by Linda Turner
She didn’t give him time to argue, but literally pushed him out the door, and he was only too happy to go. “Crazy bitch,” he snarled as she threw his shirt at him and hit him in the head with it. “I hope Culver does go to the cops. You need to be locked up!”
Audra hardly heard him. She had to get out of there, she thought wildly as panic raced through her bloodstream like some kind of high-priced designer drug. Out of the apartment. Out of town. Out of the country. It was the only way. Christina’s murder had made national headlines. There was nowhere she could run to that people wouldn’t have heard of it…except maybe Canada.
A sob welling in her throat, she couldn’t think of what to do next. Clothes. She’d need clothes. And her suitcase. No, she’d hocked it. Damn! She’d have to use a garbage bag.
Her thoughts in a whirl, she rushed into the kitchen and jerked open the door to the cabinet where she kept the garbage bags, only to remember that she’d used the last one just yesterday. She’d use a pillowcase instead.
She snatched the one off the pillow on her bed and started stuffing it with whatever she could find until it was full. Panties, a strapless bra she never wore, a blouse she’d tossed on the floor because it was missing a button. And all the while, only one thought ran through her head. Run!
Sobbing, the overflowing pillowcase clutched to her thin chest, she grabbed her keys and ran for the door, uncaring that she’d forgotten her jacket and it was colder than hell outside. She could buy a coat when she got to Canada.
Tossing everything into the car, she threw herself into the front seat and jabbed the key into the ignition with a shaking hand. She told herself to calm down, she’d never be able to drive if she didn’t get control of herself, but she couldn’t. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she looked wildly around for the cops, half expecting them to come screeching up behind her at any second and cut off her only avenue of escape.
But the street was deserted, and with a sigh of relief, she turned the key…only to cry out in alarm when the motor tried halfheartedly to start, then died. “No! Start, damn you!”
Horrified, she tried the key again, but this time all she got for her efforts was a painful groan, then nothing but silence as her battery gave up the ghost. Dear God, why hadn’t she gotten a new one? She’d known it was going out—Micky had been jumping it for her all week.
“A jump,” she muttered to herself. She just needed a jump. Old man Eastman, the drunk next door, would help her. She’d seen those cable things like Micky used in the back of his truck, and he was always giving her the eye. She’d promise to go out with him, and he’d do anything she wanted. Hell, he’d probably drive her to Canada himself if she asked him.
No, she told herself as she rushed over to his door and pounded on it like a madwoman. She didn’t want any company on this trip. She’d travel faster alone. “Jim! Open up! It’s Audra. I need help.”
It seemed as though she banged on his door forever before she heard him moving around inside. When he finally unlocked the dead bolt, she pushed the door open herself and sent it flying back on its hinges. “Thank God,” she breathed in relief as he stumbled backward and she grabbed his arm. “C’mon. I’ve got an emergency and I can’t start my car. You have to give me a jump.”
Hungover and not quite focusing, he frowned in confusion as she tugged him toward the door. “What? Wha’swrong? Damn, what time is it?”
“Time for me to be getting the hell out of here,” she retorted as she grabbed his keys from a hook near the door and literally dragged him outside with her. When he just stood there, still trying to get his bearings, she swore under her breath. Damn it, why did he have to be drunk this morning of all mornings? She didn’t have time for this!
But she wouldn’t get anywhere with him by swearing at him, so she gritted her teeth and forced a smile as she batted her eyes at him flirtatiously. “Jim, honey, you’re the sweetest thing for helping me this way,” she purred, tracing a finger down his misbuttoned shirt. “I’ve got to go out of town for a little while, but when I get back, the two of us are going to go out and have a really good time. Okay, sweetie?”
He grabbed at her finger and missed. “You mean it, Audra?”
“I certainly do. But first you have to help me get my car started.” Pressing his keys into his hand, she closed his fingers around them. “I’m in a hurry, Jim. If you help me now, I promise I’ll be very, very nice to you when I get back. But you’ve got to help me now.”
