“Michael?” Jenna laid her hand on his white knuckles, tightly gripping the cell phone. “What’s wrong?”
He blinked, staring into her deep blue eyes, eyes that only hours before had widened in passion. Now, they were dark, filled with concern. From the corner of his eye, he could see the press converging. He had to get out of there. The old saying, “The truth will set you free,” was a bad lie. If the truth came out, it would end his career and his relationship with Jenna.
Pushing away from the building, he shook off her hand, ignoring the pain that flickered for just a second in the blue depths of her eyes. “I have to go.”
“Michael, wait. Go where?” Jenna held her hand up to the press, staving them off for one more second.
He turned, smiled wistfully, and shook his head at the converging press. “Enjoy your win. I’ll tell you later.”
“Miss James! Are you disappointed that you didn’t get the death penalty?”
“Will there be an appeal?”
Questions fired at her from all directions, and Jenna pasted on a smile that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes. The jury had barely left the room before returning with a unanimous guilty verdict. Normally, sentencing would have taken place several weeks later, and she would have had time to prepare for their questions, but Judge Carter was retiring and wanted to finish this case before he left the bench, so sentencing had commenced immediately after the verdict.
“Yes, I am disappointed that we didn’t get a death penalty, and no, I don’t believe there will be an appeal. Aran Travello can consider himself lucky with life without parole.” Her eyes followed Michael’s back as he crossed streets, moving quickly out of her line of sight. She needed to end this and go after him.
“Was it difficult for you to prosecute this case, Miss James?”
Jenna scanned the crowd until she found the face behind the voice. He was older than the other reporters and more unkempt. Hatred lashed out at her from the beady black eyes. He sneered, his mouth twisting, voice lowering. “Or did you enjoy it?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand your question.”
He moved forward through the crowd, dark eyes never leaving her face. The sneer widened as he came closer. “It must have been hard to prosecute the killer of a homeless immigrant.”
Jenna felt the color drain from her face, the slight tremble of her hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time for any more questions today.” She moved away from the crowd, eyes glued to the green light as she prayed for it to change.
He followed her, his voice triumphant. “But Miss James, isn’t it true that your parents were butchered by an immigrant worker twenty years ago? Could that be why you didn’t push harder for the death penalty?”
The remaining journalists, even those who knew and liked her, were gathering round him, voices clamoring to be heard over the sounds of traffic.
“Is that true, Miss James?”
“Did you let Aran Travello off easy?”
Jenna stood for a moment, hands clasped tightly around her briefcase, back straight. The light changed to red, and the small sign signaled it was safe to walk. She wanted to scream at them. Instead, she waited until the sign flickered that time was almost up. She nodded a silent plea to the patrolman at the corner and, without glancing back, dashed across the street.
CHAPTER THREE
Rage had replaced his anger by the time Michael made it to the apartment. The son of a bitch! All he thought about was himself. He knew Michael was intending to announce his candidacy in three months. Now he’d be stuck for God-knows-how-long cleaning up another one of his father’s messes.
He poured a glass of scotch and downed it. And what the hell had his mother done that time to incur the old man’s wrath? His hand clenched the glass. She’d probably spouted off about something that wasn’t any of her business, just like every time before. He’d told her over and over again to keep her mouth shut and stay in her place.
He poured another shot and downed it quickly. He’d have to clear his schedule at the office, fly to Kentucky, and make arrangements to have his mother’s body brought back here.
“Damn you!” He threw the glass against the wall just as the apartment door opened.
“Michael!” Jenna covered her face as pieces of shattered glass pelted her.
“Oh, God, Jenna, I’m sorry. Are you all right?” He removed her hands from her face, running his fingers through her hair and over her arms and neck. “Are you cut?”
“I don’t think so.” Jenna pushed back from him, noting the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes.
“Michael, what’s wrong?”
Dropping his hands to his sides, he shook his head. “It’s my mother. She’s dead.”
Jenna reached out, pulling him into her arms. “What happened?”
He pushed her away, reaching for another glass and the scotch decanter. “My father just said there was an accident. I don’t know yet. He wants me on a plane to Kentucky immediately.”
“What can I do?” she asked. “How can I help you?”
Michael kept his back to her as the scotch kicked in, placating his tattered nerves and easing the rage inside. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Public sympathy would be on his side—and he’d have the inheritance. He wouldn’t have to worry about begging for campaign funds. He needed to think fast. Jenna would start asking questions soon, and he wasn’t prepared to answer them yet. A small smile played around his lips. A mother’s death was supposed to be a horrible thing, but in that case, it just might be a blessing in disguise.
Turning, he pulled her close, enjoying the comfort of her arms, the tangy smell of her perfume, the softness of her touch. All he had to do was keep her close for a little longer. “Dad’s planned a small service in Kentucky this evening, and then we’re flying back with the body tomorrow.”
“But...” Jenna pulled back from him. “But Michael, he can’t do that. I mean, there’s no way. Even with an accident, there’ll be an autopsy. You can’t just go pick up the body and fly back. Not even Judge Elkins has that much power. And what about your brother?”
