What he wouldn’t give to circle her shoulders with his arm, to have her lean against him, to lounge on the couch watching a movie like a regular couple. Instead he kept to his side, she to hers, the six inches between them as wide and uncrossable as any gulf. He hit the play button on the remote.
A close-up of flesh appeared on the screen. A woman’s curvy legs and backside. She stepped out of the camera’s path, the camera adjusting to focus on a bed. Then the woman was in the frame again, climbing onto the bed, her long blond hair swinging over bare shoulders and back. She turned on the bed and faced the camera in all her naked glory.
Andrea drew in a sharp breath. “Tonnie Bartell.”
Sure enough. There she was, dressed in a blond wig.
John cringed. Was this some kind of sex tape Kirkland had cooked up with his mistress? Just what Andrea needed to see. Hadn’t she been through enough? He glanced in her direction.
She didn’t look at him, her gaze riveted to the naked woman displaying her charms on the tape.
Damn him. He should have watched the tape first. He should have seen what was on it before he turned it on in front of Andrea. He reached for the remote.
“Wait.” She held up a hand.
He looked back to the tape. On the screen, a shadow played over the bed. Tonnie massaged her bare breasts and beckoned for the shadow to join her. John braced himself for Kirkland to crawl onto the bed.
But it wasn’t Kirkland.
Andrea gasped. The man moving across the bed on hands and knees toward Tonnie, naked as the day he was born, was none other than Police Chief Gary Putnam.
Chapter Twelve
Standing near the counter in John’s kitchen, Andrea lifted a steaming coffee mug to her lips and took a sip. The aroma and heat suffused her senses. She hoped the caffeine would do its work. It had been a long night—one filled with too much worry and too little sleep.
Tonnie had bedded Gary Putnam and two state senators by the time the tape was over. But Andrea and John didn’t need to see more than the first few seconds to know the tape’s purpose. Blackmail.
Definitely a motive for murder.
John had tried to get in touch with Detective Mylinski all night to no avail. Finally he’d insisted she sleep in his bed and he on the couch. He needn’t have bothered. Even as tired as she was, she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Instead, she’d spent the night worrying about Marcella, wondering what was on the tape that was lost in the fire, and thinking about John.
At least this morning she’d been able to put her worries about Marcella to rest. Although the housekeeper was curt with her over the phone, she was all right. As all right as she could be, that is, after learning she’d lost the house she’d so lovingly cared for for the past fifteen years.
Andrea watched John move around the kitchen, cooking up some breakfast. She couldn’t so easily resolve her thoughts about him. Or her feelings.
The metallic clink that vaguely resembled Westminster chimes cut through the morning fog still lingering in her mind.
John glanced at her. “My doorbell. It’s seen better days,” he explained. “I hope to hell this is Mylinski.” He walked to the door and pulled it open.
Andrea wrapped her fingers around the coffee mug and tried not to appear as nervous as she felt. She had to stay calm. She had to focus on the positives. The videotape they recovered proved other people had reason to kill Wingate. If Detective Mylinski was as thorough as John claimed, he’d have to consider the men on the tape had reason to murder Wingate. He’d have to investigate them. And maybe that investigation would clear her name once and for all.
Hand on doorknob, John paused. A muscle worked along his jaw. His shoulders tensed under his white shirt.
A bad feeling inched up Andrea’s spine. “Who is it?”
“Putnam.” John pulled open the door.
Putnam’s square shoulders filled the doorway. Cold sunlight reflected off new snow behind him, making his blond crew cut glow like the sun’s aurora.
Sweat broke out on the back of Andrea’s neck at the sight of him.
“I heard you had some information about the Kirkland case.” His eyes moved past John and raked over Andrea. “I guess I should have known she would be here.”
Andrea’s skin crawled in response.
John shifted to stand in his way, blocking his view of Andrea. “I left that message for Mylinski.”
“Al’s busy. Guess you’ll have to settle for me.”
“Thanks for stopping by, but it wasn’t necessary.” Although John’s words were polite, his tone was firm. “Let Mylinski know I’m looking for him. Where is he anyway?”
“In Chicago following up some leads. But then, you’d know all about those leads, wouldn’t you, Cohen?”
“Would I?”
“Hank Sutcliffe? Sunny Vale Apartments? Ring a bell?”
Andrea sucked in a breath. She could only imagine what Hank Sutcliffe had told them. Even though she didn’t know the man, the way things were going in the case against her, Sutcliffe would probably tell the detective they’d been intimate for years. It was her own fault. If she hadn’t told them about Sutcliffe when they were questioning her, Detective Mylinski wouldn’t be in Chicago right now listening to his lies.
“Tell Mylinski to call me ASAP.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Wingate Estate burning down last night, does it? Interesting that the two of you were there when it happened.”
Andrea cringed. John had warned her the news of their involvement would find its way to the police. She was hoping it wouldn’t happen this fast.
“What were you doing there last night?” Putnam’s tone suggested he already had a few ideas of his own on the subject.
