A wiry woman in a floral-print dress jumped up from her seat in the back of the galley so fast she nearly knocked over the bench full of spectators. She leveled a shaking forefinger at the forewoman.

“You lied to me!” the woman said. “You told me you just wanted to get on the jury to get a book deal!” Fighting off tears, she ran out of the courtroom. At a signal from one of the prosecutors, a guard went after her.

The judge dug through the forewoman’s purse and came up with a small black cylinder, roughly the size and shape of a ballpoint pen. He held it out to Coules.

“Does this look like the murder weapon to you, Mr. Coules?” he said.

Coules took the epi-pen and stared at it.

A tear ran down the forewoman’s face. “I always loved you, Oliver. And you said you loved me. That night under the bleachers-that’s why I

… I know you meant it. Wait for me-I’ll join you in the spirit world and we can have eternity together.”

“Bailiff, take this woman into custody,” the judge said. Then he turned back to Coules. “I assume you won’t mind dropping the charges against Mrs. Mason.”

“No, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said.

The crowd burst into cheers. Veronica leapt up from her seat and hugged her defense attorney. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome… I guess,” he said, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Shawn gave a quick shudder as if he’d just woken up from a deep sleep. “Where am I?” he said. “What am I doing here? Why am I lying on the floor?”

Gus helped him back to his feet. “Good plan. Well contingencied,” he whispered as they headed toward the door, fighting their way through a throng of people begging to know who Shawn was. Gus made sure each one of them got a Psych business card.