by Rita Herron
Jane swallowed. “You think I killed this man Victor?”
Halls ran long, slender fingers through his gelled hair. “That’s not what I said. But I’m advising you against a confession. Not until we exhaust all possibilities.”
Anger simmered deep inside her, but she forced herself to be calm. “What do you know about Victor and his death?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Just what the police have told me. But I understand you have amnesia, and we can use that to bargain for time. I’ve requested an emergency bail hearing for this afternoon so I can arrange for your release. Then we can explore your defense strategy.”
He reached out and covered her hand with his.
A shudder coursed through Jane. Every bone in her body screamed that something was wrong here.
That this man wasn’t who he claimed.
Chapter Fifteen
Fletch’s stomach knotted as he watched Jane and her lawyer file into the courtroom. Due to Jane’s amnesia, Halls had managed to finagle an emergency hearing with the local judge that afternoon.
He was relieved Jane wouldn’t have to spend the night in jail, but the thought of her being released with nowhere to go disturbed him.
Jacob addressed the judge and read the charges. Halls stood and suggested bail be set and Jane be released into his custody.
“At this point, all evidence against my client is circumstantial and this woman is ill and does not appear to be a flight risk. I will personally assure the court that she will not flee the country and will be available for questioning when necessary. Meanwhile my client has agreed to enter a therapy program to help her regain her memory of the night in question.”
The judge’s hand shot up. “We are not here to try the case, Mr. Halls. But considering the extenuating circumstances, I agree the best course for obtaining justice is for Jane Doe to enter counseling. Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars.”
Halls smiled and adjusted his tie. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
The judge pounded his gavel and dismissed the court. Jacob stood and Fletch moved up beside him. He silently willed Jane to look at him, but she didn’t. She seemed stoic and resigned.
Halls escorted her to the court clerk to settle bail. “I don’t like him,” Fletch said in a low growl.
“Any specific reason?” Jacob asked.
Fletch scrunched his nose in thought. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Maybe you’re just too close to the situation,” Jacob said. “Too close to Jane.”
Fletch made a low sound in his throat. “I guess since I found her, I feel protective of her,” he admitted. “Part of my job. Now it’s hard to walk away.”
Jacob gave him a half-cocked smile. “You sure it was just the job?”
No, he wasn’t. But he wasn’t about to confess that he’d almost made love to Jane. That he still wanted to. That he’d fantasized about clearing her name and taking her to his house and spending all night giving her pleasure.
“Just check that lawyer out,” Fletch said, avoiding the question. “Make sure he’s who he says he is.”
“I plan to. And I’m still waiting on fingerprint and DNA results on Jane, as well as the evidence you brought in.”
“Where do we stand on the bodies recovered from the trail?”
“Both men are at the morgue. Waiting on autopsies.”
“Identifying them might tell us more about what happened,” Fletch said.
While Halls posted bail, Fletch crossed the room into the hallway and called Jane’s name.
She’d looked calm and composed in the courtroom, but he detected fear beneath that calm facade.
“Jane, do you recognize this lawyer?”
She shook her head. “He says he knows where I live, that he’s driving me to my house.” She gave a small shrug. “Going home might trigger my memories.”
True. “I can go with you,” Fletch offered.
Halls stepped over to join them. “That’s not a good idea,” Halls said. “Bianca, this man is the sheriff’s brother. He could be fishing for information to share with the sheriff, information to use against you.”
Jane’s eyes flickered with unease as if she hadn’t considered that possibility. Fletch gritted his teeth. Didn’t she know him any better than that?
Halls took Jane’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. Being in your own environment might prompt a breakthrough with your memory loss.”
Fletch rushed to catch up with them as Halls herded her out the door. Fletch slipped his business card into the pocket of her jacket. “He’s wrong about me,” he murmured close to her ear. “Call me if you need me.”
Halls glared at him. “I thought I made myself clear, Mr. Maverick. Leave my client alone. She is to talk to no one but me.”
Then he hustled Jane out the door toward a black Cadillac. A minute later, Halls drove away, carrying Jane with him.
* * *
JANE HAD DREADED spending the night in jail, but leaving with this virtual stranger intensified her feelings of trepidation.
When he’d addressed the judge, she had a sudden flashback. Halls was standing in the room with her when her husband had been shot.
But that didn’t make sense. Was her mind playing tricks on her?
If Halls had been at the scene, did he know who’d killed her husband? If so, why hadn’t he pointed the police in the direction of the real killer?
He steered his Cadillac out of town and veered onto the highway. “Where are we going?” Jane asked.
His cool gray eyes skated over her, then back to the road. “To your weekend house,” he said. “Like I told the judge, being home might help trigger your memory of that night.”
Jane twisted her hands together in her lap. “Is that where my husband was shot?”
He breathed out, low and steady. “Yes. You guys own a beautiful mountain cabin outside of Asheville.”
“And I was an interior decorator?”
