by Kara Lennox
“When?” Claudia asked. “Can I come?”
Billy seemed a little surprised by her eagerness. “I’ll meet with him as soon as he can see me. But I thought I’d probably take Beth, since she’s the one who can talk at length about the blood analysis. And I don’t want to overwhelm the guy with a mob in his office.”
“Of course,” Claudia said quickly. “I guess I’m a little overanxious. I’ve consulted on several cases for you guys that have resulted in overturned convictions, but I’ve never been this invested in a case before. It’s exciting. I’m beginning to understand why you all love your jobs so much.”
“It’s rewarding work,” Beth agreed. “Have you ever thought about working at Project Justice full-time?”
Hmm, that was the second time today she’d been asked that very question. “Did Daniel tell you to ask me that?”
“What?” Beth looked surprised and confused. “No. But I think he would like the idea of having a psychologist on staff, especially if it was you. I mean, you’ve been very accommodating with your schedule, but if you were there all the time… Sorry, I get carried away.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m flattered. Maybe I should talk to Daniel about it.”
Beth wasn’t lying, that was for sure. Which meant Claudia was being paranoid about Daniel trying to manipulate her. She wished she could be more trusting, especially with people she’d known for years and had no reason to distrust.
Claudia excused herself to the ladies’ room. When she returned, their party had grown again. Mitch Delacroix had joined them, and he and Beth—who were so in love they would use any excuse to get closer—were squeezed into one side of their booth.
Claudia slid in next to Billy, but she hovered at the edge of her seat, leery of sitting too close to him. Even a healthy distance away she could feel his body heat radiating toward her.
“Hey, Mitch.”
“Hey, Claudia. I was just telling Billy about my search for Eduardo.”
“And…”
“Unfortunately, I’ve turned up almost nothing. If this guy is alive, he’s good. His Social Security number hasn’t turned up anywhere. He’s made no attempt to access any bank accounts or retirement funds. He hasn’t used any credit cards. He hasn’t used his cell phone.”
“It’s gotta be tough,” Mitch said. “For a man of his standing, used to living at a certain level, it must be hard not to touch his own assets.”
“His personal assets are frozen,” Billy said. “Until his estate is settled. Maybe he can’t touch anything.”
“He hasn’t tried. I’ve checked into the financial activities of all his known associates, including his most trusted men. I’ve talked to some of them. They think he’s dead. They honestly believe it. It appears that the Rio Grande Mafia is falling apart without his leadership.”
“He’s probably been living on funds from his illicit activities,” Claudia said. “But as those ran out, maybe he became more desperate to find the coins. Which would explain Angie’s sudden interest in locating them.”
“Coins?” Beth and Mitch asked at the same time.
Billy explained about the missing coin collection.
“Why don’t you let me take a crack at Eduardo’s buddies,” Claudia suggested. “I can tell whether they’re hiding something or not.”
“That’s not necessary,” Billy said quickly. “The blood analysis will be enough to prove Eduardo is alive. Or at least that he didn’t die the way everyone thought he did.”
Mitch, who had stolen half of Beth’s sandwich, stopped midbite. “Look, Billy, I know you don’t believe in…that is, I know you’re, um, skeptical—”
Beth had apparently kicked him under the table. She glanced over with disapproval evident on her face.
“It’s okay,” Claudia said. “I know Billy doesn’t have a lot of faith in my abilities.”
“That’s not the point,” Billy said. “I just don’t want to waste Claudia’s time. She’s already shuffled around a lot of her patients to help us.”
She was about to say that it was no imposition, but the implacable look on Billy’s face stopped her. This was his case, he didn’t want her talking to Eduardo’s associates, and nothing was going to change his mind. Why butt heads with him over it?
She’d thought he was starting to come around regarding her skills, but apparently she’d been wrong.
“I better get going,” Claudia said, hopping out of the booth. “I have appointments this afternoon. Billy, do let me know what the D.A. says.”
“Of course.”
