Her hands trembled and, fearing a spill, she set the mug down, then flexed her quivering fingers. A total wreck. But she’d keep quiet and let Penny handle it. For once, someone else could do the dirty work. Right?
Right.
Except someone else hadn’t lived with her mother night after night and listened to the never-ending weeping. Sometimes, on the really rough nights, the weeping turned into sobs and Emma shoved earplugs in because she couldn’t stand the torture her mother was enduring. Even now, eighteen months after her younger child had been found guilty and shoved in a cage, Mom still cried herself to sleep.
Emma bit her lip. Let Penny handle it. But, but, but how hard would it be to tell the truth?
She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t sit here simply accepting the lies. Nope, can’t do it. “Mr. Vernon, are you a parent?”
Ever so slowly, Penny inched around and gave Emma the wide-eyed, don’t-make-me-kill-you glare.
“I have three children,” Mr. Vernon said.
Emma nodded. “Sir, I know you wanted to help find a murderer by testifying and I appreciate your willingness to do that.”
“But?”
“But my mother has a son in prison. If someone were to accuse one of your children of a crime, a crime that would send them to prison for the better part of their adult life, wouldn’t you want that person to be sure of what he saw?”
“I am sure.”
Emma gripped the sofa cushion and squeezed. “I don’t think you are, sir. I stood outside the alley myself last night and couldn’t see the white shirt. There were two of us. Neither of us saw him.”
Penny scooted forward. “Mr. Vernon—”
He held his finger up. “Are you accusing me of lying?”
Uh-oh. Penny would skin her. “No, sir. I’m trying to figure out what it is you saw.”
Penny set her hand on Emma’s arm. Okay. Point taken. Emma was shutting up now.
“Mr. Vernon, I’m sure you’re aware that a video has surfaced that shows one of the detectives confessing to pressuring witnesses.” Penny dug in her briefcase for her phone. “I have a copy of the video if you’d like to see it.”
“Don’t need to.”
“No?”
“No.”
She dropped her phone back in the purse. “That’s fine. Let’s talk about the night the police questioned you. You were shown a series of photographs, correct? Six, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes.”
“After that you were taken to view a lineup, correct?”
Vernon shifted away from Emma and her pulse kicked. The man couldn’t even look at her. His body language all but screamed it. This was getting good.
“Yes.”
“And you identified Brian Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Vernon, how many of the men in the photo lineup were wearing a white shirt?”
Vernon opened his mouth then stopped, tilted his head as if stumped.
“Sir?”
Go, Penny.
“Just one.”
Penny made a note and Mr. Vernon’s eyes bounced every which way. God, she was good.
“I see. The only one in a white shirt was Brian Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“And at what point did the white shirt enter into the conversation?”
Again, Mr. Vernon shifted, his shoulders slumping a bit. His entire body seemed to fold and Emma’s heart banged. Please, let this be it.
“Before the photo lineup,” Mr. Vernon said. “The detectives asked me if I remembered the person in the alley wearing a white shirt.”
“So the detectives suggested that to you?”
“Well, they asked me.”
“And you remembered that.”
Vernon licked his lips. “I identified the kid. That’s who I saw in the alley.” He turned to Emma. “I’m sorry for your family. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I can’t help you, though.” He stood. “Thank you for coming. I’ll show you out.”
Emma gawked, her mouth literally hanging open while Mr. Vernon hurried from the room. Just that fast, everything had derailed. How?
She glanced at Penny who shoved her notepad back in her briefcase then held her finger to her lips. “It’s okay,” she mouthed.
Emma nodded. What else could she do? At this moment, she had to be a professional. She couldn’t be a grieving, heartbroken sister. She followed Penny through the house and nodded at Mr. Vernon as she strode out the front door.
“Well, that was a bust,” Emma said when they reached the sidewalk.
She glanced back at the house where she’d blown her chance to help her brother. Penny charged in the direction of Emma’s car. She must have been parked in the same general area.
“Since when are you so negative? Buck up, sister. I told you we were about to climb Everest. We’re barely at the first camp and you’ve got a long face.”
Oh, and now she was gonna start? “Excuse me? You forget who’s been doing this climb for two years now.”
“Yeah, without a Sherpa. I’m the Sherpa. I’ll get your butt to the top. You can’t give up.” She stopped, hefted her briefcase higher on her shoulder and folded her arms. “That was our first go at him. I didn’t expect to walk out with a confession. We presented our case. We rattled him. Now we let him stew on it. He’ll cave. Did you see the way he looked at you when you gave him that parent speech? Girlfriend, you’re gonna be an amazing lawyer.”
Wasn’t that what Zac had said? Coming from these two, with their lineage, she might even start to believe it.
“I thought I blew it.”
“I’ll admit that you scared me for a second, so let’s stick to the script next time, but it worked. Obviously, he’s a man with a conscience. My guess is that at this very second he’s dialing his detective buddies wanting to know if they manipulated him.”
She spun around front and started walking again. “I love this job, Emma. It’s such a rush.”