John shrugged. “Picking up some clothes for Andrea.”
Putnam shifted to the side and peered at Andrea around John’s shoulder. “Strange that she’s still wearing the same sweater as yesterday. It must be a favorite.”
“It is.”
“Why were you really there?”
“I’ll explain to Mylinski when he gets back.”
“You’ll explain to me. If it has something to do with the Kirkland case, I need to know.”
“I’ll wait for Mylinski. Thanks.”
Putnam’s upper lip curled with disrespect. “What makes you think anyone involved in this investigation would give a damn what you have to say about this case?”
“Back off, Putnam. I have evidence this time.”
“Evidence? Don’t tell me. You’ve discovered something that proves Andrea here is innocent of shooting her husband. No, better yet, something that proves someone else did it.”
“Something like that.”
Putnam threw back his head and let out a guffaw. “Any so-called evidence that you came up with is worthless. You aren’t exactly objective. In fact, you aren’t on law enforcement’s side at all on this case. You might as well be her goddamned defense attorney.”
“Tell Mylinski I called, will you?”
Putnam jabbed John’s chest with his index finger. “I know all about you. How you messed around with that other case. How you’re messing around with this case.” He leered at Andrea.
She shivered with disgust. It was all she could do to keep from glancing over her shoulder at the videotape resting on the living-room entertainment center. How she’d love to grab it and cram it down Putnam’s throat.
John reached for the door. “Goodbye, Putnam.”
“You’re done, Cohen. You’re as good as off this case. And if Dex Harrington has any balls, you’re out of a job, too.”
John shut the door with a thunk, wood cracking against wood. Heaving a deep breath, he turned to look at Andrea.
Andrea gripped her coffee cup until her fingers went numb. “Is what he said true? Will you be fired for helping me?”
His lips thinned into a bloodless line. “I guess we’ll find out.”
BY THE TIME John reached his office late that m
orning, he had a message waiting from Dex. A summons for an urgent meeting. Great. Apparently Putnam had done exactly what he’d threatened. No surprise there. If Putnam was the driver of the black truck, he had to be worried about what they might have seen last night at Wingate Estate. What better way to discredit anything John said than to have him thrown off the Kirkland murder case for misconduct?
Or worse?
John thought of the pallor of Andrea’s face when she’d turned to him after Putnam’s exit. Clearly she hadn’t considered the possible ramifications to John’s career as a result of helping her. He wished she wouldn’t worry about that now. Not when her life was at stake. Her freedom. Compared to that, his career woes were unimportant at best.
He pulled open his office door and stepped into the hall. He might as well get this meeting with Dex over. At least then he’d know where he stood. Once he knew that, he could figure out what he had to do to keep Andrea from going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit.
He hadn’t quite reached Dex’s office when he heard a booming bass voice echo down the hall. His heart stuttered. He’d know that voice anywhere. Over the years he’d grown to associate it with justice.
He gave a quick knock on Dex’s open door as he swung around the corner and strode inside.
Judge Gerald Banks stood in the middle of the office shaking hands with Dex.
John tried to ignore the bad taste in his mouth. He used to be reassured that justice would be carried out whenever he saw Judge Banks hobnobbing with the DA. Not anymore. Now it seemed like they were stacking the deck against the accused.
My how things had changed.
“Hello, Cohen,” the judge boomed. “I’ve read in the media that you’re working the Kirkland case.”
John nodded. The judge hadn’t merely read it in the paper, he’d seen John at the house the night Kirkland’s body was found. Of course after John’s impending meeting with Dex, he probably would no longer be on the case. “Of course if Andrea Kirkland goes to trial and draws your number, I trust you’ll be recusing yourself, judge.”
The judge raised bushy brows. “Why is that?”
“It won’t look good to have you presiding over the trial of your neighbor.”
He dismissed John’s concern with a wave of his hand. “I’ve never met Andrea Kirkland. Except for attending a fund-raising golf outing at the course on Wingate Estate, I barely knew her husband. And no, she wasn’t at the outing. So if I’m to preside over her trial, I’ll approach it like any other.”
Like any other? That could only mean one thing. He’d give every advantage to the prosecution. With that and the way the evidence was stacking against Andrea, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
“It’s nice to have you back, Dex. The voters in this county have good taste.” Grinning, the judge turned to John. “And Cohen, nice seeing you again.”
As soon as the door closed behind the judge, Dex leveled him with an ice-blue gaze. “I got a call from the police chief over in Green Valley.”
John sighed. Just as he thought. Putnam must have gotten on the horn to Dex as soon as he stepped out the door. “Lucky you. I’m sure he had a lot of colorful things to say.”
“He seems to think you’re protecting the main suspect in Wingate Kirkland’s murder.”
“I’m trying to uncover the truth.”
“That’s not how he sees it. I’m ordering an investigation into his charges, Cohen. And while the investigation is underway, I’m suspending you with pay.”
John’s gut plummeted.
Dex shook his head. “I wish I didn’t have to do it, but my hands are tied. I can’t afford anything that looks inappropriate going on in this office.”
