"Phillip, I tried to tell him the truth, but he turned it into something he could understand."
He shook his head, halting her. "I don’t want to hear your lame excuses. How many times do I have to make that clear? Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get ready to take my son to Disneyland."
He tossed down his coffee and set the mug aside with a thud so hard that Rowan was afraid it would break. She held back the pain and frustration with an iron-will she didn’t know she possessed.
The mask stayed in place until she waved them good-bye an hour later. Once Phillip’s car was well down the road, she let her shoulders sag. She felt an arm slip around her and looked into Zach’s understanding eyes.
"He’ll have to cool down and listen some time." Zach gave her a comforting squeeze. "But you know, if it will help, I’m here to listen."
Rowan sat down and rested her chin in her hands. The words came, slowly at first, then like a flood as the dam of emotions burst. Her long kept secret was finally out in the open.
She looked up. Both Zach and Mike stared at her in open-mouthed surprise. "And that’s why I have to get him to listen and try to make him understand why I never told him about Ian."
"Good God, Rowan, Phillip is going to go ballistic when he hears this," Zach said in a rush of breath. "He has to know. You have to talk to him."
She nodded and started to clear the table, anything to keep her mind focused. "You saw. He won’t give me the time of day. He’s so angry and upset, and I really can’t blame him." She picked up the empty coffee mugs. "He needs to hear the whole story, start to finish. Why I left him the way I did."
Mike jumped up to help. "You can snag him tomorrow night when he gets back with Ian. We’ll make sure he gives you his full attention."
A simple plan, or so it seemed. But so were all the others before they blew up in her face. She was beginning to wonder what good it did to plan when life threw obstacles in your path at a whim.
Rowan occupied her time with household chores, enlisting her two bodyguards for tasks too heavy to accomplish on her own. It helped to exhaust her body and mind while she counted down the hours until Phillip’s return.
But when that moment came, Phillip derailed their plan before it could be put into effect. By the time Rowan realized that he had no intention of remaining, Ian was inside the house and Phillip already driving back down the road to the base. She stared at the dust trail in dismay.
"You want me to go after him?" Mike asked.
Rowan shook her head. "No. He can’t avoid me forever." She set her jaw. I’ll have to make him listen.
* * *
Rowan paced a groove in the hallway outside the defense offices. Phillip obviously wasn’t coming. He was going to let her flounder. Why else wouldn’t he have shown up?
It was noon already—her arraignment in one hour. He couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate revenge. She would be in prison for the rest of her life. Ian would be his, and she could just about guarantee that Phillip would never let her see her son again.
Just inside Phillip’s office, Zach glanced at his watch for what must have been the hundredth time. Rowan could almost count the minutes each time he did. It was a mystery to him as well. She could see that in the furrows along his brow, even if he didn’t say so.
"I hate to say this, but with everything else that’s happened, do you suppose maybe someone made sure Phillip didn’t get here?"
Rowan froze when she heard him ask that of Mike and Jess. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. What if something had happened to Phillip? Never mind her circumstances, Ian would be devastated.
"We don’t have much of a choice," Mike said. "I’m the one most familiar with the case. I’ll have to go in as her counsel."
Before the last word could die away, the outside door swung open and Phillip strode in, dressed crisply in his green court uniform, briefcase clutched in his hand.
"Sorry I’m late. I had some business to attend to." He motioned Rowan into his office and shut the door behind them.
Rowan fidgeted. The room was small enough, but with five people crammed in there, she found it a little unnerving.
"Let’s get started. We have a lot to cover before—"
A sharp rap on the door interrupted him. With an impatient twist of his wrist, Phillip yanked it open.
Laura Cushing started, but held her ground. "I need a word with you."
"You can have as many words as you’d like, counselor." Phillip leaned out of the way to let her in.
After a moment or two of hesitation, she crossed the threshold and shoved the door shut behind her. "Very well, Captain. I would have liked to discuss this with you privately, but since you are again being uncooperative…I thought it only fair to warn you that I intend to demand that you be released from this case. This will give you the opportunity to withdraw gracefully as counsel so someone else can step in."
A ghost of a smile flitted across Phillip’s face, almost too quickly for the others to catch.
"And who is going to step in for you?"
Puzzlement covered her face.
"If you demand I be released, I intend to do the same with you. Surely you can see the folly of one old girlfriend prosecuting another. Or do you really want the court to know you and I had an affair?"
The words sliced into Rowan’s heart. It was foolish to think that either of them had pined for the other over the last nine years. She certainly hadn’t been celibate. But to hear the words…to see the other woman. It cut to the quick and she wondered if Phillip had made his bald statement with that purpose in mind.
Laura spared Rowan an embarrassed glance then squared her shoulders. "All right, Captain Stuart. Have it your way. I can be objective and professional, if you’re sure you can be."
Phillip swung open the door. "I can take care of my own business, and thank you so much for caring, but your concerns are not really necessary any more."
Laura flushed, obviously humiliated and uncomfortable. Without another word, she left the office. Rowan felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. Until now, she never realized Phillip could be ruthlessly cruel—a trait inherited from his father.
