The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and heat floods my neck and cheeks. "Because only a jackass would allow the police to question him without an attorney present. Hamilton would have done the exact same thing."
"Harold set it up," Alex says. "I was on auto-pilot the first few days after it happened. It seemed like a bad dream I couldn't wake up from, and I let everyone make decisions for me. I answered questions they asked, but I had no cognizant recognition of what I was saying and doing. I was trying so hard to get the image of my mother lying there dead out of my head. I just shut down."
I slide closer to him on the couch and hold tightly to his hand. "I can only imagine what you were going through, Alex. It doesn't surprise me that Jack would have insisted on accompanying you to the police station. Too many things can go wrong when you're that emotional, and unable to properly understand what's going on around you, or the implications of answering a question in a way the police may consider suspicious."
We both turn our attention back to the TV. An old interview with Harold, Alex's adopted father and uncle, is playing. "No, I never knew my sister was being abused by her husband."
It quickly changes to a woman who lived next door to the Wells'. "I never would have suspected that James could do this to his wife. He was always so nice."
"It's important to note…" Another shot of Hamilton in his office. "There is no evidence of domestic violence by James before his wife died. No calls to the police. No visits to the emergency room. No doctors noting bruises or other injuries inconsistent with actions. And not one teacher feared the children were living in an abusive environment."
Old news footage shows a young woman standing outside the courthouse. "William Wells, the second youngest of the Wells children, testified that he heard Alex Wells yelling at his mother sometime after his father left the house."
"Jesus, they're taking this all out of context," Alex says, raking his hand through his hair.
The reporter appears on the screen. "Perhaps the most damning statements that point to the possibility that Alex Stone may have been more involved in his mother's death than he claims, comes from his own statements to the nine-one-one dispatcher."
"Okay. The police are on their way. I'm going to stay on the line with you until they get there. What is your name?"
"Alex Wells."
In the background, Alex murmurs. It's so quiet, I can't tell what he's saying.
"What?" The dispatcher asks.
The voice is louder. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Christ," Alex says, rests his head against the back of the couch, and closes his eyes.
I focus on the TV screen. A psychologist is speaking. "James Wells really didn't stand a chance against his son's testimony. No one wants to believe a child is capable of killing a parent. It's much easier to place the blame on an adult."
The shot cuts back to Geoffrey Hamilton. "Look, James Wells may not have been a saint. He drank too much and was abusive towards his wife on occasion. Alex Stone witnessed these outbursts. The more I delve into this case, the more it seems clear that the sins of the father have been passed down to the son. Alex Stone may have picked up where his father left off that night, and taken it to a deadly extreme."
The glass of scotch whizzes past my head and shatters against the wall. "Fuck you!" Alex howls.
There is a buzzing. Alex looks at his phone. "Hey."
Will is yelling so loud, I can hear him even though Alex is a few feet away from me. "Those fucking assholes! They have no idea what they're talking about. They made it seem as if that bastard should get sympathy or something."
"I know. It's complete bullshit," Alex says.
I walk into the kitchen and grab the broom and dustpan before glass ends up in someone's foot.
"No, I know, little brother. They twisted everything around. I know you never thought I hurt Mom."
I gather up all the shards of glass and toss them into the trash in the kitchen. Alex comes in, tosses his phone on the counter, and wraps his arms around my waist.
"I'm sorry about throwing the glass. It was impulsive and immature."
"It was also understandable," I say, and kiss him. He pulls me against his chest. I can hear the rapid beat of his heart.
"What's this all about? Why, after all these years, is he coming back into our lives? Why the sudden interest in this case?"
"I don't know, Alex. I'll call Matt in the morning and see what he knows." I tip my head back so I can see his face. The dispassionate expression he displayed for the majority of the evening is gone. His eyes are glassy, dazed. "We'll figure this out, I promise."
He pulls me back into him, and nuzzles in my hair. "I hate this. I despise that man, and resent the hell out of him for disrupting all our lives again. He's hurt us enough for one lifetime."
"We'll figure out what he's trying to accomplish, and we'll stop him. He's no match for us. He has no idea the force we make together."
I hope my words convince Alex that we can beat his father. And I hope I can actually deliver on my promise—whatever it turns out to be.
Chapter Six
We turn into Jack's driveway and I try to remember the last time I was here. Missing a chunk of time out of my life skews my timeline. I know, however, it's been way too long since I spent an evening with the two people I consider my pseudo-parents. Jack took me under his wing and became my mentor after I left the public defender's office and went to work at his law firm. After meeting Annabelle at a Christmas party, they unofficially adopted me into the family. Next to Ryan and Paul, they are who I consider family.
Dinner is casual and comfortable, even with the news program still lingering in the periphery. Public opinion is beginning to swirl with discussions of whether James Wells received a fair trial and should be granted a new trial. The most disturbing outcries, however, have centered around the allegations that Alex was responsible for his mother's death. Most people agree that James was solely responsible. But there is a vocal minority that are rattling the cages, and demanding the investigation into Ellen Wells' death be re-examined, with closer scrutiny of Alex and his potential role in his mother's murder.
