The Very Worst Man

by Laura Stapleton

  Pushing away his worry, Hayden focused on the what-and-why of Alexandra avoiding Maxine. “Have you been able to text with her at any time since she saw him?”

  “No, not before last weekend.”

  Four days of this and she was just now calling him? He took a deep calming breath and asked, “Did you try her home phone, assuming she has one?”

  “She does, and she doesn’t answer that either.”

  A thick tickle of fear raced along his nerve endings. “Have you driven by her house, knocked on her door?”

  “Not yet. I’m in Dallas until tomorrow.”

  Maxine couldn’t physically go to her house, but he could. “All right. I’ll check on her and will call you as soon as I talk to her.” He clicked open her file, copying Alexandra’s address on a sticky note.

  “Thank you, Hayden. You’re really a good friend.”

  He turned off his computer monitor and draped his jacket over his arm. “Would you do the same for me?”

  “Hells yeah.”

  “There you go. I’m returning a future favor.” He clicked off the phone and locked the doors on his way to the car. A quick entry of her address into his GPS and soon he pulled into her driveway.

  He looked in the window on his way to the front door. A single light glowed, and he suspected it was the TV. He rang the doorbell, knowing it worked by the sound he heard from outside. Nothing. He rang it again and waited. Still nothing. Fear settled into the pit of his stomach. Maybe she was home and seriously sick, or even dead. She couldn’t be, he wouldn’t allow it. Hayden knocked on the wood door with his knuckles. This time, he heard sounds, or the lack of them when the TV clicked off. The porch light above switched on, and Alexandra’s door opened just enough for him to see half her face. “Alex, is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. Please leave.”

  Her eyes seemed bloodshot and had dark circles in the dim light. Even at the worst of Stan’s trial, he’d never seen her look so horrible. “It doesn’t look fine at all. Let me in so I can see for myself.”

  “No.” She closed her door.

  “You have to,” he shouted so she’d hear him through the wood. “Maxine sent me and if I don’t tell her you’re ok, she’ll kick my ass.” He waited for a while, wondering whether to knock again or call and tell Max that Ax was alive.

  The door creaked open, and she stepped back so he could enter. “All right. Come in, but it’s a mess.”

  Stepping in, he couldn’t see anything until she turned on the small foyer’s light. If this was her messy, her clean must be sparkling. “It looks great in here.”

  “Low lighting helps. Wait until sunrise. You’ll see how awful it all is.” She picked up a couple of glasses from the overflowing coffee table and went to the kitchen. “Have a seat. Don’t get comfortable, just call Max to tell her I’m fine.”

  “All right.” He sat down as she suggested, taking out his cell phone at the same time. Punching in Max’s number, she picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello. Please tell me she’s alive.”

  “She’s fine. She’s sitting right here in her home.” He didn’t want to scare Maxine, but didn’t want to lie either. Options raced through his mind and he picked a nice, safe adjective. “The place looks nice and she looks nice too. A bit scruffy due to the wrinkled pajamas, but otherwise fine. How are you?”

  “Thank goodness. I was so worried.” She paused, then sounded confused, asking, “What? I’m fine and does she want to talk?”

  Having heard due to the earpiece’s projection, Alexandra shook her head. “I’ll owe her a long bitching session later.”

  Yelling in his ear so her friend could hear, Maxine said, “Ok, tell her I’ll hold her to it and catch you later, Hay. Thanks a mil.”

  “My pleasure.” Hearing her click off, he put up his phone. He tapped his fingers on his knees, wanting to ask more questions, but not wanting to be nosy.

  She sank down onto her sofa next to him. “Thank you for telling her. You can go now. Everything is fine.”

  “Alexandra, I can tell it’s not fine at all. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.” She took a tissue from the box and folded it into a small square.

  “I know better than that.” He tried to stop the urge to ask, but it only lasted a few seconds. “What happened? Is it your practice? Stan?”

