David put his legal pad of notes into an accordion file with a half dozen labeled folders. “If ye’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“Wait a minute,” Charlotte said. “You said you had already made your decision. How could you possibly have known about Jack?”
“After ye called last night,” Elliott said, “I asked David to research the end of the war, the assassination, and the trial to see if yer name or Jack’s showed up. We found what ye found and assumed it was yer Jack.”
“I’ve been talking with experts and collecting copies of the transcript, witness, and exhibit lists, and the statutes Jack allegedly violated. With this information, his attorney will have an advantage,” David said.
“Braham has to be his attorney. You can’t give those notes to just anyone,” Charlotte said.
“If Braham isn’t representing him, then I’ll feed his attorney with insider information. He won’t turn it down, nor will he question how I got it,” David said, and then paused. “For example, the defendants weren’t asked until the first day of trial if they wanted representation. At that point defense counsel had no time for pretrial preparations or consultations with clients. The notes I have will bring Jack’s attorney up to speed immediately. He can, as they say, hit the ground running.”
“And the prosecutors will be looking for a staff leak,” Elliott said. “Wish I could see it.”
“The proverbial fly on the wall,” Charlotte said. “How long will it take you to collect all the research and be ready to leave?”
“There’s more to do than research,” Elliott said. “If I send people into a war zone, they go prepared—weapons, funds, identification. It will take a couple of days. Ye also need to be up to speed, Charlotte, on the proceedings and layout of the courtroom. I’ve placed a call to Bob Redford. He directed the movie Conspirator a few years ago. I want his insights about the trial. I know he did extensive research at the time.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Meredith huffed. “I tried for years to get him to come to an event at the winery, and he always turned me down. Will he return your call?”
“MacKlenna Farm has been a corporate sponsor of the Sundance Institute for more than twenty years. He’ll call.”
A trace of humor touched Meredith’s face, and she wrapped her fingers around her husband’s arm and tugged teasingly on the sleeve of his polo shirt. “You have such an irresistible way about you.”
Elliott kissed her. “Aye, my wee lassie, but ye’re the only one who thinks so.”
“Tell Mr. Redford Jack will make a nice donation. And just so you know, we’re picking up the tab for all expenses,” Charlotte said.
Elliott waved away her comment as if it had no importance. He was no longer grinning, but there was a distinct glint in his eye. “When everyone has safely returned, then we can discuss money.”
76
MacKlenna Farm, Lexington, Kentucky, Present Day
Charlotte spent the next three days in David’s office participating in videoconferences with experts. She and David had studied Redford’s movie several times and talked to the experts he had used in creating the film. Their wealth of information staggered Charlotte, who kept hearing ker-ching every time David set up another videoconference.
Her pockets were not as deep as the Frasers’, and by her best calculations, she had already spent her savings and would have to dig into her retirement unless she sold the Hilton Head house to a developer. Money didn’t matter, though. Jack’s freedom did. Both Frasers had told her not to worry about the money, but she did.
Elliott’s research assistants discovered a Union officer from Lexington, Kentucky whose identity Charlotte could borrow. The man died at home in the summer of 1865 from wounds he received in the Siege of Petersburg.
What made him of interest to Elliott was Captain Charles Patrick Duffy had been a lawyer. Elliott had vetted the captain’s historical record and found no connection to any member of the military commission or defense attorneys. If Charlotte wanted to attend the trial, being a member of the defense team guaranteed her admission to the courtroom and contact with Jack. Impersonating a Union captain wouldn’t be difficult, but impersonating a lawyer, even with a script to follow, might be more of a challenge.
“I promise ye, Charley, ye won’t have to say a word.” His nickname for her rolled smoothly off his tongue. “Sit there and look menacing,” he said, glaring with a tight-lipped, pinched expression.
She surprised herself by laughing out loud, but then stopped suddenly and pressed the tips of her fingers against her mouth to keep another laugh from bursting out. Jack was gone, and she had no right to be happy.
David moved her hand away from her lips and held it in his strong palm, as if it were something precious and fragile. The sudden warmth of the touch rippled the fine hairs of her forearms. Her fingers closed involuntarily on his, and his hand wrapped large and warm around hers. “It’s okay to laugh,” he said with gentleness in his face. “It doesn’t mean ye don’t love yer brother or worry over him.”
David’s intense, smoldering dark brown eyes rarely changed, but when he smiled, they took on the coziness of a cup of cocoa, and she melted in the sweet, hot chocolate. There was no tension between them, only general ease in the way he probed and she prodded. They were partners, and if Braham didn’t already have her heart, she could easily give it to this man.
The intercom buzzed, and David answered the phone on his desk. “Aye, I’ll meet ye there.” He hung up and said to her, “Elliott needs me in the stallion barn. I’ll be right back.” He pocketed his cell phone and left the room, muscles rippling beneath the fabric of shirt and trousers.
She got to her feet and stretched. From the window behind David’s desk, she observed him crossing the yard toward the closest red-roofed barn, admiring the way his body moved with such athletic ease and power.
