by Joy Fielding
“So you believe in God,” Charley said.
“Don’t you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Oh, you have to believe in God,” Jill insisted.
“Do I? Why?”
“Because without God, nothing makes sense.”
“And with Him, it does?”
Jill’s face went blank.
“What sense does it make that three innocent children are dead by your hands?”
“I loved those children,” Jill said.
“You had a funny way of showing it.”
“I never wanted to hurt them.”
“You tortured them,” Charley reminded her. “You recorded their dying screams.”
Jill began shaking her head back and forth in denial. “No…”
“Little children crying for their mommies…”
Jill brought her hands to her ears, as if to block out the sounds of those cries. “Please stop. Don’t do this.”
“Is that what they said? Did they beg you to stop?”
“No, please don’t.”
“Okay,” Alex interrupted. “That’s enough, Charley.”
“Were there videotapes?”
“What?” Jill asked, her face awash in tears.
“There were rumors of videotapes.”
“Strictly rumors,” Alex said. “The police searched for months and didn’t find anything.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“They exist,” Jill confirmed after a pause.
The room fell silent.
Charley found herself holding her breath. There really are videotapes? she wanted to shout. Instead she whispered, “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must remember where you put them.”
“I never put them anywhere. I never had them.”
“But someone does?” Charley looked over at Alex, who stared back at her, looking every bit as stunned as she was.
“First time I’m hearing about this,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead with his hand.
“You see, I told you she was the right person for the job,” Jill said, a note of triumph pushing through her tears.
“You understand that if I ever so much as think you’re being less than honest with me, if I ever catch you in the tiniest white lie, if I suspect you’re playing games, all bets are off,” Charley informed her, as she had informed Alex Prescott earlier.
“I understand.”
“If I secure a book contract, you get absolutely no remuneration whatsoever. Not one dime.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“If you don’t like what I write, it’s too damn bad.”
“I know that won’t happen.”
“If it does…”
“Then it’s too damn bad,” Jill agreed.
“You’ll sign a statement to that effect?”
“Absolutely.” Jill looked to her lawyer. “Alex?”
“I’ll draw up the papers first thing Monday morning,” he concurred.
“Does this mean we have a deal?” Jill asked hopefully.
Charley swallowed the lump in her throat. What the hell was she getting herself into? “We have a deal.”
CHAPTER 10
You were right,” Charley said, settling into the front seat of Alex’s old convertible. Sometime during the hour they’d spent inside the prison walls, the clouds had dispersed, and the sky had turned a glorious shade of blue. “It didn’t rain.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Alex acknowledged with a smile.
Charley wondered if he was one of those men who were always right or just one of those who always thought they were. She reached inside her purse for her sunglasses as he snapped his seat belt into place and started the car. “You really didn’t know about the videotapes?” she asked.
“I knew about the rumors.” He backed the car out of its narrow space and turned toward the gatehouse.
“She never told you they actually existed?”
“Obviously there are a number of things about my client I don’t know.”
“Still think she’s innocent?” Charley asked.
“I never said she was innocent. I said she was complicated.”
“Complicated or just crafty?”
Alex gave Charley’s question a moment’s thought. “I guess you’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.”
“Any idea where the tapes are?”
“None whatsoever.”
“You’re sure she didn’t give them to you for safekeeping?”
“Lawyers aren’t allowed to hide evidence, Charley,” he said, a hint of annoyance bracketing his words, as a guard waved them through the gate.
“What if you didn’t know what was on the tapes?”
“Then I’d be an idiot,” he said plainly, “which, trust me, I’m not.”
“So you believe her when she says there was another person involved,” Charley stated, although it was, in fact, a question.
“I’ve always believed that. Yes.”
“Do you know who that person is?”
“No. She won’t tell me.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“A couple.”
“Care to share?”
“Well, her brother’s a rather nasty piece of work.”
“I thought he had an alibi.”
“He claimed to be holed up with his girlfriend during the time Tammy Barnet was missing—the girlfriend backs him up, of course—and his father vouched for his whereabouts when the Starkey kids were killed.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
“The father’s even worse than the brother. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that both of them were somehow involved.”
“What about Jill’s boyfriend?”
“Gary? Not likely. He was out of town when Tammy was killed, and he claims he was no longer romantically involved with Jill at the time of the Starkey murders.”
“You feel like stopping somewhere for a cup of coffee?” Charley wasn’t sure where that suggestion had come from. Her adrenaline was still pumping from her meeting with Jill, so the last thing her system needed was caffeine. Besides that, she was eager to get back to Palm Beach before Glen returned with James. Still, she felt the need for a time-out, a few extra minutes to absorb all that had happened. Everything was moving so quickly. She just wanted a brief respite to slow it all down.
