by Gina Conroy
“Who.”
“Who?”
“The son of a recently deceased judge is over there having the time of his life.”
Ciara didn’t care what Daniel said; she pivoted and then felt her jaw drop. Alexander Banter sat at a table surrounded by a couple of college coeds. He looked like anything but a grieving son. Instead, he hefted a mug of beer high as if in a toast. Whatever he said, it made the girls laugh. A flush of heat raced through Ciara at the image. “What is he doing?”
“That’s the question of the hour.” Daniel pulled out his phone and hit some buttons. He flipped the phone around to her. “I’ll take these photos to the detective tomorrow. Maybe they need to look into Alexander a bit.”
Ciara swallowed back a wave of bile. “I can’t believe Alexander would do something like that.”
“Well, I know if I were the grieving son, I wouldn’t be out partying days after the funeral.”
“What’s he supposed to do?” Her mind raced for a logical conclusion, one that would stand up in court and didn’t involve the son murdering his father. “And why on earth would he kill his dad? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe, but I’m going to dig.”
“Daniel.” She let the word draw out. “Don’t go looking for a killer everywhere. Next thing you’ll think I did it.”
“Did you?” After a brief moment, he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She straightened and pulled back from him. “You know the answer to that, mister. Besides, I had nothing to gain. What does Alexander have to gain?”
“Freedom from a father with expectations?”
“Hardly seems worth murdering over. He’d already moved out of the house and into the dorms.”
“Money. Maybe he wanted to do things Judge Banter wouldn’t allow.”
“Possible, but still, to kill over it? Eventually Judge Banter would have come around. He wasn’t that hard.”
The laughter behind her built. “To my father. May he rest in peace now that I finally have mine.”
The laughter drizzled to a stop. Ciara gripped the edges of the table to keep from turning and staring. Half the room must have heard him.
“I can’t say I’ll miss him.” The words slurred as a mug slammed against a table.
“See, he’s drunk.” Ciara shook her head. “Tomorrow he’ll be embarrassed if anyone tells him what he did tonight.”
“Maybe.” But the look in his eye let Ciara know Daniel wasn’t letting it go.
Daniel tried to pull his attention from the young fool across the room and back to the beautiful woman in front of him. He sat here for her. He didn’t want more years to go by with this friction and distance between them. But if he kept pulling away to analyze Alexander, then his hopes for tonight would be aborted by none other than himself.
Time to multitask. He’d make a mental note to follow up on Alexander in the morning. But right now, he’d enjoy this time with Ciara. See only her and let her know that.
The waiter set plates piled high with Italian food in front of them. “Anything else right now?”
They shook their heads, and the next moments were quiet as the pasta disappeared.
Ciara dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Will you let it go if the police can’t solve Judge Banter’s murder?”
He grimaced. “I don’t want it to stay unsolved.”
“But what if?”
“Then life will have to go on. What else is there?” He spun fettuccini around his fork and shoved it in his mouth. He studied Ciara while he chewed. What a complex woman, one he wanted to know. To understand. Deeply.
She shifted in the seat as if uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He swallowed and quirked a smile.
“What?” Her word had a timid edge to it, like she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.
“Just wondering what motivates you. What gets you up and going in the morning?”
“That’s not a small question.”
“The best ones rarely are.”
“True.” It was her turn to look beyond him. He gave her the time to consider her answer. “I like to bring hope to women in crisis. Even when they think they want the divorce, it’s a crazy process. And if I can help them reconcile, then I want to.”
“It’s not about the fee?”
“Never. Well, to the partners it is, but I’ve chosen not to take that track—at least for as long as they’ll let me. I always want it to be about people first. About helping them through traumatic experiences. Especially the kids. I don’t know how people can do it to children—” She held up a hand. “I know sometimes there isn’t a choice, but I wish there was.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a mission.”
“I guess I do.” She cut a piece of her veal. “Every choice we make is like this. We think it only impacts ourselves, but it spirals out. Touches all those around us. Some in visible ways, and others in unseen. I’ll never forget how blindsided I felt when my parents split a year ago, and I’m around it for a living. Who’d have thought it would impact an adult child?” Her voice dropped. “But it does. I felt just as lost as that six-year-old who can’t quite understand why Daddy left or Mommy’s moving away.”
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” The words felt awkward and inadequate.
“I don’t tell many people. After all, I’m thirty. It shouldn’t matter as much. But it’s made me question a lot of things that I always thought were constant about my life. I’ve learned that only one thing is unchangeable and unshakeable.”
“God?”
“Absolutely. I can always count on Him—even when I don’t understand. I can’t say that about most people.”
Did he fall in that category? He didn’t dare ask, because he knew the answer. One he didn’t like. “I’d like to become someone in your life you can count on.”
