over the podium. “Do you want to be on this jury?” he demanded.
    Chelsea smiled wearily.“No. Believe me.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    Frustration tightened her throat. “Sir, there are other places I’d rather be right now. If I may suggest, since you don’t want me on this jury, can’t you just send me home?”
    A gleam appeared in his eye. “Do you want to go home?”
    â€œI sure do.”
    He turned to the judge in sheer desperation.
    She spread her hands and shrugged.
    â€œShe wants to go home, Your Honor.” He sounded almost petulant.
    â€œSo do I, Mr. Breckshire.” Her tone was dry. “It’s after five o’clock.”
    He sighed. “Fine.We can resume this questioning tomorrow, if you like.”
    The judge gave him a