Over Billy’s objections Claudia left some cash to pay for her meal—the foundation had picked up a number of her meals already, and she felt she ought to do her share. With a faux cheerful goodbye to Beth and Mitch, she got out of there.
Just when she was starting to think she had a grip on Billy, she realized she didn’t. Really, it was time for her to back off. For good this time.
Even if Daniel really was amenable to her working full-time at Project Justice, she wasn’t interested. Seeing Billy every day would send her right to the nearest asylum.
* * *
“IS SOMETHING GOING ON with you two?” Beth asked innocently after Claudia had left the restaurant.
“Beth,” Mitch said in a warning voice. “That’s none of our business.”
“No, there’s nothing going on,” Billy answered in a way that would guarantee they’d buy it. And it wasn’t too far from the truth—unless you counted one mind-blowing kiss.
Beth pushed the last bit of coleslaw around with her fork. “She just seemed a little flustered, or huffy, or something when she left.”
“Yeah, because Big-mouth here had to bring up the fact that I have no faith in her life’s work.” Billy made it sound as though he didn’t really care one way or another if Claudia was offended.
“Do you really think it’s a bunch of bull?” Beth asked.
Billy shrugged. “I’ll admit she’s pretty good at analyzing what someone says and figuring out motivations. And maybe she can spot a lie. Sometimes. But the whole thing with microexpressions, and that it means something if someone folds their arms or scratches their head—I mean, maybe they’re just cold, or they have an itch. I’m surprised any jury buys her song and dance.”
Billy was overstating his skepticism. He’d actually started to develop a grudging respect for Claudia’s cagey interrogation skills, which even he could admit got results when his strong-arm tactics might not.
But he didn’t want Mitch and Beth to think he’d gone soft in the head.
“You don’t believe in the whole body language thing, do you, Beth? You’re a scientist. Don’t you think what she does is junk science?”
“No, not at all,” Beth said. “I’ve reviewed the research on microexpressions and all that goes with it. It’s the real deal, and so is she.”
“Huh. But it doesn’t compare to, say, DNA, does it?”
“Nothing compares to DNA,” Beth admitted. “That’s the gold standard.”
“Well, then.” Billy acted as if he’d scored a point in their discussion. “She’s certainly not proved herself reading me. She’s way off.”
“Really?” Mitch said. “I’d think reading you would be easy. Anyone can see you’ve got the hots for her.”
“You’ve got sex on the brain,” Billy said with a laugh, though inside he felt the first stirrings of panic. Of course he had the hots for Claudia, but no one should have been able to spot it.
“No, Mitch is right,” Beth said. “I saw how you looked at her when she left for the ladies’ room. Like you wanted to devour her and protect her from the whole world, all at the same time.”
Good God. If even Beth could read his thoughts, he was terminally messed up. The skills he’d developed during years as an undercover operative—the skills that had kept him safe, kept him alive—were slipping. All because one cool-but-vulnerable blonde had gotten under his skin and wouldn’t let go.
* * *
BILLY GOT THE CALL AT 6:00 a.m., before he’d even stumbled out of bed toward the coffeepot. “Billy, it’s me, Beth. I’m so sorry, but I’ve come down with something awful, something contagious. I can’t go with you today to Montgomery County.”
He sat up and shook off the last vestiges of sleep. “You’re sick?”
“Horribly. It’s some kind of vicious virus. Can you reschedule?”
“Yes, of course.” Except that the Montgomery County D.A. was leaving the country tomorrow, going on a two-week Mediterranean cruise with his wife. The guy had gone out of his way to clear thirty minutes from his frantic schedule today; it was now or never.
Billy would figure something out. “Just focus on getting better. The world will keep turning without you for at least a couple of days.”
“Thanks.”
He thought about his dilemma all during his shower and while he mindlessly chowed down on a bowl of Cheerios. He could go to the appointment alone. But he’d promised scientific data that would blow D.A. Warren Fitz away, and Daniel wasn’t sure he could explain Beth’s laboratory findings in any convincing way.
