Fatal Judgment
Page 31
“Do you want to share them?” The flecks of gold in her green eyes sparkled as her own lips curved into a sweet, appealing—irresistible—smile.
“Why don’t I demonstrate instead?”
Closing the distance between them, he claimed her lips in a tender, careful kiss.
After a few moments, he started to draw back. But much to his surprise, she pulled him near again, extending the kiss. He didn’t protest.
When he broke contact at last, he stayed close, their faces inches apart. “I want you to know I don’t usually kiss the people I’m assigned to protect.”
“I’m glad you made an exception for me.” She sighed, and her smile faded as she touched his stubble-roughened cheek. “It’s been a tough few weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Yes. But they’re behind us now. Let’s focus on tomorrow. And getting to know each other better.”
“I like that idea.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle tug. “In fact, I think you should present me with some more evidence as to what tomorrow might hold. And how we might go about getting to know each other better.”
He chuckled, loving the teasing light in her eyes. And the longing in their depths. “Are you angling for another kiss?”
“Absolutely. Any objections?”
“No objections, Your Honor.”
And claiming her lips once more, he set a precedent for their future.
Epilogue
Five Months Later
As the doorbell of her tiny rented bungalow rang for the third time, Liz huffed out a breath and gave up trying to secure the flimsy strap on her second sandal. Pulling it off her foot, she dangled it from her finger and limped over to the door, off-balance in her single two-inch heel.
It took only a quick peek through the peephole to banish her frustration and bring a smile to her lips.
Jake stood on the other side—looking heart-stoppingly handsome in tan slacks, an open-necked white dress shirt, and a subtly patterned sport jacket. Perfect attire for church and the birthday brunch for Alison that would follow.
Twisting the dead bolt, she slid back the lock, then pulled open the door. “Hi.”
His slow, intimate smile turned her knees to jelly. As did the appreciative perusal he gave her clingy floral sundress.
“Nice.”
“Thanks.”
He gestured to the sandal in her hand. “Were you taking that off or putting it on?”
“On.”
“Too bad.” He winked at her.
Heat stole onto her cheeks. As she’d discovered over the past few months, Jake knew how to flirt. Big time.
And she loved it.
“Come on in. I’m having trouble with the clasp on this strap.”
She hobbled toward the couch, and he set down the small shopping bag he was carrying to reach for the sandal.
“Let me take a look.”
She handed it over, and he examined the catch. “I think it’s just a little stiff. Are these new?”
“Yes.”
He sat and motioned for her to do the same. “I like them. Let me have your foot.”
She lifted it, and he slid the shoe on, pausing to touch a polished toenail. “Pretty.”
“I thought my first sandal event of the season deserved a pedicure.”
“No arguments from me. Painted toenails are very sexy.” As he slipped the sandal on, cradling her foot in his hand a few seconds longer than necessary, he grinned at her. “Do you feel like Cinderella?”
She chuckled. “That would make you Prince Charming.”
“If the shoe fits . . .” He secured the strap.
“Cute.”
Setting her foot on the floor, he rested an arm along the back of the couch while she rose to collect her purse.
“Don’t we need to leave?” She snagged a lacy shawl off the wing chair that was too big for the tiny room. One of these days she had to get serious about looking for a bigger, more permanent place.
“In a minute.”
At his pensive tone, her heart skipped a beat and she clenched her hands around her purse. “Is something wrong?”
“No. But we got a letter addressed to you a couple of days ago.”
“ ‘We’ as in the U.S. marshals?” A shiver of anxiety rippled through her, and she sat back down beside him.
“Yes.” He frowned and linked his fingers with hers. “It’s nothing bad, Liz. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She clung to him and took some deep breaths. She was getting over the trauma from last fall. Slowly. The physical evidence was fading, and she was doing better psychologically too. There were sometimes even consecutive nights when she didn’t wake up trembling or screaming or crying. But the slightest whiff of danger was enough to bring on the shakes.
Her counselor said that would pass in time.
She hoped he was right.
“It’s okay.” She managed a shaky smile. “You just got very serious all of a sudden. What kind of letter is it?”
He withdrew the envelope from the inside pocket of his sport coat. It was larger than a business-letter size and a bit bulky.
“It’s from Patricia Reynolds. We opened it for security reasons. I wasn’t sure you needed to revisit all the bad memories, but after debating the pros and cons, I think it may actually help you move on.”