She smiled, but it held shadows. “You used to be.”
The words pounded through him. Used to be. That didn’t sound too promising for and will be again. Yet that was what he wanted. More than anything. To earn the right to be someone she could count on as a constant in her life. To stand there when the bottom fell out and her world shifted.
The waiter stepped up to the table in the silence. “Can I get y’all dessert?”
Ciara shook her head as she pressed a hand into her stomach. “Not me.”
“I think we’re ready for the check.” Daniel wondered if she’d consider ice cream. Most women would jump at it, but Ciara wasn’t like most. No, when he was around her, he wanted to be more than he ever did with others. He wanted to rise to the occasion. Be the man she needed. Would she let him?
As he held her coat for her, he wasn’t sure, but he knew he’d do whatever he could to become that in her life.
The next night, the girls knocked on Ciara’s door for their monthly movie night. The long-running marathon of Cary Grant movies tied them together. As soon as the girls arrived, they had an agenda.
Tara handed Ciara a tub of dip and a plate of chips.
“What are these?” Ciara held them up, knowing it couldn’t be routine chips and dip.
“Mango salsa and homemade cinnamon chips. There’s nothing to them, y’all.” She grabbed the pitcher of tea and stack of cups before heading down the stairs. “But tonight’s not about me, right, Susan?”
The older gal nodded. “Tonight we want the scoop about you and that Daniel Evans.”
“There’s nothing to say. Have either of you heard from Samantha?”
Tara munched a chip, then nodded. “Her grandmother thought Samantha would be back this summer. She’s trying to land an internship at Mount Vernon.”
“That would be wonderful.” Ciara could see the young mother thriving in that environment.
Susan used a chip to point at Ciara. “You still haven’t told us about Daniel, missy.”
Ciara tried to distract the two by starting Arsenic and Old Lace right away, but they simply peppered her with questions over
the top of the movie. If the antics of the two older sisters and Cary Grant couldn’t deter them, Ciara knew she might as well spill the tale.
“There’s nothing to say really.”
Tara began to sputter a protest.
Ciara raised a hand. “Wait a minute. I have to decide whether I care more for Daniel or our differences. Lately, I’ve begun to think I’ve created the differences to keep us apart.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Susan ran a chip through the dip, then popped it in her mouth. “Tara, this is delicious. Want to make some for the shop?”
“Honestly, no. Too much chopping. For you, it’s worth it.
For half of the town, there isn’t enough money in the world.” Tara turned to Ciara. “So? What are you going to do?”
As Cary Grant discovered the body, Ciara realized that was the question she had to answer. What was she going to do?
Chapter 8
The phone rang and rang as Daniel tried to connect with Detective Howard a couple of days after their dinner. Finally, voice mail picked up and he left a message. Would the man even call him back? In the light of another day, it seemed crazy to consider Alexander a suspect in his father’s murder. But he wouldn’t walk away from the strong conviction he’d had at the restaurant.
The day soon erupted out of control with client after potential client calling. It felt like the phone had attached to his shoulder.
“You’ve got to get out of here.” His assistant stood in the doorway, a file in hand. “The hearing is in fifteen minutes.”
Daniel groaned. “Are you sure the detective hasn’t called back?”
“Not yet. What’s the rush?”
“Not positive. Gut feeling, I guess.”
Clive waved the file. “For now, you have to run.”
Daniel pulled his court ID from the desk and stood. “All right.”
He hurried to the court and tried not to be annoyed by opposing counsel. Right now, having Ciara stare at him from the other table would be preferable to the full can of air pontificating with wild gestures. One of the old school, this attorney thought everybody loved to listen to his “wisdom.” It took all Daniel’s self-control not to roll his eyes every other moment at something the man said.
In the end, the judge finally cut him off. “I understand your position. Thank you. I’ll have my ruling in a week.”
As Daniel collected his materials, his phone buzzed on his hip. He hustled from the courtroom and pulled it out. “Evans here.”
“You called?” Detective Howard sounded bored.
“Thanks for calling back.” Daniel stood in a quiet corner and filled the detective in on what he’d seen and heard the prior night. “I don’t know if it matters, but I thought you should know.”
“I’ll check into it.”
“Any reason to think Alexander might be involved?” Daniel pressed the phone closer to his ear.
“I’ll check into it.”
“Okay.” Daniel closed his phone. He’d done everything he could. Maybe he’d call Ciara and fill her in on his walk back to the office. Two nights ago she’d been too nice to tell him he was insane. Did she still feel the same way?
“Daniel Evans on line one for you.”
Ciara glanced at the phone, then back to the legal memo she needed to proof before the close of the business day. “Guess I’ll take it.”