David was a deadly force to be reckoned with. According to the historical record, the conspirators were incarcerated in the Old Arsenal Penitentiary. If anyone could rescue Jack from there, David could. She said a silent prayer, grateful he was one of the good guys, and on her side.
A description of one of the characters in Jack’s last book described David right down to the aviators he tucked into the open collar of his shirt: He possessed a quickness of mind and body, and protectiveness born of nature and honed by training. She trusted him implicitly and wanted the trust reciprocated, but if she expected him to believe in her, she had to be completely honest with him. And she was holding back, not ready to share the possibility she might be pregnant.
When she had told her story to Elliott, Meredith, and David, and reached the part about her visit to Braham’s house in Georgetown for their getaway, David had quietly left the room. She suspected he had watched it later when he reviewed the video, but by leaving he had preserved her privacy—protectiveness born of nature and honed by training.
While she was standing at the window, a reflection of his bookcase in the glass caught her attention. She wandered over to the bookshelf and pulled out a hardback book titled Knights in Black: The Adventures of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. The red and green tartan cover was one of three with similar book jackets. Jack had recently mentioned reading and enjoying these books by David McBain. She flipped the book over to see the author’s picture and gasped.
“I’ll be damned.” The breadth of David’s experience and knowledge had surprised her at first. Then by the second day she found herself in awe, hanging on his every word. By the third day, she had given up being surprised, but now she was back to being in awe again—or maybe thunderstruck. Was there anything the man couldn’t do?
She glanced up to find him standing in the doorway with his hands gripping the top edge of the doorjamb as he leaned into the room. The corner of his mouth curved up, and she had the grace to blush slightly at being caught snooping in his office. “Jack read your books recently and really enjoyed them.”
“After yer trip to Afg
hanistan, ye’re probably not interested in reading them. I wouldn’t blame ye.”
She shook her head, eyes fixed on him. “I’ll definitely read them now. I know the author.” She returned the book, placing the spine flush with the edge of the shelf to match the others.
“Come on, then.” He motioned with his chin, his smile widening. “Let’s get out of here for a while. We need a break.”
Her breath hitched at the unexpected invitation, and then she shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Five minutes later, they were speeding down Old Frankfort Pike in David’s Z4 with the top down, the wind blowing in her hair. The ends of David’s closely cropped hairstyle barely fluttered above his aviator sunglasses.
“Can you fly a plane?” she asked.
“If I have to.” The dark lenses hid his eyes, but the way his mouth curled, she knew they were twinkling. He was teasing her—protectiveness born of nature and honed by training. Maybe it’s what the meeting with Elliott was all about. He and Elliott needed to know if she could emotionally handle another trip back. Honestly, she didn’t know for sure, but she thought she could. They probably wanted more reassurance, though.
“I thought we’d stop at Wallace Station and have a sandwich and beer out on the back deck,” David said.
“Sounds great, but make mine water.”
He shook his head. “Part of this outing is drinking beer. Just one. It won’t hurt.” He turned into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Looks like we missed the lunch crowd.” He parked, and they entered the building. After ordering, they made their way out the back door to a picnic table on the deck. They sat in silence for a few minutes, soaking up the sun, until David went back inside to pick up their order. He returned with beers, sandwiches, and a bottle of water.
Charlotte twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a long drink.
“Now, the beer,” David said.
“I can’t.” She spoke softly, her shoulders trembling. “I may be pregnant.”
David set down his bottle of Kentucky Ale and peered over his aviators. “Ye’re a doctor and don’t know for sure?”
“I haven’t taken a pregnancy test. I’m several days late, but I’ve also been through hell and back the last six weeks.”
“Six weeks? How about six months.” He tipped his bottle and finished off the ale. “Ye still have a shell-shocked look about ye.”
“Well, thanks.”
“We’ll stop at the drug store on the way back to the farm. Ye should know what’s going on in yer body. Ye’re a brave—”
She shook her head several times, huffing softly. “No, I’m not brave. I even have to talk myself into running a stoplight late at night, even when there’s no traffic on the road. And then only when I’m going in to take care of a medical emergency. I lead a safe life, and I don’t take risks. The damn brooch has brought nothing but trouble, and after I get Jack back, I don’t ever want to see either one of those things again. It may have been a cakewalk for Kit, but the sapphire has only brought me hell and heartache.”
There was a small barbed edge to his voice when he said, “Kit spent six months crossing the Oregon Trail in a covered wagon with bad food and burned coffee. She fought a cholera epidemic, killed three men, saw her husband get shot, and barely escaped being raped, and those are the highlights. I wouldn’t say she had an easy time of it.”
“I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me to assume it.” Charlotte shoved a hand through her hair and snagged her fingers in tangled, windblown curls. “Damn. Should have worn a hat.”
David snatched off the MacKlenna ball cap he had plopped on his head when he parked the Z4, hooked it onto her head, and tugged on the bill to set the hat in place. “Now ye’ve got one. Let’s go.”
“You know, if I’m pregnant, the baby will be Kit’s cousin.”
“Not sure how ye’d explain it to a wee laddie.”
“Me either, but when he or she grows up, I’ll try.”