“Can’t,” Alex said. “I really have to get back.” He offered no further explanation.
“Family obligations?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“What manner?”
He smiled. “That case I was telling you about earlier. The one pitting brother against sister, sister against aunt….”
“…everybody against mother,” Charley concluded. “Your wife doesn’t mind you working so hard on a Saturday?” God, could she be any more obvious? she wondered, rolling her eyes behind her dark glasses. Why didn’t she just ask him if he was married? Did she even care?
“I’m not married,” he said.
“Divorced?”
“Nope.”
“Not interested?”
“Is this a proposal?” He glanced over at her for the first time since they’d returned to the car.
Charley laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Of course you did. You’re a reporter, aren’t you?”
“Just trying to make conversation.”
“Just trying to get information, you mean,” he corrected.
“Is it classified?”
His turn to laugh. “Hardly.” But he offered nothing further.
They drove in silence until they reached the entrance to the turnpike.
“So, what did you think of her?” he asked, taking a ticket from the tollbooth attendant and tucking it inside his shirt pocket.
“She’s less imposing than I thought she’d be.”
“Yeah, she’s just a little bit of a
thing.”
“Still quite formidable.”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know. There’s just something about her, something that lets you know she’s the one calling the shots.”
Alex looked surprised. “Interesting observation.”
“You don’t agree?”
“I’ll have to think about it.” He paused. “So, when do you want to see her again?”
Charley tried envisioning the weeks ahead, but the car was picking up speed, and the wind in her face made it hard to concentrate. She had to raise her voice in order to be heard. “Well, give me some time to read through the transcripts and your files, do a little research on my own, maybe contact a few publishers, write up a proposal….”
“Next Saturday work for you?”
She pushed her hair behind her ears, held it there with both hands. “Uh…weekends aren’t normally the best time for me. My kids…”
“That’s right. I forgot you have children.”
“You obviously don’t,” Charley said, although again, it was really a question.
“No. Never really saw myself with kids.”
“You don’t like them?”
“On the contrary. I think they’re great.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. You never know.”
“You never do,” she agreed.
They drove for several seconds in silence.
“So when would be a good time for you to see Jill again?” he asked.
Charley turned the pages of her appointment calendar over in her mind. “How’s a week from Wednesday?”
“I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Maybe we could set up a block of time every week, plus the occasional Saturday.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Hopefully for longer than an hour. Maybe two, or even three?”
“Three is highly doubtful, but again, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Does Jill have access to a phone?”
“She has limited phone privileges.”
“Well, she can call my office whenever she wants. Or my cell. And of course, she can always write letters. Maybe she could start with her childhood. Tell her not to leave anything out. I’ll decide what’s relevant and what isn’t.”
“I’ll tell her.”
“Okay.” Charley sank back in her seat, suddenly exhausted. “Okay.”
“You all right?”
“Just a little tired.”
“Any plans for tonight?”
“No, nothing.” Was he asking her out? If so, how should she respond? It probably wasn’t a good idea to mix business with pleasure, she decided in that instant. Now she’d have to backtrack, make up some excuse he was too smart not to see through.
“Well, that’s good,” he said. “You can take a hot bath, order in Chinese, and just veg out in front of the TV.”
So much for that, Charley thought, feeling a stab of disappointment. What was the matter with her? Why wasn’t she feeling anything but relief? It wasn’t as if she found the man particularly scintillating or attractive. Not that he wasn’t either of those things. He just wasn’t her type. He was too neat looking, too preppy. She’d always liked her men on the slightly scruffy side. Besides, hadn’t she just decided it would be a bad idea to mix business and pleasure? What would happen if after a few dates, she tired of him? That was her pattern, after all. How would dumping him affect her working relationship with Jill? Would Alex be able to convince his client to drop Charley from the project altogether?
She sighed. The only reason she was even vaguely interested in Alex Prescott, she recognized, was because he hadn’t shown the vaguest interest in her. And we always want what we can’t have, she thought, shutting her eyes, her hair whipping at her closed lids.
In the next instant, she was sitting on the floor of her parents’ bedroom, watching her mother throw a bunch of loosely folded blouses into a suitcase. “What are you doing, Mommy?”
“Mommy has to go away for a little while, darling.”
“Where?”
“To a place called Australia.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s far away.”
“Can I go with you?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m afraid you can’t.”
“Is that why you’re crying?”