Finally he moved, and with a sigh of relief, Audra got in her car and waited impatiently for him to hook up the jumper cables. If he hooked it up wrong and blew up her battery, she swore she was going to kill him.
Holding her breath, she cringed as she turned the key at his signal, half expecting smoke to come spilling out from under the hood. Instead, the motor fired to life with a roar. Stunned, she laughed. “Yes! Thank you! Thank you!”
She would have hugged him, but she didn’t have time. The second he disconnected the cables, she threw the transmission into reverse and went flying out of her parking spot. Before Jim could do anything but wave, she was racing down the street.
So Micky thought he was going to turn her in, did he? she thought gleefully. The bastard. Let him try. The cops couldn’t catch her now—they didn’t have a clue where she was going. They’d expect her to take the interstate, but she wasn’t that stupid. She was sticking to the back roads and keeping a low profile. If she was lucky, she’d be in Canada by that afternoon, and then she’d be home free. She’d change her name, head east to a big city, maybe Montreal, and never be heard from again.
She had it all worked out in her head, but then she thought to look at her gas gauge and gasped. Empty. Damn it to hell! Why did everything have to happen to her?
Swearing, she pulled into the first gas station she came to and almost turned off the motor before she remembered that her battery was still low. If she cut the engine, it might not start again. Grinding her teeth on an oath, she was left with no choice but to leave the damn car running while she filled it with gas.
“Hurry,” she muttered, glaring at the pump as it ticked off the gallons. Why the hell was it so slow? She had to get out of here.
Caught up in the panic eating at her, she never noticed the two police cars that turned into the gas station until one braked to a screeching halt in front of her car and the other blocked her from behind. It all happened so fast, she couldn’t do anything but gasp before she found herself trapped and staring down the barrel of two guns.
“Put your hands in the air and step away from the car, Miss Westwood. You’re under arrest for the murder of Christina Montgomery.”
Six
When she’d come to town at the request of Garrett Kincaid to represent Gavin, Elizabeth Gardener had rented office space in a redbrick building several blocks from the courthouse. Although formally decorated with burgundy carpet and antiques, the office wasn’t cold. And that was due to Elizabeth herself. She softened the decor with fresh flowers and always welcomed Gavin into her office as if she were inviting him into her home.
Because of that, Gavin was usually able to relax there. But not the morning that his trial was scheduled to start at ten. Dread rising like bile in his throat, he could feel the walls of a cage closing in on him and it took all his self-control not to bolt. Seated beside him in front of Elizabeth’s desk, Summer offered her steady support, and he appreciated it. But there was little she or anyone else could do to help him at this point. He didn’t like to think of himself as a pessimist, but there was no escaping the inevitable. The situation didn’t look good.
Elizabeth didn’t appear concerned, however. One of the best criminal defense attorneys in the country, she was confident and fearless, and that never ceased to amaze Gavin. Didn’t she realize that most of the citizens of Whitehorn had already tried and convicted him?
Seated at her desk with her notes spread out in front of her, she looked over the top of her half-moon glasses and read
his mind. “This isn’t a popularity contest, Gavin. It’s evidence that wins a case, and the D.A. doesn’t have what it takes to slide this one past a jury.”
“But the DNA—”
“Doesn’t prove anything other than you’re Alyssa’s father. That isn’t a crime.”
“But I admitted I was there that night,” he argued. “I delivered the baby.”
“That doesn’t make you a murderer.” She spoke in that tone that Gavin had labeled her lawyer voice, the one that warned she was a force to be reckoned with when she stepped into a courtroom, even if she was a sixty-three-year-old grandmother with more gray in her hair than blond. She fought to win, and nine times out of ten, she did.
But what if she didn’t this time? Worry eating at him, he said, “I need to know my options.”
It was the wrong thing to say to a woman who didn’t like to lose. Shooting him a hard look, she growled, “You’re not thinking of copping a plea, are you?”