Science was his absolute worst subject. He understood what Beth had told him about the blood evidence, but he wasn’t sure he could even pronounce anticoagulant in a way others would understand.
He could call on Beth’s lab assistant, Cassie. She was capable. But she was extremely young, and she looked about sixteen. The D.A. was old-school and would probably laugh poor Cassie right out of his office.
That left one choice.
“Claudia. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, of course not.”
He’d just caught the good doctor in a lie, because her voice was decidedly sleep-muzzy. If she wasn’t still in bed, she hadn’t had her first cup of coffee. An enticing picture floated through his mind of Claudia in a sexy negligee, or maybe wrapped in a sheet, her normally sleek blond hair tousled from her pillow, or from him running his fingers through it…
“What can I do for you?” she prompted when he’d gone too long without talking.
“Beth’s sick as a dog. I need someone to come with me to the D.A.’s office and explain, with some degree of intelligence and eloquence, the blood evidence.”
“Billy, I’m no expert on physical evidence.”
“Yeah, but you understand what Beth told us yesterday, right?”
“Yes. She did a good job explaining.”
“You’re a doctor. You testify in court as an expert witness all the time.”
“A PhD,” she reminded him. “I testify about psychology.”
“Warren Fitz doesn’t have to know that.”
“Billy, are you suggesting we lie to a district attorney?”
“No, no, of course not. No lies. But he won’t ask for your credentials. He’s a busy man. Just introduce yourself as Dr. Claudia Ellison, tell him about the blood, use all the big words, and you’re done.”
“I’m happy to help,” she said at last. “But I’ll have to tell him who I really am.”
“Okay, whatever. But I want you there. You should be there. You’ve been there from the beginning, and you can plead this case better than anyone, including me.”
“Thanks, Billy.” Her voice sounded warm, almost intimate, and Billy took a deep breath to savor it. “Tell me where and when to show up, and I’ll be there.”
* * *
MONTGOMERY COUNTY DISTRICT Attorney Warren Fitz was one scary dude. At six foot six and probably three hundred pounds, he looked more like an NFL linebacker than a prosecuting attorney.
Claudia had heard that he’d played ball in college. She’d also heard that he was old-fashioned and didn’t like to be trifled with.
She had readily agreed to help Billy convince the D.A. that the Eduardo Torres case needed to be reopened, and that Mary-Francis’s conviction should be overturned. But now that she was face-to-face with him, she wondered whether she’d made a sound decision.
District attorneys did not like having their cases overturned, because it meant they had to admit to the whole world they’d made a mistake, that the justice system had failed. And in a case such as this one—much publicized, very emotional—Mr. Fitz would have to admit that he’d sent an innocent woman to death row.
But the evidence was compelling, extremely so.
If Mary-Francis had shot or stabbed her husband in their bed, and he had bled to death, that blood would not have contained anticoagulants. There was no room for interpretation. If Mary-Francis had killed Eduardo, she’d done the deed in some other way—a way that no evidence pointed to.
They were in Fitz’s office. He sat behind his desk, arms folded, lips pressed together in a thin line. This was not a good way to begin.
Billy introduced Claudia, then allowed her to present the report Beth’s assistant, Cassie, had sent via email that morning. The report was full of big words and scientific jargon that could either impress or bore. Claudia tried to strike just the right balance between authoritative and animated. She knew a lot about testifying in court, and she pretended she was on the witness stand, facing a hostile cross-examination.
But Fitz didn’t cross-examine her. He hadn’t questioned her credentials, even though she’d made it clear she was a psychologist. He seemed to be merely waiting for her to be done.
Taking her cue, she wrapped up quickly, having made what she thought was a strong, compelling case for taking another look at this supposed murder.
“That’s all very interesting,” Fitz finally said. “But no telling where that blood sample has been since it was first tested. Maybe contaminants were introduced during the original examination.”