Michael flopped down on the couch. When one started telling lies, one had to keep it up. Unfortunately, he’d chosen the wrong lie. Still, the best defense was a good offense. He needed to change the subject, keep her off guard. He homed in on Jordan. “What about Jordan? He made his choice. Besides, I don’t even have time to tell him. Dad’s having the service in Kentucky tonight at six. We’re flying back tomorrow, with interment here tomorrow evening at nine. I’ve got to clear my schedule at the office, and if I can catch a plane, I’ll just make it for the service. I’ll have to call Jordan when I get back.”
Jenna crossed to the closet, pulled out his suitcase, and began packing clothes for him. Michael’s words had sparked something deep inside her, something she didn’t want to look too closely at just yet. She couldn’t believe the callousness of a father that would deny his son the right to say goodbye to his mother. She’d met Judge Elkins only once, and that meeting had left a bad taste in her mouth.
She was seeing something similar in Michael, an insensitivity she’d noticed more and more lately. It was one of the things that had made her want to end the relationship. She’d see him through his mother’s death, and then the two of them would have to talk.
Jenna closed the suitcase, picked up the phone, and called the airport. She jotted down the pertinent information, hung up, and then called a cab. If he left now, he’d have just enough time.
Michael had not moved.
Kneeling before him, she placed her hands on his knees, forcing him to look at her. “You’re going to your mother’s service. I’ll take care of your office and Jordan.”
His face hardened for just a moment, his eyes flashing something she didn’t understand, but it pushed her away from him.
He reached out and pulled her back, gently touching her face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. This whole thing has me shook up. Did I eve
r tell you I love you?”
Jenna flinched. Something about the way he touched her and the way he said “I love you” made her feel cheap and dirty. Recovering quickly, she pasted on a smile and stood up. “No, but we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that later.”
He rose. “I’ve got to call the office.”
“I’ll do it. The cab should be downstairs, and you have just enough time to get to the airport.”
Michael nodded, grabbed the suitcase, and kissed her lightly. “About Jordan...”
Jenna pushed him toward the door. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle it.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Jenna stood staring at the closed door for a long time, her mind numb from the morning’s events. At first, she’d thought she was imagining things, but Michael really was different. Of course, she’d been flattered when he’d asked her out. He was one of Corpus Christi’s most eligible bachelors and, if the rumors were true, the legal community’s next golden boy. So, when had his jokes stopped being funny and his lovemaking stopped being passionate and tender? When had he stopped listening when she talked about a case she wanted desperately to win? He was a defense attorney, but he’d seemed sensitive to her victims’ plights. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She should have ended it the previous month. That’s when she realized it was over for her and when she’d realized Michael wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.
The conversation played through her mind. They’d just made love, and she was telling him about her latest rape case.
“He beat her and raped her. What’s wrong with a man like that?”
Michael had rolled over, turning his back to her and commenting, “She’s just a whore, Jenna, she probably got what she deserved.”
Jenna sighed heavily. She’d known that night she could never love a man that believed a woman could ever deserve to be beaten or raped. She’d spent more and more time at the office, using her job as an excuse not to go out with him.
“Damn it, Jenna Patience James, you should have gotten out of that bed and walked away right then. Then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Maybe she was just too sensitive about the trial and carrying her misgivings over into her personal relationship. The journalist’s question had caught her off guard and made her question her own motives. Had she been soft on Travello? His rap sheet was twenty pages long, but all his previous crimes had been nonviolent. She’d taken that into consideration, as had Judge Carter. She’d asked for the death penalty only because of the severity of the crime. Travello had killed the man slowly with a knife. He’d butchered and mutilated the body beyond recognition. In her opinion, he deserved the death penalty for the crime, but he had fallen short of the Texas definition of capital murder. She’d known as soon as she looked at the presentencing investigation she was going to lose the death penalty.
Her cell phone vibrated again, and she glanced at the number and grimaced. “Damn it.” David had already called three times. She couldn’t put him off forever. By now he would have heard the rumors, and she knew what was coming. It wouldn’t matter to David Garcia that she’d put in between sixty and eighty hours a week for the last five years while being paid for less than forty. It wouldn’t matter that her conviction rate was the highest of any assistant DA in the history of the office. And it wouldn’t matter that, until she’d started dating Michael six months ago, she’d totally put her personal life on hold to pursue her career. “The hell with it.” She punched in the office number.
“Sarah, it’s Jenna. Put me through to David.”
“He’s like a caged lion, Jenna. What happened?”
Jenna sighed. It had been too much to hope that her past would stay forever buried. She’d actually done nothing wrong, but she should have recused herself from the case.
“Just put me through to him.”
“Hello.”
“David...”
“What the hell were you thinking, Jenna? I’ve been on the phone with Judge Carter for the last half hour. He’s threatening to declare a mistrial.”
“That’s ridiculous, David. There was nothing inappropriate in how I handled the trial or the sentencing. Look at the PSIR. Travello had no priors for violence. I couldn’t get the death penalty no matter how hard I argued for it.”