His stomach clenched at the very idea, but just the thought of being convicted turned his blood cold. “Just give me my options. I know we went over it all before, but tell me again.”
Left with no choice, she said, “You can take your chances and hope the jury will see things your way. If they do, you’re cleared of all charges. If they don’t, you could be facing life—or the death sentence.”
“Unless I cop a plea.”
Her mouth pressed tight in disapproval, she nodded. “If the D.A. is agreeable, you could plead guilty to a lesser charge, such as manslaughter. At the most, you’d probably get twenty years and we could push for an early release with good behavior. If you’re lucky, you’ll be out in ten.”
Stunned that he actually seemed to be considering that, Summer cried, “You can’t be serious about this! You’re innocent!”
“I have to consider the risks,” he said stubbornly.
“But you’d be giving up ten years of your life—maybe twenty—for something you didn’t do! Elizabeth, tell him!”
“Just the thought of an innocent man pleading guilty goes against everything our justice system is supposed to be about,” Elizabeth said flatly. “I don’t like it. It stinks, and I certainly wouldn’t advise Gavin to do such a thing. I’m going to fight for him with everything I have, and I plan to win. But I can’t stop him, Summer, if he doesn’t want to risk a trial. Granted, it’s not something either of us would choose for him, but it does give him some say over his own destiny. Twenty years in jail is better than life. Or death.”
Put that way, Summer had to agree. Anything was better than the death penalty. She knew that, accepted it. But everything inside her cried out in protest at the thought of him spending even a single day behind bars, let alone twenty years, for something she knew he hadn’t done. Damn it all, how could this happen to an innocent man?
“You’re right, of course,” she said huskily. “It’s just so frustrating.”
And if it was frustrating for her, she could just imagine what it must be like for Gavin. Suddenly realizing that while she’d been carrying on about the injustice of the situation, he hadn’t said a word, she turned to him in contrition. “I’m sorry, Gavin. This has to be horrible for you, and here I am, acting like a whiny baby because life’s not fair. You’re the one who should be raging. If I were you, I’d have been screaming and pulling my hair out long before now.”
“Trust me, if I thought it would help, I’d be bald by now,” he retorted. “But I learned a long time ago that that only makes the situation worse. So I pretend this is all happening to somebody else, and sometimes I actually believe it.”
He would have said more, but the phone rang and Elizabeth snatched it up. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Gardener? This is Mr. Corwin. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Surprised that the D.A. was calling her less than an hour before the trial was scheduled to start, Elizabeth didn’t fool herself into thinking he wanted to make any kind of a deal. He wouldn’t do that unless he felt he had a weak case, and he knew as well as she did that the evidence he had against Gavin was damning.
“No, of course not, Mr. Corwin,” she said, shooting Gavin a speaking glance. If he wanted her to try to get the charge reduced in exchange for a guilty plea, this was their opening. “What can I do for you?”
“There’s been a new development in the Montgomery case.”
Surprised, she stiffened, wondering how things could get any blacker than they already were. “What kind of development?”
“A new witness came forward less than an hour ago and implicated Audra Westwood—”
“What?”
“I know—I was surprised as you are. According to Micky Culver, Audra went into the woods on the old Baxter property that night to look for that lost sapphire mine everybody’s been talking about for months now. Micky followed her and was hiding in the trees when she stumbled upon Christina right after she’d had her baby. Apparently Audra panicked and was afraid Christina would turn her in for trespassing, so she hit her in the head with a shovel and killed her.”
“So why did it take Culver so long to come forward?”
“He’s in love with her,” he retorted. “Or I should say, he was. He blackmailed her into living with him until last week, then this morning, he found her with another man.”
“So he turned her in for spite,” Elizabeth concluded. “Are you sure Culver didn’t do it himself?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “He’s telling the truth. In fact, when the police picked up Audra, she was leaving town. She confessed to everything, including the fact that Lexine Baxter became involved after the fact.”