“Ms. McClelland used a fresh sample from the mattress cover,” Billy said. “It hadn’t previously been swabbed or—”
“How do you know that? Were you there at the lab? As I understand it, the samples arrived in a box at your office.”
“With a detailed chain of custody attached,” Billy tried again, but Claudia could already tell this was a lost cause.
“Maybe Mrs. Torres contaminated the blood herself, with cleaning products or some such,” he said with finality. “They put all kinds of chemicals in those spray bottles, including some ingredients that might coagulate blood. And if Mr. Torres is still alive, then where is he?” Fitz challenged them. “There hasn’t been a whisper out in the world to indicate he’s alive.”
“We think he’s been hiding in Mexico, where he has family,” Billy said.
“Then find him. Because nothing short of seeing Eduardo Torres walking and talking will convince me that Mary-Francis didn’t kill him.”
Billy started to object again, but Claudia subtly shook her head—a signal he was getting pretty good at reading from her. He clamped his mouth shut, took a deep breath and finally spoke again.
“Then we’ll find him. Thank you for your time, sir.” He spun on the heel of his boot and stalked out of the office.
Claudia followed. Neither of them stopped until they were outside the building, in the parking lot, where the oppressive heat seemed to soak any remaining energy right out of her. She paused at the bottom of the steps, grabbing on to the handrail.
“Claudia? You okay?”
“I’m so sorry, Billy. I’m so sorry I couldn’t convince him.”
“Don’t be sorry. You did great in there.”
“I sucked. I made it too technical.”
Billy put his arm around her and led her to a stone bench in the shade of a live oak tree. Her legs felt heavy and sluggish, no longer capable of supporting her. She sank onto the cool stone of the bench. To her mortification, her eyes filled with tears.
He sat next to her, his arm still around her, his hand splayed at her waist, branding her with his heat right through her clothes. “You can’t blame yourself. His mind was made up before we opened our mouths.”
She wished she knew why her reaction to this case was so emotional. If Mary-Francis was even a little bit nice or likable, Cla
udia could understand it better. But maybe it was the woman’s abrasiveness that moved Claudia. What was she hiding? What was she protecting? Had she ever loved her husband? Her daughter?
“She must feel so betrayed…so alone…and now we can’t help her.”
“We haven’t lost yet.”
“But before, I thought we’d won.” She looked up at Billy. “It was my fault Mary-Francis got convicted in the first place.”
“Excuse me? Did you put that blood in her bed?”
“It was my evaluation of her. I should have advised the defense counsel to bury it. Yes, I testified that she was telling the truth about not killing her husband, but I also introduced the idea that she was lying about other things. Once they branded her as a liar, the jury hated her. It was over.”
“You had to tell the truth on the stand.”
“I know, but I shouldn’t have taken the stand.”
“Mary-Francis’s lawyer was the one who made that decision. He should have known your opinion could be used against his client.”
“On an intellectual level I know all that. But that doesn’t change the fact that my testimony harmed Mary-Francis more than it helped. She’s innocent, and I helped put her on death row.”
“I understand.” He smoothed a strand of hair from her face, the gesture both sweet and intimate. How could she feel such intense desire for him even when she felt so wretched in every other respect?
“Do you really understand?” she asked. “Have you ever made a bad decision that cost someone their life?”
In that split-second delay he took in replying, Claudia saw the answer on his face. Yes. He believed he’d caused someone’s death.
But with his next breath, he went into heavy-duty denial. “No, I never have. So maybe I don’t know exactly how you feel. But I can imagine. I’m sorry you feel responsible.”
Now, on top of everything else, she felt a crushing disappointment that he wouldn’t confide in her. She wanted to press him because that’s what therapists did, but her instincts told her to back off.
She turned the conversation back on herself, to keep him at ease. “That’s one reason I’ve pushed to stay involved. I want to make this right. Even though my testimony harmed her, Mary-Francis still put her trust in me. I was the only person who believed in her innocence. She’s put her life into my hands, and that’s a big responsibility, and something I don’t take lightly.”