He held it out to her, and for the space of several heartbeats Liz regarded the hand-addressed envelope with the strange stamp and the Sierra Leone return address. If it was anyone but Jake suggesting she read it, she’d have refused. She didn’t need any reminders of the trauma. But over the past few months, she’d learned to trust his judgment.
Taking the envelope, she pulled out the single sheet of paper that was folded around several photographs. She set the photos in her lap, opened the letter, and read the short, handwritten note.
Dear Judge Michaels,
I have prayed for your full recovery over these past few months. I trust this finds you healing both physically and emotionally.
I wanted you to know that as my brother’s sole heir, I sold all his possessions except for a few sentimental items and used the money to construct a school building here in the village where I live and work and teach. Now my bright, eager students are protected from the elements as they learn, and they have access to resources that have opened a whole new world to them. I’ve enclosed a few photos.
While nothing can ever make up for the loss of your sister or the terror you were forced to endure, I hope you can take some comfort in knowing that out of all that adversity, the children in one tiny African village have been blessed with a brighter tomorrow.
My prayers will be with you always, Judge Michaels. May the Lord comfort and sustain you all the days of your life.
Blinking back tears, Liz sifted through the photographs. Children with ebony faces smiled back at her from a cheery, modern classroom. There was also a group photo taken in front of the new school building.
Fingers brushed against her cheek, tender, consoling, and then she was pulled into two strong arms and nestled against a broad, solid chest.
“Are you okay?”
Jake’s gentle query came out muffled against her hair, and she nodded.
“Yes. I’m glad you showed it to me. I do think it will help me move on. And push me a little farther down the path toward forgiveness.”
She stayed in the shelter of his arms as long as she could, but at last—reluctantly—she tugged away and stood. “We’re going to be late for church. I don’t want to keep your mom and Alison and Cole waiting.”
“We have plenty of time.” He refolded the letter around the pictures, slid it back into the envelope, and set the packet aside.
“I thought you said the service at Alison’s church was at 10:30?”
“I lied.”
She shot him a startled look. “You want to explain that?”
“Sure.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come sit by me again. I have something else that ma
y help you move on.”
An odd nuance in his inflection put her on alert. It sounded like a touch of . . . nervousness? But that was completely out of character. She’d never met anyone more steady and in control than Jake.
Curious, she joined him on the couch. Once she’d settled beside him, he reached into the small shopping bag at his feet, withdrew a ten-inch square box wrapped in silver paper and topped by a fresh hibiscus, and held it out to her.
She tipped her head, puzzled. “It’s not my birthday.”
“Presents aren’t only for birthdays.”
Giving him a speculative glance, she reached for the box.
“Use both hands.” He kept a firm grip on it until she obliged.
She understood why when he released the package. It weighed a ton.
“What’s in here? A brick?”
He grinned. “Open it and see.”
Carefully removing the hot-pink tropical flower, she ripped off the silver paper to find a sturdy white box. Intrigued, she lifted the lid.
It was filled almost to the top with sand.
Pink sand.
Confused, she looked over at him. “I don’t get it.”
“How many places in the world have pink sand?”
“Only one that I know of. Bermuda.”
“The very place you mentioned to me once that you’d like to visit.”
“Okay. And that’s significant because . . . ?”
“Dig around a little. You never know what you’ll find. That’s why beachcombing is so popular.”
Burrowing her fingers into the fine sand, Liz fished around—then froze when she encountered an object that felt a lot like a ring.
Heart racing, she slowly pulled out an exquisite marquise-cut diamond set in a gold band.
She stared at it for a long moment before she could tear her gaze away. “Is this . . . Are you . . . ?”
“Yes, it is. And yes, I am.”
He plucked the ring from her fingers, set the box aside, and took her hand. No trace of levity remained on his face.
“Over the past few months, I’ve come to believe our reunion wasn’t coincidence, Liz. And that this”—he lifted the ring—“was the road we were meant to travel. Especially since I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone.” His voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m not all that great with touchy-feely stuff. But the fact is, I can’t imagine my life anymore without you in it. So, Judge Michaels, I rest my case. Will you marry me?”
As Jake gazed at her, the love shining in his eyes warmed a place deep in Liz’s soul. She’d known this day was coming. Known she was falling in love, and that Jake felt the same way. So after much prayer in the quiet of countless lonely nights, she’d made her peace with her mistakes, put her guilt over Doug’s death in God’s hand, and opened herself to the future the Lord had planned for her.