  Her eyes filled with tears until they overflowed and ran down her cheeks. She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m being overly sensitive.”

  Against his better judgment to not get involved with her and Bromley’s drama, he scooted over to her. “Why don’t you tell me about it, and I can judge for myself?”

  “It’s hard to say out loud.”

  “I understand.” He patted her knee, the gesture feeling odd and inadequate to how upset she seemed. “Just say it fast like you’re ripping off a Band Aid. I can’t help if I don’t know the problem.”

  “It’s Stan.” She licked her lips catching a tear at the corner of her mouth. “He was angry at me during our visit. He wanted me to bring money, but I didn’t have….”

  He waited for a few moments before finishing her sentence. “You didn’t have it to bring.”

  Fresh tears spilled down and she shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I barely had enough for the gas there and back. I get good gas mileage too.”

  “Was he angry at how you didn’t have the cash?” He asked the question and knew the answer.

  “He was and thought I was lying. I honestly don’t have the money after I pay bills. My staff is already lean at the clinic, and we have no corners left to cut. Stan was right. I do make good money and have a nice home and car, but I don’t think I’m selfish. Though I can be bitchy at times.”

  Hayden frowned, not liking anyone saying negative things about her. “Who said you were bitchy?”

  “Stan did. His exact words were ‘selfish little bitch.’”

  He’d heard worse said between people closer than Stan and Alexandra. She seemed way too upset about a common insult, and he had to know more. “So that’s not a word he’s called you before now?”

  “No.” She used the hem of her nightshirt to blot the tears. “There’s always been this undercurrent of anger between us. Most of the time, he’s angry with me or on the verge of it. I’m always doing or saying something that sets him off. He’s a high-strung person. But not until he was locked up….” She sniffed. “It wasn’t until then that I realized how stressful life was around him. Always having to mull over every word I said, make sure every opinion I had matched his, and defer to him in every way.”

  Biting back the demand of why someone would be so stupid as to give in so easily, he searched for a tactful way to phrase his question. “Why would you do something like that anyway? I know his background. He should be glad he has someone to help him.”

  She gave a watery laugh. “He would say I’m too much the martyr. In fact, he did use that exact word.”

  The hate he had for Stan Bromley hardened into a knot in the pit of his stomach. The guy couldn’t have it both ways. Either Alexandra was a bitch or a martyr because a bitchy martyr didn’t make sense. “Let me guess, when he demanded cash from you in addition to the bills you’re paying for him and you refused to hand over the money, he got ugly.”

  “Um hm.” She began crying, face buried in her hands. The sound muffled, she said, “I’ve worked my whole life to be a dependable sister he could be proud of, and he hates me.” After clearing her throat, she added, “He brought up mom and dad’s death and him having to raise me as if I were a huge burden to him, but I was already halfway done with college. He didn’t have to raise me. I was fine on my own. Always have been, always will be.”

  Her last words wavered and she started sobbing again. Hayden had dealt with crying clients before now, just not any that he loved like Alexandra. As if biting on a bone hidden in ground beef, he almost reacted to the thought with a protest out loud. It wasn’t love, not for
her. He didn’t know the woman well enough yet and couldn’t be involved with her even if he wanted to be.

  Not wanting to see her so upset, he put an arm around her and she leaned into him, pressing her face into his shoulder. He patted her upper arm, saying, “It’s just him lashing out because he’s upset. He’s in a rough place and used to you picking up after him. From the background checks, you’ve always been the one there to help. This time you can’t and it’s his problem, not yours.”

  She pulled away, looking him in the eyes. “You did a background check on us?”

  A little surprised she hadn’t already suspected he would, Hayden replied, “Of course I did.” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal, nothing invasive, just the usual criminal and financial records. They’re available to the public if you know where and who to ask. It’s my job to know before going to court.”

  As if waking up from a dream, Alexandra scooted over on the sofa and folded her arms. “I don’t like how you know everything about me and I know nothing about you.” She shook her head and reached out for the remote. After clicking on the television, she muted it before saying, “You’ve reported back to Maxine and can leave now.”