His voice enclosed them once more. "All right, Rowan. This is what we’ve got to work with. The choice is yours. I meant to discuss this with you on Friday, but…well, I’m sure we all know what happened on Friday."
He laid out the evidence to date in simple terms. She could walk away scot-free today, or go in for the long haul and, with luck, bring down the murderer. It seemed that the choice was hers, but she couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t make a decision.
"So, what’s it going to be? Which way do you want me to go?" Phillip asked.
Rowan clenched and unclenched her hands. She wanted this done with, her life and reputation restored. Yet here was the opportunity to finish what she had started, this time with a team to help her. And Phillip.
"What about the danger to Ian and my mother?"
"Not to mention you," Zach added.
Jess popped a toothpick between his teeth. Rowan wasn’t sure if that meant the whole plan made him nervous or that it earned his seal of approval.
"There’s a risk," he said in his gravelly drawl. "You know that. We’re doing everything we can to protect all of you. But if this guy thinks you’re going to take the fall for his crime, maybe he’ll start to get careless and tip his hand. Either way, it’ll also give us more time to investigate. In the meantime, we’re gathering more and more forensic evidence to ensure you’re cleared of all charges."
Rowan glanced around the room, hoping someone would tell her what to do. No one met her gaze. The decision was solely hers. She drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves.
"I want to catch this guy."
Phillip snapped to his feet. "Excellent. Then let’s set a few snares and see what we come up with."
Sally Kemp was the first person Rowan saw when they walked into the courtroom. She sat in the far row of chairs, back agai
nst the wall, hate blazing from her pale eyes. Near the front of the room, at the prosecutor’s table, Laura Cushing shuffled papers and ignored them. At the court reporter desk in front of the judge’s bench, Ellen gave Rowan a nod that said "hang-in-there." Then the proceedings began.
This was the first step toward trial. Arraignment…the Article 32 hearing. If the evidence presented upheld the charges, the case would go to trial. By holding back the evidence of Rowan’s innocence, Phillip was guaranteeing that the case would be sent to trial.
The Hearing Officer looked them over.
"Is there anyone here who would like to dismiss themselves?" he asked.
Phillip glanced up. "No need. We’re all professionals here."
"Let’s get started then."
Even knowing what she and Phillip had planned didn’t make it any easier for Rowan to sit there and listen to it. For each piece of evidence the prosecutor presented, he gave no argument.
Malcolm Collins took the stand and threw out his pathetic evaluation of the crime scene. The smoking gun issue was brought up. On the surface it all looked bad for her. She prayed that Phillip, Jess, and Mike hadn’t erred in the evidence they had tucked away.
Phillip’s one and only true act of defense was to request that the charge of adultery be dropped on the grounds of hearsay. Defense presented no opposition.
By the time the hearing was over, two hours passed. Rowan had a headache that wouldn’t quit, her stomach churned, and her nerves were shot. Crowded once more into Phillip’s office with the men, Rowan listened to the debrief and the men’s plans, but could offer no insight of her own.
"I guess that takes care of that business for now. On to other important matters." Phillip sat down at his desk, hauled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and tossed them to Zach.
"I need you to serve these on Rowan."
Zach glanced at the documents. "Phillip, you can’t—"
"Do it."
Rowan’s heart fluttered like a frightened bird caught by a tomcat. Phillip’s cool, professional demeanor was gone, replaced again by the livid anger. It showed in the cold set of his face and the stiff tilt to his head.
Reluctantly, Zach handed her the papers. Rowan took them with shaking fingers. She was afraid to look…afraid not to.
"The custody hearing’s tomorrow morning at eight-thirty. Make sure you’re there." Phillip shoved to his feet and stalked from the room.
Through a haze of fear, Rowan looked at the forms. Phillip was suing for custody of Ian. Clamping her hand to her mouth, she dashed for the ladies room.
Chapter 11
* * *
"I’m surprised you aren’t out having a victory cigar. You remember, your usual celebration after serving someone a crushing blow?"
Phillip didn’t bother to turn around when Zach stalked up behind him. He stared at the activity in the parking lot and the constant flow of vehicles in and out. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I mean. That was a rotten thing to do to Rowan. How could you possibly think of taking Ian away from her?" His voice held the unmistakable sound of reprimand.
"I didn’t. Better check your facts before you go jumping to conclusions next time, counselor. It’s joint custody with a healthy child support payment each month to help her out."
"Why—"
Phillip held up his hand then motioned with a tilt of his head. "Check it out. That gray pickup in the parking lot."
"So?"
"I think it’s the same one that passed us the other night when we were parked down the road from Rowan’s house. It was also in the area last night when Ian and I got back. I dropped him off as quickly as I could, but it was gone by the time I got to the main road to take a better look."
Zach edged closer. "You’re waiting to see who it belongs to?"
"Yes, I thought I’d—"
A woman’s cry from within the building cut him off.
"Someone help! Kemp’s wife is trying to kill Rowan!"
Phillip raced inside with Zach mere footsteps behind.