Emma did her half walk, half run thing to catch up. Penny had to be one of the tiniest women Emma had ever laid eyes on, yet she moved like a ninja. “I think you’re insane.”
“You’re not the first to accuse me of that. Here’s my car. Just so you know, I’m sending an investigator to talk to Chelsea’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I figure after his father paid you that visit the other night and with Zac pressuring him from the SA’s side, it couldn’t hurt to get under the kid’s skin. Who knows if anything will come of it? I’m guessing not because Daddy will tell him to keep his lips buttoned, but, hey, you never know. It would be interesting to know if he was the one in that alley with you last night.”
Emma closed her eyes, let her mind drift back. “I’d remember his voice. Mean. Nasty.”
“Good. That’s important. You need to be careful, okay? My dad thinks you need protection. I tend to agree.”
“I can’t afford that. I’ll be careful. No more stunts. I promise.”
“We could probably help with the expenses for protection. I’ll ask my father.”
Absolutely not. There was only so much charity she could handle. “I’m not taking money from you. You’re doing enough.”
Penny fished her keys from her briefcase and hit the UNLOCK button. “Think about it. Great work today. Don’t worry. This is all good. Just hang in there with me, okay?”
Emma nodded. “I will. Thank you.”
“No. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me look like a superstar, of course. And whatever you do, don’t have sex with my brother.”
Emma’s feet fused to the ground and it had nothing to do with a stuck heel. What?
Penny opened her car door and
tossed her briefcase in. “I know my brother and he wants to jump you. A sexual relationship between the two of you would be emotional warfare. He wants to win as much as we do. If he wins, you lose. If you win, he loses. Either way, one of you gets hurt.”
* * *
ZAC KNOCKED ON HIS boss’s half-open office door and stuck his head in. “Got a sec?”
Ray looked up from the document he’d been reading, dropped his glasses on the desk and sat back. “Whatcha got?”
Aggravating his boss required privacy so Zac shut the door.
“Oh, hell. You’re gonna ruin my day, aren’t you?”
A little bit, yeah. Zac sat on the miserable love seat against the wall. Not that the place had room for a love seat, but he supposed being the boss meant Ray wanted something no one else had. Something like a love seat in an office already crammed with an overstuffed bookcase.
“I went to the alley. Where Chelsea Moore was murdered.”
Ray groaned.
“Yeah. We got a witness saying he saw Brian Sinclair in that alley wearing a white shirt. Last night I had the bouncer from the bar stand in the alley in a white shirt.”
Ray groaned louder. He understood exactly where they were headed.
“I think we need an investigator on this. My sister is all over the shirt.”
The SA’s office had its own investigative bureau, which handled specialized offenses, including official misconduct. They were the impartial eyes of Cook County and if ever a case warranted an impartial eye, it was this one.
“Hang on. You told your sister?”
“No. Emma Sinclair was with me. She told my sister.”
Ray jerked his head. “What?”
Go easy here. The boss popping his cork wouldn’t help. “She called me last night with this theory about the white shirt. She wanted me to authenticate her experiment.” Close enough to the truth. “I met her there. The shirt couldn’t be seen. If I know my sister, she’s already leaning on the witness trying to get him to recant.”
Ray grabbed a notepad and pen and started writing. “We’ve got the video and the shirt. And let’s not forget Ben Leeks’s stunt with Emma Sinclair,” Zac’s boss said.
“No GPRs in the case file. What there is of a case file.”
More notes. “Right.”
“Ray, these detectives phoned it in. There are too many holes. They latched onto Brian Sinclair and made it fit. Right now, I’m not sure the kid did it.”
Ray snapped his head up. “Whoa.”
“I’m not saying he didn’t. I’m saying we don’t have enough to know. If I was working Felony Review and the cops came to me with this case, I’d say they don’t have the horsepower.”
Ray slapped his pen down and ran both hands through his short black hair. Tension Zac hadn’t felt all that often filled the cramped office. He waited. Talking now would be suicide.
The baseboard heater clunked. Zac ignored it. He refused to move. Finally, Ray gave up on his hair and set his hands on the desk, his fingers tapping the memo he’d abandoned. “All you had to do was make this go away. Now you’re telling me you can’t.”
A sharp stab hit the back of Zac’s neck. What the hell? Busting his tail on this and his boss is miffed because the case is a stinker. Forget about the guy they locked up, the one who might be innocent. “Am I supposed to concoct evidence? Talk to the detectives and see what the hell they were thinking by not writing up any reports?”
“There’s gotta be something.”
Sure. Right. No sweat. Zac grunted. “This case is a disaster. And, no, I can’t make it go away.”
“It’s been less than a week. How can you know that?”
Unbelievable. “Come on. I know a dog when I see one. This is a crippled dog.”
“Then work it harder. Make something happen.”
For the first time, a picture of his boss formed. A picture Zac didn’t like. One that pitted a political system against a twenty-two-year-old kid convicted of murder. Sickness rolled in his belly. What was wrong with these people that they let politics dictate the outcome of trials? He was far from an idealist, but this sizzled him.