The future Jake was offering her now.
A flicker of uncertainty flashed through his eyes when she didn’t respond, and she felt a tremor in his hand. The same hand that had always been steady and sure and unshakable, no matter the crisis or danger he faced.
Her heart melted.
“So what’s the verdict?”
Smiling, she held out her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. “The verdict is . . . a happy ending for both parties.”
A grin chased the tension from his features, and he slid the ring on her finger.
“You weren’t really nervous, were you?” She looped her hands around his neck, loving the feel of the gold band on her finger.
“Am I under oath?”
She chuckled. “Cute. So am I to assume a Bermuda honeymoon is included in this deal?”
“That would be a safe assumption.”
She scooted closer and touched the tip of her nose to his. “What date did you have in mind for the big occasion?”
“The sooner the better?”
At his hopeful tone, she laughed and backed off a little. “I have a very full docket, Marshal Taylor. It could take some time to clear my schedule.”
“I could give you a reason to speed things up.”
At his husky response, her heart skipped a beat. “It would have to be a very persuasive argument.”
His eyes darkened. “I’m very good at persuasive arguments.”
And as his lips claimed hers, Judge Elizabeth Michaels had to admit that Jake made a very compelling case for a wedding.
The sooner the better.
Acknowledgments
Writing a book like Fatal Judgment requires intensive research. Although much of my background information is gleaned from books or the internet, I rely on expert sources to fine-tune and vet my work. A number of them deserve special mention for their assistance with this book.
I offer my heartfelt thanks to the following:
U.S. Marshal Don Slazinik, who not only served as my technical expert throughout the writing of this book, patiently answering my many questions, but who also read the entire manuscript. His suggestions allowed me to portray the U.S. Marshals Service with a degree of accuracy I could not otherwise have achieved.
Circuit Judge Richard Bresnahan, whose tweaks to the judicial sections provided a final touch of authenticity.
Attorney Jack Horas, who walked me through the intricacies of a malpractice suit.
Barry M. Levine, MD, who reviewed the medical sections to make sure I got it right.
FBI veteran Tom Becker, now the chief of police in Frontenac, Missouri, for his always gracious answers to my FBI-related questions.
Captain Ed Nestor from the Chesterfield, Missouri, Police Department and attorney Laurel Siemers for their invaluable referrals to authoritative sources.
I also want to thank the amazing team at Revell—especially Jennifer Leep, Kristin Kornoelje, Twila Bennett, Michele Misiak, Cheryl Van Andel, Deonne Beron, and Claudia Marsh. You are the best!
A special thank you as well to the master of inspirational romantic suspense, Dee Henderson, who was kind enough to read this book and offer me a fabulous endorsement. I am honored by her praise.
Finally, loving thanks to my parents—my favorite proofreaders and tireless cheering section!—and to my husband, Tom, whose keen interest in my literary career is one of my greatest blessings.
Irene Hannon is a bestselling, award-winning author who took the publishing world by storm at the tender age of ten with a sparkling piece of fiction that received national attention.
Okay . . . maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But she was one of the honorees in a complete-the-story contest conducted by a national children’s magazine. And she likes to think of that as her “official” fiction-writing debut!
Since then, she has written more than thirty-five romance and romantic suspense novels. A four-time finalist for Romance Writers of America’s coveted RITA award (the Oscar of romantic fiction), she took the golden statuette home in 2003. Her books have also been honored with a HOLT medallion, a Daphne du Maurier award, and two Reviewers’ Choice awards from RT BOOKreviews magazine.
Irene, who holds a BA in psychology and an MA in journalism, juggled two careers for many years until she gave up her executive corporate communications position with a Fortune 500 company to write full-time. She is happy to say she has no regrets. As she points out, leaving behind the rush-hour commute, corporate politics, and a relentless BlackBerry that never slept was no sacrifice.
A trained vocalist, Irene has sung the leading role in numerous community theater productions and is also a soloist at her church.
When not otherwise occupied, she loves to cook, garden, and take long walks. She and her husband also enjoy traveling, Saturday mornings at their favorite coffee shop, and spending time with family. They make their home in Missouri.
To learn more about Irene and her books, visit www.irene
hannon.com.
Books by Irene Hannon
Heroes of Quantico Series
Against All Odds
; An Eye for an Eye
In Harm’s Way
Guardians of Justice Series
Fatal Judgment
www.IreneHannon.com
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Author
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