Alex has been tense most of the day, growing more irritated with the news reports that he eventually turned off the TV and buried himself in work. Now that he's had a few glasses of wine, his jaw unclenches and he's laughing. Annabelle gathers up some of the dishes and heads into the kitchen.
Jack leans across the table, and pats my hand. "Alex, do you mind if I steal our girl here for a chat about business? Annabelle refuses to allow such discussions at the dinner table."
"Not at all." He stands and grabs my plate, placing it on top of his. "I'll help Annabelle clear the dishes so we can have dessert." He turns and walks into the kitchen and I can hear Annabelle gushing over him. I can't help but smile. Alex has a way with people, and women often fall all over him, but with Annabelle—it's different. She treats him like a son, and makes no bones about how proud she is of him, and how much she loves him.
I follow Jack into his study and sit down on the settee across from him in his leather wingback chair.
"Talk to me about how you're doing?" he asks. "And don't give me the answer you gave Annabelle so she wouldn't worry about you."
I smile. "I really am okay, Jack. The doctors are happy with my recovery, and confident that I'm in the clear."
"And what are your plans professionally? Do you think you will return to practicing law?"
I let the question sink in. I've never considered not practicing law. I figured it was a matter of when I would return.
"I'd like to, I just know that it comes with some obstacles. I haven't discussed it with Alex yet, but I can't imagine not litigating. I love it. There's nothing I'd rather do."
My hands are clammy. I wipe them on my pants, and work through how to tell Jack I'm not coming back to the firm. I can't work there. It's where John and I met, started dating, and broke up. Pe
ople watched as he slowly started to unravel mentally the closer Alex and I became. Many of them despised me after John was fired. They blamed me. Some of them paid his bail. Once he was free, he hunted me down like prey and intentionally shot me in front of Alex. There's just too many bad memories associated with that place, and I need a new start.
"I'm thinking about…going out on my own." I hold my breath and stare at Jack.
He takes a deep breath, leans back in his chair, and strokes his chin. "I think that's a smart move for you—professionally. It's probably a good time for you to be your own boss. There is a certain satisfaction in being able to choose which clients you want to represent."
All the air rushes out of my chest. Warmth washes over me. "You have no idea how relieved I am right now."
A deep chuckle rolls through his body. "Do you have office space?"
I shake my head. "No, this idea is still pretty much in it's infancy. I haven't even talked to Alex about it, yet."
"Well, I can't help you with Alex, but I can help you with the other. It just so happens that I own the building where I first started as a sole practitioner too many years ago to count. The main level is a clothing boutique or some such thing. But the offices above are vacant. The tenant recently moved his office to a larger building with more space. So, it's yours, if you want it. It's on Main Street, not far from the courthouse, and still close enough that we can meet for lunch."
"Yes, I want it. Thanks." My head is spinning. I can't believe that what started as a fleeting thought has mushroomed into reality in the span of a few short hours.
"Nothing to thank me for. Let's meet in the next couple of days so you can see the place, and get the keys."
"Great. Um, Jack, I wanted to ask you about the news program last night. Did you watch it?"
His face reddens and his lips flatten into a thin, white line. "Yes, I saw it. I didn't want to bring it up in front of Alex."
"I assume Geoffrey Hamilton is planning an appeal for Alex's father. Do you think the allegations James is making against Alex will be an issue?"
"I would hope not, but I've been in this business a long time, and seen appeals granted on some pretty flimsy arguments."
"I'm going to meet with Matt tomorrow. Hopefully he'll know more."
Jack shakes his head, "Hamilton is going to puss this as far as he can, even if it means he tries the entire case in the court of public opinion. You can bet he's getting something in exchange for representation. I've never known Geoffrey to do anything out of the goodness of his heart." We stand, rejoin Alex and Annabelle, and enjoy the remainder of the night.
But Jack has me thinking—what does Alex's father have that Geoffrey wants? And how far is he willing to go to get it?
Chapter Seven
Thomas drops me off in front of the courthouse. People fill the sidewalk, spilling into the street, holding up signs.
"I don't know how long I'll be," I say. "I don't imagine it will take too long, but I'll text you."
Thomas nods his head, gives me a two finger salute, and drives away. People are chanting, holding signs over their heads, and making it difficult for anyone trying to gain access to the courthouse. I can't tell what they're saying, and I'm not sure I care, but they are starting to piss me off and are making me late for my meeting.
"Excuse me." I elbow one guy in his side, and he moves enough for me to get by him.
"Justice for James," he yells at me. I jerk my head, stare at him for a moment, and I can't believe what I just heard. He thrusts his sign in front of me.
Alex Stone is a murderer.
I push past him, and manage to reach the steps of the courthouse. One of the state troopers, Bill Stanley, is standing at the door, making sure people coming in have a reason to be there. He opens the door, pulls me through, and closes it before the mob outside can worm their way in.
"That reporter sure stirred up the hornet's nest. Looks like more than a few people want your boyfriend to burn at the stake," he says.