“That’s right. You and Victor worked together.”
Jane studied him. “What kind of law do you practice?”
He kept his eyes on the road as he sped around a curve. “Currently I handle divorce cases, but I litigated criminal cases early in my career.”
But now he specialized in divorce? “How did you know me and Victor?” Jane asked. “Were we filing for a divorce?”
He tapped the steering wheel as he turned off the main highway onto the road leading toward Asheville. “No. Victor sold me my house, and you decorated it. You were such a power couple that I recommended your services to some of my acquaintances, then we became friends.”
Jane worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “You said you believe that I’m innocent. What about the evidence the sheriff had against me?”
“All circumstantial.” He loosened his tie.
She latched on to that fact. “Tell me more about my relationship with Victor.”
“You were madly in love with Victor, and he felt the same about you. Your marriage was stable. No infidelity on either part. In fact, you were planning a family.”
They were? Jane mentally chastised herself. If they were so in love and planning a family, why couldn’t she remember him or their wedding?
Because his death was too traumatic? Because she’d witnessed it?
“Nothing feels right,” Jane said. “One of the few memories I have is the moment his body flew backward when the bullet pierced his chest.”
Halls’s breath punctuated the air. “So you witnessed the shooting?”
Jane shook her head. “I think so, but I don’t remember the shooter’s face, although...”
The car slowed as he maneuvered a turn, and he cut a sideways look at her. “Although what?”
Jane decided on the direct approach. “I thought you were ther
e. I...saw you.”
A vein throbbed in his neck. “You’re obviously confused, Bianca. I have been to your house, but I was definitely not there the night Victor died.”
His gray eyes skated over as if to say that was the end of the subject.
“Why don’t you close your eyes and rest? It’ll take about an hour to reach the house.”
Jane’s heart hammered. She didn’t trust Halls. But hopefully when she revisited the place where Victor was killed, the past would come back to her.
* * *
“SOMETHING ABOUT THAT lawyer seems off to me,” Fletch told Jacob.
Jacob chuckled. “Maybe you don’t like the fact that Jane is with him and not you.”
His brother had hit the nail on the head. Not that Jane was with him... “Can you run a background check on him?” Fletch asked. “Verify he’s not some fake?”
“I’m on it as soon as we get back to the station,” Jacob said. “I called Liam for help, too. He has resources that I don’t.”
Fletch thanked him, then they both climbed in their cars and drove back to the police station. He spoke to Jacob’s deputy, Martin Rowan, and grabbed a cup of coffee on his way to Jacob’s office. Jacob did the same, then sank in his desk chair and turned to his computer.
Jacob entered the name Woodruff Halls and ran a search. Fletch pulled a chair up to the desk and stared over Jacob’s shoulder as information spilled onto the screen.
“He has no record, no arrests,” Jacob said. “Here’s his website. Halls Attorney at Law.” The photograph of the lawyer was even more polished than the real man who’d appeared in court. Photoshop could do wonders these days.
Jacob maneuvered the site, and Fletch skimmed several reviews from clients, all glowing and praising his professionalism. Male clients seemed to be especially vocal about their settlements. Two had raved about how he’d stuck it to their cheating spouses.
Another section detailed criminal cases Halls had tried when he’d first graduated from law school. Nothing major, mostly petty crimes.
“He probably realized divorce cases were more profitable and switched specialties,” Jacob muttered in disdain.
Fletch grimaced. On paper, the man was exactly who he claimed to be.
A knock sounded at the door and Liam poked his head in. “Hey, guys.”
Jacob waved him inside, and Liam glanced at the computer screen.
“Just checked out the lawyer representing Jane Doe,” Jacob said.
Liam gave them a grim look. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Fletch’s pulse jumped. His brother had answers. Hopefully to help clear Jane, not to prove her guilt. “Tell us what you learned.”
Liam leaned one hip on the desk. “That’s just it. I didn’t find anything on Bianca and Victor Renard.”
“What do you mean?” Jacob asked. “No record of arrests on their part? Their business was legit, with no complaints?”
Liam rested his arm on his leg. “I mean I didn’t find anything, as in no record that Bianca or Victor Renard even exist.”
Fletch’s response died in his throat.
“How is that possible?” Jacob pushed away from his computer. “The report I received about the missing person matching Jane Doe’s description came from a police officer. So did copies of the prints and crime scene report.”
Liam made a clicking sound with his teeth. “I don’t know what’s going on, Jacob. But I looked into that officer and he’s been suspended for accepting bribes. He could have intercepted your inquiry about the missing persons, and responded with a fake report.”
Fletch’s mind raced.
A second later, panic seized him. “If Bianca and Victor Renard don’t exist, why the hell did Halls show up to defend Jane? Why did he claim he knew them personally and that Jane was innocent?”
“Good question,” Liam said.
Jacob coughed into his hand. “If Jane is not Bianca, who is she?”