“Lexine Baxter? How did she get tangled up in all this?”
“Are you sitting down?” he said dryly. “Believe it or not, she’s Audra’s real mother. She’s the reason Audra was out in the woods in the first place, looking for that damn mine. She convinced her they were both going to be rich, then when she learned about the murder, she threatened to turn Audra in if she didn’t keep looking for the mine.”
“And what about my client?” she asked bluntly. “I assume all charges have been dropped.”
“Of course,” Corwin assured her quickly. “I would have called you sooner, but we had to get Audra’s statement first and make sure this wasn’t some kind of twisted joke. She signed a confession, though, so Gavin is free to go. Please extend my apologies to him. I’m glad it worked out this way.”
Elizabeth thanked him, then hung up, still shaking her head in disbelief. But when she looked up at Gavin, there was a smile as broad as Texas on her face. “You must be living right, Gavin. All charges have been dropped against you. You’re free to go.”
Stunned, Gavin just looked at her, his dark eyes narrow with suspicion. “Is this some kind of a joke? Because if it is, I don’t like it.”
After everything he’d been through, Elizabeth could well understand his distrust. If she’d been in his shoes, she would have been just as leery of a fairy-tale reprieve. “It’s no joke,” she assured him kindly. “Micky Culver went to the police this morning and implicated Audra Westwood. She confessed to everything.”
Rising to her feet, she walked around her desk and held out her hand to him. “It’s over, Gavin. For good. Congratulations.”
Gavin stared at the hand Elizabeth held out to him for what seemed like an eternity, unable to believe he’d heard her correctly. But then his gaze lifted to hers, and there was no doubting the sincerity he saw in her eyes.
It hit him then. The nightmare really was over.
Emotions pulled at him, tearing him in a thousand different directions. He’d been braced for the worst, sure that he didn’t have a chance in hell of escaping conviction. And now it was all over, like a bad dream. Not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, he surged to his feet and the next instant ignored Elizabeth’s outstretched hand and snatched her into his arms.
“Thank you!”
At his hoarse cry, Summer, too, stood, hot tears stinging
her eyes. It was true. Dear God, it was true! Just when she’d begun to think all hope was lost, an angel stepped forward in the form of an ex-biker named Micky Culver, and Gavin was saved.
Unable to stop smiling, she laughed as Gavin released Elizabeth, only to turn to her for a fierce hug. “I still can’t believe it,” she choked, smiling through her tears as he held her as if he’d never let her go. “All this time, Micky Culver knew and he never said anything. Why now? What happened?”
Elizabeth told them the whole story. “When Micky found her with another man this morning, that did it. He wanted revenge and he got it.”
“Thank God, he did,” Summer said as Gavin released her. Grinning, she cocked her head at him. “So how does it feel to know you’re a free man?”
“I can’t even begin to describe it,” he said simply. “I just want to get in the car and drive and drive and know that I can go as far as I want to without answering to anyone.”
“Then do it,” Elizabeth urged. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve some freedom. Go! Run away and have some fun and forget all of this for a while.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. Thanking her again for all her help, Gavin took Summer’s hand and hurried outside, feeling as if he were walking on air.
In spite of the fact that it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, the news spread through Whitehorn like a forest fire devouring dry timber. Fifteen minutes after Elizabeth Gardener was notified that all charges against Gavin had been dropped, the gossips started gathering at the Hip Hop like buzzards circling roadkill.
Emma Stover Harper struggled to take the rush of orders, but as she was about to enter her third trimester, it wasn’t easy. Maddeningly short snippets of conversation flew all around her, and it was some time before she was able to piece together the story that would no doubt have all of Whitehorn talking for some time to come. Everyone had been wrong about Gavin Nighthawk. Just as he’d claimed, he hadn’t murdered Christina Montgomery, after all. The real culprit was, of all people, Audra Westwood. The same Audra Westwood, it turned out, who was Lexine Baxter’s daughter.