I glance out at the mob. "Idiots. They have no idea who James Wells really is." It's unfathomable to me that people can watch such a slanted report, and without any further research into what actually happened, will demand justice that has already been meted.
I walk into the District Attorney's offices and check in with the receptionist. She calls Matt, hangs up, and tells me to go on back to his office.
"Kylie, come on in," Matt says when I knock. He reaches across his desk and shakes my hand. "How're you doing?"
"Good," I answer. Another man is standing off to the side. I hadn't noticed him when I came in. "Sergeant Reyes, it's nice to see you again."
"It's very nice to see you, Ms. Tate." He smiles, his eyes lingering on mine, a slight flush creeping up his neck and hitting his face. What the hell is that all about? I've only been around him on a few occasions, when he was assigned to investigate John. While he had always been friendly toward me, it was always professional. Funny enough, there was no love lost between Reyes and Alex—they hated each other from the first moment they met.
"Uh, Sergeant Reyes is an investigator for my office, so I've asked him to join us," Matt explains.
I don't have time to analyze Reyes right now. James Wells cannot get out of prison. It would break Alex. So, this is now priority number one.
"So, what do you know about the James Wells case?" I ask Matt.
He slides a file across his desk. "Take a look. It was waiting for me this morning. Perfectly timed with last night's program. They must have been waiting to hear from the court before airing the news program."
A notice of appeal, filed by Geoffrey Hamilton, is at the top. My heart races. Even though I knew this was the most likely outcome, I'm still shaken.
"What's he claiming?"
"What isn't he claiming?" Matt chuckles. "New evidence, prosecutorial misconduct, ineffective assistance of counsel, lack of physical evidence connecting Wells to the crime, and a failure of law enforcement to adequately investigate other potential offenders."
"You have got to be kidding me? He's not actually going to accuse Alex of killing his mother?" I flip through the appellate brief, and scan the assertions.
"That's exactly what he did argue."
I look up from the file, "Did?"
Matt points to the file, "Keep looking."
After the voluminous notice, with supporting evidence and case law, is the order of the court. I scan the document to find the decision, and nearly drop the document once I read it. "Oh, God, they reversed the conviction?"
"Never underestimate the power of public opinion." Matt leans back in his chair, a half grin on his face. "Are you still working at Daniels?"
"No, I've decided to go out on my own. Why? Do you have something in mind?"
"Obviously, we'll be retrying the case. You have a unique advantage of being involved with the only witness in the case, and you're a decent criminal defense attorney."
I laugh. Matt and I went head-to-head in a first-degree murder trial, and my client was found not guilty. Rumor has it, Matt is still a little bitter about the loss.
"What's my role?" I ask.
"Thought you might be interested. I'm in a particularly tough spot right now. I'm up for re-election, so Mr. Wells must be convicted again, or I will most likely lose my job. I, also, have an especially full load around here, and can't give this case the attention it needs. That's where you come in. I need someone I can trust, and who wants to ensure Mr. Wells never walks free, albeit for different reasons. So, here's what I propose, you will be appointed as special prosecutor—you'll take the lead, and I'll second chair. Sergeant Reyes will be available to assist with investigating, as well."
I nod and glance at Reyes. "Okay." This is a great opportunity for me, and Alex will want me involved in this case in some capacity. Being the lead prosecutor will probably put his mind at ease. But working with Reyes is probably about as far from okay as I can imagine. There is no way Alex will be okay with Reyes
being around me, let alone working closely day-to-day, at least pre-trial. I'm going to have to figure out how to put a positive spin on this if I have any hope of avoiding a fight with Alex. "Can I keep this?" I ask Matt, and hold up the file.
"Yeah, that's your copy," Matt responds.
I rise and reach my hand across Matt's desk. "Let me talk it over with Alex and I'll let you know this afternoon." Matt nods, thanks me for coming in, and walks me out. I text Thomas to let him know I'm ready to go, exit the building just as he pulls up, and climb into the SUV. "Where's Mr. Stone?"
"He's working from home today," Thomas answers.
"Okay, let's go there." This is going to suck. Not only do I have to tell Alex his father appealed, but that the appellate court reversed the conviction and now he's going to be retried. And, by the way, I will be lead attorney—and working with Matt and Reyes. Things have gone from bad to worse in the span of an hour and a half, and, if I don't succeed in getting a conviction, the world will become a very dark place, and Alex's demon will no longer only reside in his head. It will walk amongst us.
"No," Alex says. It's so definitive. Final. End of discussion.
It takes everything in me to remain calm and try to ease into a conversation with him. "Alex, please hear me out."
"You're not ready to go back to work. It's too soon."
"It's not too soon. I've been away for two months."
"You can't even go for a run on the property without having an anxiety attack, how do you think you will last back a whole day at the firm? It's too much—too soon."
Low blow. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Alex, but I'm not going back to the firm. I resigned this morning."
"I don't understand—"
I move to the couch and sit, facing him. "I've been thinking about how I would handle going back to work there. So much has changed. Lisa's in law school. John's dead. There's no telling what the rumor mill has concocted about me over the past two months."
Revenge: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Two Page 6