“Were your parents killed by a homeless immigrant?”
“Yes, but...”
She could almost hear his seething anger on the other end of the phone. He’d take it as a personal affront that she hadn’t told him about her parents and recused herself from Travello’s case.
“You know as well as I do, Jenna, it doesn’t have to be inappropriate. All it takes is the appearance of impropriety, and scumbags like Travello go free. I’m meeting with Judge Carter this afternoon. There’s been a rumor that the PSIR was tampered with and Travello has another murder and violent crimes on his record. The press is crucifying you and Carter. He’s agreed to issue a statement to the press in the morning. Either way, I think it best if you take some of that stored-up vacation you’ve been saving.”
Jenna clutched the phone more tightly, not quite believing her ears. She hadn’t even seen the PSIR until right before court began that morning. But you knew something was wrong with it. A man with that many non-violent crimes doesn’t just suddenly butcher someone for a bottle of wine. “You’re suspending me?”
“I’d rather not call it that. I’m asking you to take a week or two off and let this blow over.”
“David, that’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong. My parents were killed twenty years ago. I didn’t even think about that when this case started, and I’ve got too many cases on my desk to just walk away.”
“Grant can handle the minor stuff until you get back. I’ll handle the major ones.”
“David, don’t do this. I don’t care about the press and what they’re saying. I’ve got a rape case coming up. Grant can’t handle that, and you’re sick. You don’t need that stress. Please, let me do my job.”
The silence on the line tightened her stomach muscles. He sighed, long and deep. “Don’t make me suspend you, Jenna. Take your vacation, and we’ll fix this.”
The sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver broke the numbness, threatening to unchain the emotions lying just beneath the surface of her composure.
Not yet. She’d promised Michael she’d take care of his office and Jordan, and Michael’s office had handled Travello’s defense. If the PSIR had been changed, then the odds were Merced or someone in that office had done it. The question was why. Travello was a nobody. She needed answers, and to get them, she’d need access to Michael’s office. If she ended the relationship, she might never find the truth.
Her mouth set in a thin line. She hadn’t had a vacation in five years. Once she’d taken care of Michael’s problems, she was also going to find a certain journalist and ask some serious questions.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jenna took a moment to catch her breath and jot down some notes. She glanced at the clock. Thank God the closing arguments, verdict, and sentencing had ended early and it was just one o’clock. Even with that, the day was moving too quickly. Clearing Michael’s calendar had taken much longer than necessary simply because his secretary was a nosy bitch. Instead of offering condolences for Michael’s loss, she’d been more interested in how Jenna felt about the trial. Rumors must have been flying fast.
She’d promised Michael she would deal with Jordan, but she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone and call the prison. How do you tell someone over the phone his mother is dead?
She crossed the room and flipped on Michael’s computer. If she were lucky, she’d be able to access Jordan’s file. She pulled up her court.net account and ran a search for Jordan Elkins. Within seconds, she had the complete record. She printed it out, grabbed the pages, and headed for the door. The bus ride to the prison would take at least an hour. She’d have plenty of time to read.
Jenna stared at t
he wire stretched along the top of the fence. Maximum security. Judge Elkins had taken no chances that his wayward son would escape. She’d been shocked at the sentence when she read the file and even more shocked to find that David Garcia had been the prosecutor. David knew she was dating Michael, but he’d never mentioned the fact that he knew the family.
Jordan Elkins had been nineteen, just starting college with a promising career in marine biology. And where were the psychiatric reports to back up Michael’s claim that Jordan was mentally unstable? He had no priors, so why had Jordan Elkins received a twenty-five-year sentence in a maximum security prison for threatening his father with a gun? At most, he should have gotten a ten-year sentence and then been eligible for parole in two years. The whole thing should have been handled as a domestic violence case, yet David had prosecuted him for threatening a federal judge. Jordan was probably lucky he didn’t get life without parole.
Jenna stood still as a female guard patted her down and searched her purse, taking apart her cell phone. She’d be lucky if it still worked when she left.
“You can go on in.”
“Thank you.” Jenna said.
The sound of the door clanging behind her sent cold chills down her spine. She was beginning to question her sanity in coming here. She didn’t even know Jordan, and he’d spent five years inside those walls. If he hadn’t been unstable when he came, he probably was now.
She followed the guard’s directions and entered a small visitation room. She sat down at a wooden table and clasped her hands, eyes closed as she prayed, “Give me strength, Father.”
“I doubt he’ll hear you in here.”
Jenna opened her eyes, shock and surprise widening them as she stared at the young man entering the room. A guard followed him in and closed the door behind him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Standing, she held out her hand but pulled it back, her face flushing, as she noted his chains.
Jordan Elkins wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She’d thought he would resemble Michael, but nothing could have been further from the truth. They were, in fact, total opposites: light and dark. Jordan was at least six foot three, compared to Michael’s six feet. His hair was wavy midnight black, compared to Michael’s shocking blond. The only thing they had in common was the deep brown eyes, yet Jordan’s were still different, more copper colored than brown… and older, shadowed as if his eyes had seen things human eyes should never see.
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