“Yes, sweetheart. That’s why I’m crying. Because I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Then why can’t I go with you?”
“Because I need you to stay home and look after your brother and sisters for me.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I know, sweetheart. But I have to.”
“Is it important?”
“Yes, it is.”
“More important than me?”
“Nothing’s more important than you are,” her mother said, crying even harder.
“Then why are you going?”
“Because I have no choice.”
“Why?”
“Maybe one day I’ll be able to explain it to you.”
“Explain it to me now.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s very complicated.”
“What’s ‘complicated’?”
“For goodness sakes Charlotte. For once, can you not ask so many questions?”
“Charley,” a voice said, sliding into her reverie, like an intruder at an open window.
Charley bolted up, her seat belt stiffening instantly, locking her in place.
Alex was staring at her. “You were having a nightmare,” he explained gently.
It took Charley several seconds to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. They were still on the turnpike, the high volume of cars having slowed traffic down to a crawl. “What time is it? How long was I asleep?”
He checked his watch. “It’s after four. You were out maybe forty minutes.”
“I can’t believe I did that. I never fall asleep in the afternoon.”
“Must be all the fresh air blowing in your face.”
“Did you get any work done while I was unconscious?” She noted the headphones wrapped around his neck.
“I tried. Couldn’t concentrate.”
“Sorry for not being better company.”
“Do you have a lot of nightmares?” he asked.
“Not too many anymore.”
“But you used to?”
“When I was a kid.”
“What was this one about?”
“I don’t remember,” Charley lied, thinking it was easier that way.
“I never remember my dreams either,” Alex said. “Bits and pieces maybe. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, thinking some guy’s been chasing me with a knife…”
“I think I know that guy,” Charley said.
“Big man in a black coat, face kind of fuzzy and indistinct?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yeah, well, you can have him.”
“Thanks.”
Alex smiled. “So, tell me about your kids.”
“What can I say? They’re perfect.”
He laughed. “Of course. I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. What are their names?”
“Franny and James. He’s five. She’s eight.”
“Franny and James,” he repeated. “Nice names.”
“My sisters don’t agree. They were expecting Franny and Zooey.”
“Excuse me?”
“Franny and Zooey,” she repeated, louder this time. “It’s a book by J. D. Salinger. ‘An inferior book by an inferior writer,’ my father would say.”
Alex looked appropriately confused.
“It’s sort of a tradition in our family to give our children literary names. My sisters and I were named after the Brontë sisters,” she confided, wondering why she was confiding anything in him at all, and deciding against regaling him with
the additional anecdote regarding Charlotte’s Web. “Both Anne and Emily continued in the literary mode. Anne named her kids Darcy and Tess.”
“From Pride and Prejudice and Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” Alex stated.
“I’m impressed,” Charley said, and she was. Most of the lawyers she knew read only law journals and the occasional spy novel.
“And Emily?”
“Catherine, of course!”
“Of course. What else from the namesake of the author of Wuthering Heights?”
“You’re very quick,” Charley observed.
“Some might say glib.”
“That’s all right. I like glib.”
Alex smiled, returned his full attention to the highway. “Almost there,” he said, nodding toward the upcoming exit at Okeechobee.
Ten minutes later, he pulled the car to a stop in front of her house. “Thanks. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” She unsnapped her seat belt, pushed open the car door.
“It was my pleasure.”
“Did you want to come in for a drink?” she asked, then bit down on her lower lip. What was the matter with her? Did she really want to prolong the afternoon? Hadn’t they pretty much exhausted their supply of small talk?
“I really can’t,” he said. “But I’ll call you after I’ve made some arrangements. Probably toward the end of the week.”
“Sounds good.” Charley got out of the car.
“Call me if you have any questions.”
“I will. Thanks again.” She waved as Alex drove off down the street, but he wasn’t looking. Charley’s fingers floated aimlessly in the air for several seconds before she realized someone was watching her. “Lynn, hi,” she called toward her neighbor, who was glaring at her from behind the large American flag that occupied much of her front lawn.
But Lynn refused to acknowledge her, pivoting around on her exaggerated heels and hurrying up the path to her house. Seconds later, the sound of her front door slamming reverberated down the street.
Charley had just enough time to shower and change into her favorite jeans before Glen brought James home from their afternoon at Lion Country Safari.
“We had the best time,” James shouted, tearing through the house toward the bathroom.
“Well, great,” Charley called after him. “How about you?” she asked Glen, who was hovering at the front door, looking as rudely appealing as ever. She gave silent thanks that her instincts about him had proved correct.