John nodded. He wasn’t surprised. Not considering that the DA who occupied the office before Dex had been involved in selling lenient plea bargains to any criminal who could afford his price. After the governor had appointed Dex as interim DA, he had brought the office back to respectability by running a tight ship. John expected he would continue to do so now that he’d been elected to continue the job.
But an investigation wasn’t the thing that bothered him. The suspension that went along with it was the problem. An investigation could take weeks. Even if he was cleared of all wrongdoing, Andrea could be charged and half way to trial by the time he was reinstated. “Andrea Kirkland didn’t kill her husband, Dex. Putnam is focused on the wrong person.”
“And Mylinski? He’s on this case, too, isn’t he? What does he think about all this?”
“He’s in Chicago following a lead.”
“So I hear. But that’s not what I asked. Does he think you’ve crossed the line?”
What could he say? “Probably.”
Dex nodded. “Take this opportunity to get away, John. Go on a vacation while this investigation is going on. I don’t remember you taking a vacation the entire time I’ve been with this office.”
“I can’t do that, Dex.” He could never leave Andrea. Not while she needed him. Not until this was over. Hell, probably not even then.
“Kit Ashner will take over the case. It’ll be in good hands.”
John nodded. Kit was a good attorney, if a little ambitious. Ambition that could be realized if she could win a high-profile murder case.
A hanging judge. An ambitious assistant district attorney. Everywhere he turned it seemed the deck was being stacked against Andrea.
“Is there anything more, John?” Dex looked at him, an expectant lift to his brow.
There was a lot more. A hell of a lot more. But he might as well not waste his breath. If there was ever a man who stuck to a decision once it was made, it was Dex Harrington. Arguing with Dex would get him nowhere. “No. I guess not.” He turned and walked for the door.
Reaching the hall, he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. “On second thought, would you give Kit something from me?”
Dex cocked a brow. “What?”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the videotape. Walking back to Dex’s desk, he set the tape on the blotter. “Some potentially exculpatory evidence. It might help her see the case in a different light.”
AS SOON AS Andrea saw John’s face, she knew his meeting with Dex Harrington hadn’t gone well. She sprang from her chair, stepped to his side and grasped his arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing I didn’t expect.”
“He fired you?”
“Nothing quite so dramatic. A suspension. With pay. He suggested I take a vacation.”
“Oh, John. I’m so sorry.”
He covered her hand with his. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“What did Putnam mean? About the other case?”
John waved his hand in the air, as if trying to erase her memory of Putnam’s words. “It’s nothing.”
She shook her head. It wasn’t nothing. Of that she was sure. “Back in Chicago you asked me to trust you. That street goes two ways. What was he talking about, John?”
He exhaled through tight lips and studied her. Finally he nodded. “I was involved in a case a while ago. There was a witness.”
“A woman.” She’d gleaned that much from what Putnam had said.
“Yes. She had information implicating her brother in the murder of her boyfriend. The trouble was, when she got on the stand, she refused to testify.”
“How was that your fault?”
“I prepared her.”
“I’m not following you.”
“I was young. It was my second major felony. I liked her. I felt sorry for her. And as a result, I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. I didn’t grill her as hard as I should have before putting her on the stand. I didn’t get a written statement ahead of time. And because she refused to tell her story in the witness box, her brother walked.”
“And Putnam thinks that because you like me, because you feel sorry for me, you’re going to let me get away with murdering Wingate.”
“I don’t feel sorry
for you, Andrea.”
A flush crept up her neck.
He trailed his fingers up her arm, spreading the warmth through her body. “Helping you is the right thing. Dex will see that in time.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Screw him.”
Guilt settled thick in her chest. Despite his blustering words, she knew the truth. His career as an assistant district attorney could be severely damaged if not totally over. And it was her fault. “What if we give them the videotape? Then they can see others had reason to kill Wingate.”
“Others like Gary Putnam?”
She nodded.
“I left it for Kit Ashner. She’s taking over the case.”
She nodded. “At least we still have a chance, then. A chance to clear my name. And a chance to rescue your career.”
John raised his hand and cradled her face in his palm. “Yeah, there’s hope. As long as we’re still breathing, there’s hope.”
She leaned her cheek against his palm. How could something that felt so right be so wrong? Wrong for her and now worse for him?
A sharp tap on the door echoed the staccato beat of her pulse. “You home, Ace?”
John sucked in a breath and turned to the sound. He crossed the kitchen to the door and pulled it open.
Detective Mylinski strolled inside. His shrewd blue eyes landed on Andrea. “I’m glad you’re here, Andy. I have a few more questions for you.” His tone was dark, ominous, the voice of doom.
Dread squeezed her throat like a strong hand.
“Shoot, Mylinski,” John ordered.
“I just got back from Chicago.” Although his gaze was on John, Andrea couldn’t help feeling he was still watching her, still assessing.
“We heard.”
“From who? Putnam?”
John nodded.
“Did he tell you why I went down there?”
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