“Either do it, or don’t do it, Charley. There is no trying—ever.”
David tossed their trash and recyclables into the proper containers, moving about the deck naturally. Only the tension in his shoulders suggested he was under any heightened level of emotion. He paused at the edge of the deck, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in cool air. It was early in the afternoon, and the rays of sun were beginning to shift, slanting down through the trees in the fencerow on the west side of the property. The bright light glowed on his brown hair, highlighting pinpoints of yellow, as if the wind had sprinkled his head with gold dust.
Charlotte joined him next to the stairs leading to the parking lot, tipping her head back to let the rays of sun bathe her cheeks with warmth. She wasn’t in a hurry to leave the restaurant and drive to their next stop—a drug store. Being pregnant now wasn’t convenient, but she had wanted Braham to be the father of her child. At the moment, though, she wasn’t so sure.
“I asked one of the researchers today if she had seen Braham’s name mentioned anywhere in the trial transcript. She said no.” Charlotte tugged on the bill of the ball cap, trying to put into words the thoughts pressing on her heart. “What could have happened to him? Why didn’t…” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat, trying to regain composure. “Why didn’t he help Jack?”
“My Internet searches haven’t turned up any information either,” David said in a tone indicating mild frustration. “After everything ye’ve said about him, I’m surprised. And I’m rarely surprised about anything.”
“I know he was leaving town the day we left Washington, but surely he would have returned.” She gripped the railing, turning her knuckles white as she desperately tried to hold the tears at bay, so afraid once they started she wouldn’t be able to stop. “I thought he cared about Jack. I thought he cared about me. But I must have been wrong.”
“Whatever he did after the war, Braham didn’t distinguish himself in any way.”
“He had a law practice to return to, and his winery. I wonder if he never made it back to California.”
“I’ve got people looking. They may turn up something, or it’s also possible maybe…he didn’t survive his last assignment.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense, but the war was over. So if he died, it must have been from an accident or disease. Edward, his butler, will know where he is and what happened to him. If he’s alive and well, I’m not sure how I’ll react to seeing him.”
“If ye’re pregnant, he’s the father, and he deserves to know about the baby.”
“Then I hope I’m not pregnant. I don’t want a child by a man who would abandon my brother.”
“Don’t give up on Braham. He might not have represented Jack, but he might have helped in other ways. We’ll find out when we get there.”
Yes, they would find out, and if she was pregnant, she didn’t intend to tell him. Nor would she allow the pregnancy to overshadow Jack’s situation. She went down the stairs, clutching her brow. She must have moaned, for David reached her quickly and cupped her elbow, supporting her weight.
“What is it, lass?”
“Besides Braham’s betrayal?” The tears flowed freely now. “Everything.” She wiped her face with the heel of her hand. David pulled her into his arms and held her, and she cried until she soaked his shirt.
When the tears stopped, she said, “I’m sorry. I thought I had cried them all out.”
He reached behind him, grabbed a handful of napkins off the table next to the railing, and gave them to her. “Blow yer nose. Ye’ve been close to tears all morning. It was time to let them out.”
She did as he asked, then took several hiccupping breaths. She breathed easier now the tension in her chest had eased. “How’d you get to be so smart?”
He laughed. “Everything I know I not only learned in kindergarten, but I also learned from Elliott, especially about women.”
She threw the used napkins in the trash can, chuckling. “From what I heard about Elliott prior t
o meeting Meredith, I’m not sure it’s knowledge to be proud of.”
“Aye, but ye have to understand. Before he fell in love with the right woman, he fell in love with the wrong one. The first lassie caused him a wee bit of trouble. It took Meredith a while to straighten him out.”
“He reminds me of Yoda in Star Wars, building his knowledge, experience, and wisdom into others. I can’t imagine undertaking this mission without his support and”—she paused, glancing up at David—“his Jedi knight. I’d never be able to kick evil’s butt without you.”
“Where would ye like to start with yer ass-kicking?” he asked, smiling into her eyes.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, letting David divert her focus. “A certain kangaroo court with the power to execute. We’ll start there, then I’m going after Johnson and Stanton in the press. The Tribune, Times, Post, News and the World are five of the newspapers whose editors disagreed with Johnson and Stanton about how the trial should be conducted. I firmly believe those two men bullied Attorney General Speed into writing an opinion supporting their position.”
She stopped and slammed her fists to her hips. “An opinion is only an opinion, for God’s sake. It doesn’t have the force and effect of the law. A criminal court should have tried the conspirators, not a military court. Knowing Jack, he’s suffering more from the injustice than the torture.”
David rubbed his knuckle across his upper lip as a broad grin spread across his face.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“Nay. I’d never laugh at a lassie strapping on a gun belt, ready for battle.” The lines of his face curved in such an irresistible smile that her own laughter bubbled up in response.
“You’re damn right I am, but I have to warn you, I’m a lousy shot.”
They meandered toward the car, taking their time, listening to the trees whisper and the chatting and courting of the birds. She had become accustomed to the sounds of nature, to hearing the trills and odd yowls instead of the roar of engines and blasting music.
The Sapphire Brooch Page 51