  The soft glow illuminated the trashy coffee table. Paper plates and empty soda cans littered the surface. Lily would have had a field day with all this mess, eating or playing her way to exhaustion. Hayden glanced from the mess to her. “Is this how your house usually looks?”

  “No.” She stood and went to the kitchen, taking some forks with her. A half wall divided the rooms so he could hear them clang into the sink as she added, “I usually don’t do enough here to have a mess.” She paused before blowing her nose on a paper towel. “I have a frozen dinner, read a little or watch TV, then go to bed.” Coming back into the living room with a fresh paper towel, she added, “I couldn’t sleep in bed for a couple of nights, so I came in here and let the noise distract me into sleep.”

  He bit his tongue on how frozen dinners shouldn’t be a way of life. Instead, Hayden stood and went to the kitchen. Having some idea where the trash can was he found and picked it up, bringing it into the living room. “Here’s something to know about me. I’m good in a crisis.” He put the paper plates into the trash, leaving the cans for recycling. “Also, I don’t know the more personal aspects of your life because they weren’t relevant to the murder.” He gathered up the remaining forks and went back to the kitchen. They went into the sink and he exchanged the trash bin for recyclables. “That means I don’t know your favorite food, unless it’s microwavable. I don’t know the color of your underwear or the name of your first pet.” He frowned, now done with cleaning up the empty cans. “In fact, I don’t know your mother’s maiden name. Not that it matters now.” He put the recycle bin back.

  She followed him with a can he’d missed from the side table. “So you would be ok with me getting your criminal and financial records too?”

  “Sure. I can tell you right now the criminal is easy. There are a couple of speeding tickets, maybe a parking ticket too. Financial information always feels invasive no matter who you are, but my salary is set by the state legislature and easily found with an Internet search. If you need to know right this minute, it’s a little over a hundred k, not including benefits.”

  “All right. I suppose that’s good.”

  He grinned at her wary look. His candor had her off guard, and he enjoyed keeping her guessing. “I know you’re not married. Neither am I. We both have older brothers. My parents are still alive, while yours are not and I’m truly sorry for your loss. It’ll happen to me someday, and I’m already dreading it. Then there’s….” He paused before talking about his sister in law. Alexandra was looking at him with something warmer than hate. Hayden didn’t want to spoil that by reminding her she didn’t have a sister in law alive anymore. “More family, cousins, aunts, uncles, all that. Next, I have an apartment while you have a real home. You’re a successful business owner while I’m a state employee.”

  She undid her tissue from squares and refolded it into triangles. “I don’t know about successful.”

  Unsure if she was fishing for compliments or honestly didn’t know how busy she seemed, he patted her knee again. “It is. I’ve seen your parking lot when I’ve had to drive by, and it’s usually always full.”

  “We keep busy, thanks to Dr. Gibson. I’m still in debt from buying his practice.”

  Hayden nodded, having seen this on her financial record. She had a good amount of liability, but had the income to match. Her brother’s debt to income ratio was in better shape, even if his numbers had fewer zeroes than hers. “I ran the report before Stan’s conviction to get a true snapshot of the time around the murder. I needed to see if money was a motivator.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “It wasn’t. I could have told you that myself. He owns mom and dad’s house free and clear, his truck isn’t very old, and he didn’t have a gambling problem. He drank some and having to suddenly quit is probably why he’s so cranky now.”

  “Prison will do that to you.” He suspected if Stan were desperate enough, her brother would be making some sort of liquor in his cell’s toilet bowl.

  Alexandra laughed. “Probably so.” Turning her head to him, she asked, “Are we compromising anything by talking about him?”

  Mentally scanning the statutes he’d read since first seeing her, Hayden shook his head. “I don’t think so. You’re hell bent on proving him innocent, and I can’t find him anything but guilty. We’d probably have a problem if I was in a romantic relationship with you while working to free him.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “In a relationship with you?” Even in the dim light, he saw her blush and chuckled at her reaction. “Not that I know of.”