"Bathroom," the woman shouted, pointing.
They burst into the room. The door slammed against the wall, shattering plasterboard. Sally Kemp didn’t budge. One mad-eyed glare at them was all it took for her to tighten the purse strap she had around Rowan’s pale throat.
Rowan clawed at Sally’s fingers, but the bloody gouges didn’t pierce the other woman’s rage. Rowan jammed her elbow in the woman’s ribs, but Sally didn’t move. Rowan was tall and in top physical condition, but Sally’s grief and fury lent her the strength of a madwoman.
Phillip clamped his hand over Sally’s wrist and squeezed until she cried out and fell back. Rowan slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. Pushing Sally toward Zach, he drew Rowan to the loveseat in the women’s changing area while his friend dragged Sally out of the room and into the waiting hands of the military police.
"I thought cutting your tires would be enough," the woman shouted as she was placed into restraints. "I should have slit your throat when I had the chance. Even that wouldn’t be payment enough for murdering my husband." She began crying, a series of incoherent sobs that escalated into hysterical, shrieking wails.
Rowan tried to rub the ache from her throat. Staggering to her feet and shoving past Phillip, she paused, enraged, in front of Sally Kemp. "I didn’t sleep with your husband, you delusional maniac! You want to point fingers, you point them somewhere else."
"Take Mrs. Kemp out of her," Phillip ordered. "Call the psych team from the hospital. Maybe they’ll admit her right away. Tell them it’s a priority."
"Sir, I imagine they’ll take her down to the hospital in Pendleton pretty quick." The police escort hauled Sally Kemp outside. She fought him and his partner each step of the way until they finally had to hog-tie her and carry her to their vehicle.
"Maybe they’ll make her a permanent resident, too," Rowan shouted after them.
Phillip caught her elbow. "That’s enough."
She jerked free, eyes huge in her pale face. "And you! How could you do this to me? How could you even think of taking Ian?"
Phillip pulled back and drew himself to his full height. "You’d better reread the custody papers more carefully. I could never take Ian from you the way you took him from me."
Rowan thought of the papers, still lying on the loveseat where she had tossed them. Abruptly, she stepped over to pick them up and with quivering hands, flipped through them. Joint custody and child support. Six hundred dollars in child support, plus a division in child care costs, if that ever became necessary.
"Phillip, I—"
"How could you think I would hurt you or Ian in that way? He isn’t a yo-yo, Rowan. He’s a little boy who needs both of his parents. I told you that I intended to be a father. I wasn’t lying."
With each word, he edged closer until her fragrance wrapped itself around him. Phillip noted Rowan’s pallor and the darkening of yet another series of bruises around her neck. First her face, then her arm, now her neck. His Rowan was a mess. His Rowan?
Zach cleared his throat, drawing their attention to the small audience gathered in the hallway, listening with avid interest. It seemed that once again they were providing entertainment for the office. Simultaneously, they drew apart and the spectators dispersed, urged on by Zach’s persistent glares.
Phillip cleared his throat. "Zach, please take Rowan home. You can follow her in my car. I’ll get a ride and meet you there later this evening."
When Zach opened his mouth to protest, Phillip cut him off. "I’ll explain later when I catch up with you."
Rowan listened to his footsteps recede. How many more mistakes was she going to make with Phillip before she got something right?
* * *
Rowan and her mother sat out on the back porch sipping their tea and watching the setting sun streak the desert hills with purple and rose shadows. Some of her most precious childhood memories were of tea parties with her mother when she was
a little girl. As she grew, plastic cups changed to porcelain then to mugs, and life’s problems dissolved with the childhood routine. But she wasn’t a child anymore, and all the tea in the world couldn’t fix this problem.
Blowing softly across her steaming mug, Rowan tried to think about what she would do if the Marine Corps found her guilty of murder. What she would do if Phillip failed her and her family. Yes, the evidence should clear her, but what if something went wrong?
"When are you going to let go?" Her mother’s softly spoken question broke the evening’s hush, sounding unnaturally loud.
"What do you mean?"
"You’ve always been a great one for planning, even when you were a child." Her voice was fond with remembrance. "But it’s time to let someone else worry about your life for a change."
"I’m not sure what you’re saying." Rowan took a hasty gulp of too-hot tea and winced.
"What I’m saying, dear, is that you need to trust Phillip. Stop brooding over what-ifs and let the man do what he does best. That is why you requested him in the first place, isn’t it?"
Stung, Rowan retorted, "I trusted Phillip nine years ago and look where that got me."
Her mother gave her a reproachful look. "Not kind and most certainly untrue and you know it." Adding a spoonful of honey to her tea, she stirred thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, it’s partly because of Phillip that you’re where you are today."
She shook her head stiffly. "Naturally, I wouldn’t have Ian without him. But as for my career in the Corps, that’s my doing, not his."
"Dear, you know as well as I that had things progressed with Phillip, joining the Marine Corps would never have been an option for you."
After taking a long sip of tea, her mother went on. "When your father died, you were forced into a role of responsibility beyond your years."
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