Zac shot out of his chair and threw the door open. It hit the wall hard and Ray stared at it, his cheeks turning a flaming red.
“Don’t you walk out of here.”
To hell with that. “I think we’re done.”
“Hennings!”
But Zac kept moving. No sense stopping. He’d just alerted his superior that they had catastrophic problems with a murder conviction and the only advice he’d received was to make it go away. As if it would be that simple. As if he’d be able to live with himself knowing they put this kid away on bogus evidence. Well, he couldn’t. Call him the last good guy standing, but if his boss wanted to reprimand him, demote him, so be it. He wasn’t about to risk his law license by rigging a case.
Chapter Eleven
Emma climbed the stairs to Zac’s second-floor apartment and a sudden case of the jitters sent her pulse twitching. She paused in the center of the staircase.
Run.
Being here with him—alone—was probably a mistake. Probably? No question about it. This was a colossal risk. After the scorching kiss-fest a few days ago she might have lost a few brain cells. Either that or her body and its lack of male attention had taken over and decided not to heed Penny’s warning about Zac.
But hey, they were adults capable of controlling themselves. She glanced at the folders tucked in her right arm.
It’s fine.
She hefted the shopping bag in her other hand to her wrist, grabbed the knob at the top of the polished oak railing and pulled herself up. She loved these old houses with all the dark wood trim. The door to his apartment opened and there stood Zac, wearing black track pants and a T-shirt that hugged his shoulders in all the right ways. He never wore tight clothes, but somehow they always molded to the long, lean muscles that spanned his upper body. His blond hair was wet and combed back, revealing those perfectly angular cheeks and—yep—Emma needed a man.
Pronto.
So much for not thinking about it.
Total mistake.
Zac grabbed the stack of file folders from her. “Something wrong?”
Everything. What was she doing letting herself get involved with the prosecutor on her brother’s case? Brian’s only chance in eighteen months and Emma was hormonal about the hot prosecutor. She should march right down the stairs and out the door. No harm done. Except she couldn’t discount the kisses they’d shared. Those were definitely something.
She hadn’t slept with him, though. Even if the way Zac Hennings moved turned her liquid and made her fantasize about things they could do together.
“Emma?”
Walk away.
She handed him the bag of takeout. Too late now. “Sorry. Thinking too much.”
“I know the feeling. Come in.” He shut the door behind her and set the folders on the side table. When he turned back to her she spotted it, the hardness in his eyes, the taut cheeks and locked jaw. Standing this close, his raw energy, primal and predatory reached her, sending a burst of heat to her core.
Is it hot in here? “Bad day?” she asked.
“My day stunk.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
He stepped closer, staring down at her for a second while his gaze moved over her face, stalled at her lips and then went to her trench coat. Zac had something on his mind and—being the smart girl she was—she could make a good guess as to what it was.
Walk away.
“You feel that?”
Sure do. She swallowed. “Um—”
“It’s crazy. The minute I get close to you, it’s an explosion.”
He slipped his hands into the neckline of
her coat, pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms, and caught it before it hit the floor. He tossed it over the living room chair.
But his eyes were on her lips again. Her stomach dropped and heat surged and—wow—she got a little woozy. Two rational adults.
He dipped his head closer, teasing, testing to see if she’d meet him halfway.
No. She stepped back, hunched her shoulders. “We’re not behaving. Either one of us.”
It shouldn’t have been wrong. Not when it felt so right and good and natural. Since Brian’s nightmare began, she’d been denying herself the basic human need to be touched. To be loved. And now she had her chance. For Emma. Not for anyone else but her. For once, only she should matter. I need a man.
This man.
Zac straightened, shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. My fault.” He banged his hands on his head. “I’m all screwed up. I know it’s wrong, but I want what I want.”
He wasn’t the only one. Maybe just once what would be so bad about that? No strings. Even if she’d never been the no-strings kind of girl, she’d make this one exception. I want what I want. That want pushed her to her tiptoes, stretching toward him, angling her head until her lips hovered close enough to feel his breath on her face. She waited, hoping he might stop her.
I need a man. Screw it. She clamped her hand on the back of his neck and hauled him closer. His lips slid across hers and she mangled his shirt in her fist while Penny’s warning blared in her head.
Penny who?
She focused on the feel of his perfect lips on hers and pressed closer, needing the contact, the feel of his body against her. So long she’d been without affection, without the caress of hands. Then her skin caught fire, every inch sizzling, and she wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled. How close could she get? She wasn’t sure, but she knew it wasn’t enough. Enough of this didn’t exist. She’d always want more.
He broke away and kissed across her jaw. Emma lifted her chin, exposing her neck.
“Atta, girl,” he said.
“Penny says we shouldn’t have sex.”
“Penny is a pain in the ass.”
More kisses and his hands moved under her blouse, his thumb stroking her belly. Penny who? “You could be right about that.”
THE PROSECUTOR Page 12