  She pushed his shoulder as if shoving him away from her. “You know I meant working to free him.”

  “Hell no. He’s guilty as sin, and I can’t prove otherwise.”

  “Oh.”

  Her reply had been so quiet he’d barely heard it. “I’m sorry, Alexandra. I’ve been over everything with a fine toothed comb, and there’s not a shred of evidence to prove anyone else but him was in the house the night Ms. Bromley was murdered.”

  She shivered. “There has to be something. Stan has insisted to me that he didn’t kill her.”

  “That leaves us two options. One is that he’s lying.”

  “Not possible. He’s an honest man and would never lie to me.” Her lower lip trembled.

  Considering the names Alexandra’s brother called her at their last visit, Hayden disagreed. He shelved the argument for another time and let that false statement pass without commenting. Instead, he wanted to follow her free Stan train of thought to its dead end. “The second option is you were the next to last person to see her alive and the other suspect.”

  “I know. I wondered if I’d stayed a little later if I’d have run into the killer on his way out there and maybe stopped him somehow.”

  He stared at her, trying to not blurt out the truth. Hayden took her hands, turning her to him and said each word as if imprinting them into her memory. “Let me be brutally honest with you. There is no other evidence; no tire tracks in the dirt; no DNA that says anyone else but you, those two, and the EMTs were there that night. If Stan didn’t kill her, her death wasn’t a suicide, and paramedics didn’t kill her, the only other person in the world who could have killed her is you.”

  “Do you think I did it?”

  “No, of course not. I read the investigative reports. She wasn’t wearing your fingerprints around her neck, and you have a smaller knee than your brother. And while I’m sure you’re strong, breaking her jaw with your fist would have broken your hand as well.”

  Staring down at her hands still held by his, she said, “Stan has always said he didn’t kill her.”

  “Everything else says he did. I wish I could change what happened for you, but I can’t. I’m also very sorry you have to go through this, but Bromley is where h
e belongs.” He didn’t want to be cruel, but she had to know the unvarnished truth. “In fact, I’d wanted to push for the death penalty.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed as if studying him. “Why do you hate him so much? What’s in it for you to kill him?”

  Her thinking emotionally instead of reasonably bothered him. He could tear the feeling apart later, examine why, but for right now, Hayden needed to explain how none of this was as personal as she imagined. “I don’t want the man dead. I want justice for his wife. You were there when I demonstrated what exactly it took to kill her. Plus, you know the facts of the case. Now think about her, where she is right now, and how her parents feel. What do you think is a good punishment for the man who killed Sheila?”

  Alexandra sat there, staring through the television instead of at it. He waited for her to say something to rebut his argument, but she didn’t move. Hayden let go of her hands and began to stand until she spoke.

  “Stan killed her, didn’t he? I’ve been denying and have been wrong all this time.” She looked at him. “I don’t know what to do about this or how to fix it for him.”

  Her lost expression broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine how he’d react if his brother had killed someone and couldn’t blame her for being loyal. He just wished she could see the truth without the pain that came with it. “There’s nothing you can do. The case is over except for appeals, and honestly? I wouldn’t waste the time or money. I meant what I said about sending innocent men to prison. If I had even a shred of doubt, never mind reasonable doubt, I’d have considered a plea bargain.”

  “He killed her and he hates me.” She reached for another tissue to replace the shredded one in her hands. “It’s the opposite of everything I’ve ever believed about him.” Alexandra glanced at him and shook her head before worrying the new tissue. “He lied and I believed every word.”

  Hayden knew she must have been feeling foolish for believing in Bromley. He couldn’t let her take the blame for her brother’s deception. “Honey, if I hadn’t seen the evidence for myself, I’d believe him. The man is a great liar. He’s charming and is decent looking enough that people want to think the best about him.”