Fletch stood, fear hacking away at his calm. He’d started to believe that Jane had lied to him. That she was making a fool out of him as Hannah had done.
But this was different. Very, very different. Something was wrong.
Jane was in danger.
* * *
JANE STARTLED AS the car jerked to a stop. She was dazed and confused. She’d been dreaming about Fletch, not the shooting or her dead parents or other dead bodies and blood.
Halls veered onto a side road that led into deep woods. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
“I thought we lived in a subdivision,” Jane said, drawing on the fleeting pieces of memories she’d recovered.
Halls rolled his shoulders. “You own a house in a subdivision, but this was your second home, your private getaway.”
Jane gripped the edge of the seat. Something about these woods seemed familiar. Yet strangely odd.
Ominous. Deserted.
“I’m not ready for this,” she said, her voice cracking. “I...think I should go to a hotel for the night or at least to the house in the subdivision.”
His voice grew icy. “I thought you wanted to remember what happened so you could clear your name.”
Perspiration beaded on Jane’s neck. “I do, but the doctor warned me not to push it, that I would remember when I’m mentally ready.”
The car bounced over ruts in the road, the woods swallowing them into the darkness as he drove down a narrow graveled road.
“Really, Mr. Halls—”
“It’s Woodruff, Bianca.” He covered her hand with his. His skin felt clammy, cold, and his reassuring squeeze made her skin crawl. “Remember, we’re friends. And I’m here to help.”
“Then please take me back,” she said firmly. “I told you I’m not ready to do this.”
He kept driving. “It may be difficult to face what happened, but once you remember who shot Victor, you’ll thank me.”
She doubted it. But it seemed futile to argue. He was barreling ahead, oblivious to her rising panic.
They drove deeper into the woods. A few cabins dotted the hills here and there. The towering trees and sharp ridges reminded her of when she’d been lost on the trail, running for her life.
Finally they reached a clearing where a small log cabin sat. The mountains rose in the background, tall and ominous-looking, as if the cabin had been built in the center of the ridges to offer privacy. Yet it was so secluded, it also seemed...dangerous.
Her skin prickled again. She didn’t want to be isolated right now. She ached to be back with Fletch, with people surrounding her, people she could trust.
“Here we are.” The lawyer parked and slid from the vehicle, then walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.
Jane sat frozen in the seat, her chest aching with the effort to breathe.
“Come on, Jane, let’s go inside.”
Fear choked her. Halls reached for her hand, and she stared at the long, manicured fingers. That black signet ring with the gold H on it. Those fingers wrapped around a...gun...
Suddenly the world blurred...
A gunshot sounded, then a shout, and she saw her husband falling, blood spraying.
She screamed, turned and picked up the gun on the floor. But someone jumped her and threw her to the ground. The gun went off again, then she was clawing at the man on top of her, fighting him off.
“Bianca?”
A man’s voice jarred her from the images, but when she looked up at the lawyer, she knew he had lied.
Halls had been there. His hands...that signet ring...
She had to get away from him.
She shoved her feet upward and kicked him, knocking him to the ground. Then she jumped over the console, started the engine again and peeled down the driveway.
Whoever Halls was, he wasn’t her friend.
Jane pressed the accelerator and flew down the narrow road, gravel spewing from the lawyer’s car.
Maybe she was making a mistake. Maybe she’d simply had an anxiety attack at the prospect of revisiting the scene of her husband’s murder. Maybe Halls hadn’t been at the scene of the shooting.
But the moment he’d walked into the interrogation room at the jail, an eerie sense that he was dangerous had overwhelmed her.
And that signet ring. She wasn’t paranoid. He was there. He had lied.
She glanced over her shoulder to see if he was following. Thankfully she hadn’t seen another car at the cabin, so he couldn’t be behind her.
Relief rushed through her, and she maneuvered the turns through the woods until she connected to the main highway. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to escape Halls.
She didn’t trust him.
Without knowing who she was, she couldn’t trust anyone.
Except...Fletch.
Halls’s words about Fletch feeding information to his brother taunted her. He could be right.
Except she’d felt a connection between her and Fletch. A trust that she certainly hadn’t felt with the lawyer.
She pressed the accelerator and checked over her shoulder again. He might have called the police on her. Traffic on the main highway buzzed by.
A siren wailed and she froze, body rigid as she glanced up and saw a police car zooming closer behind her.
Dear God, he had called the cops on her. Told them she was skipping bail. That she’d stolen his car.
She held her breath, slowed and pulled over into the right lane. A second later, the police car raced by.
Thank God.
Her hands felt clammy as she clenched the steering wheel. She had no idea where to go or what to do now.
Mentally, she tossed around different ideas as she drove toward Whistler. She could find a place and hide out. No. Running like a criminal would only make things worse. She wanted the truth, to know who she was.
And why someone wanted her dead.
Traffic thickened, and she fell into one lane, maintaining a steady speed so as not to attract attention.