She took a quick breath, then picked up the phone. “Ciara Turner.”
“Hi, this is Daniel.”
She smiled at the question in his voice. “Hello.”
“I wanted to let you know, I talked to the detective on Judge Banter’s case. He said he’d look into the other night.” He paused, and Ciara wondered what had him considering his words. “Just thought I’d fill you in.”
“Thanks. Here’s hoping he can solve the case soon.”
“Yeah.”
As the silence lengthened, she glanced back to the memo. “Anything else?”
“No. Well, yes.” There was another pause. “Have dinner with me Friday.”
Ciara stared at her desk, her eyes not really seeing the papers and files covering it. Did she dare? She wanted to, since she’d seen far enough into Daniel in the last weeks not to want to keep exploring.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“I’ll pick you up a few minutes before seven if that works.”
“Perfect.” After their conversation ended, she hung up and looked down. While they’d talked, she’d doodled across one of the legal pads. Heat climbed her neck and cheeks as she glanced at the words. Ciara woven into the letters Evans. Such a juniorhigh gesture. She ripped the sheet from the pad, then the next as she saw the imprint. She groaned and slammed them into the trash can under her desk.
Maybe she should have said no.
She stood and hurried to the break room for a cup of tea. She needed to clear her thoughts and make room for her clients. Focus on their needs and how she could help them. Somehow she worked for hours, churned out pleading after pleading. Then she threw a few files in her briefcase and headed to her car. The drive down King Street flowed smoothly, the bulk of rush hour ahead of her.
As Ciara turned into the cul-de-sac, it looked like a block party had broken out spontaneously. Her neighbors sat on their porch stoops. A few had pulled grills around from their backyards and smaller ones from patios. The sidewalks had been transformed with chairs and coolers.
“You got here just in time.” Tara grabbed Ciara’s hand and led her to Tara’s doorstep. “I just brought out some fruit slushes. One’s even got your favorite—watermelon.”
Ciara grinned as she tugged lightly free from Tara’s grasp. “I’ll be back in a moment. Let me plop this down first.” She wiggled her keys in front of her. “Drop off my briefcase.”
“Well, hurry back. I’m not sure how long I can protect the slushes.”
“Okay.” Ciara wove through her neighbors, a tilt to her lips as she watched the fun. She wanted to jump in, but something held her back. Still, there was no better way to welcome spring than to celebrate a warm day with her neighbors. Ciara unlocked her front door, then threw the briefcase on the love seat. She clattered up the wood stairs and into her bedroom. After yanking on a pair of jeans and a purple cardigan set, she slipped on a pair of flats and hurried back down the stairs.
Her phone rang as she hit the door. She sighed and turned to the kitchen. Ciara grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey.” Daniel’s lazy voice made her smile.
“Yes?”
“Just wondering when you’re coming out.”
“Coming out?”
“Is there an echo around here?”
Background sounds, music from a radio, the scrape of a can being pulled from ice, the small laugh of a child. Ciara took a step toward the door.
“Where exactly are you?”
“Open the door.”
Ciara’s steps quickened, and she flung open the door. Daniel stood there grinning, holding a clear plastic glass filled with a pink frothy concoction with a curvy straw stuck in it.
“That must be Tara’s touch.” She pointed at the pink straw.
Daniel handed it to her. “Ready to join the party?”
There seemed to be more than the surface question in the words. Ciara considered him a moment, then thrust her thought to the side. “Yes.”
And now that Daniel was there, she was.
There was a special magic in Ciara’s neighborhood. A group of people who enjoyed each other in their non-work hours that Daniel hadn’t seen replicated. In a way, it matched Ciara, one who cautiously considered others. But once she accepted you, that was it. She would do anything for you.
Daniel wanted to land back in that place. One where she expected the best rather than anticipated the worst. They’d eased their way that direction, but he was ready to mark the new column firmly and never deviate from it.
Ciara Turner was entirely too special to let her slip through his grasp. Again.
&n
bsp; She stepped in front of him to interact with one of the neighbor’s children, an adorable little boy with blond curls and large green eyes. He looked up at her with absolute adoration, the kind that said she’d proven herself to him over and over.
And probably through kicking balls around the tennis court.
The little boy scuffed his tennis shoe in the dirt and dropped cherry blossoms along the sidewalk. The kid was enough to make him think about someday. That someday when there’d be a little Daniel and a little Ciara.
Whoa!
He shook his head. Time to dislodge that thought before he got waaaayyyy ahead of himself. She’d barely accept dinner out without studying him as if certain he hid an ulterior motive in his invitation.
He had to stick it out longer than she planned to. Good thing stubborn was his middle name.
The vibration of his phone against his hip pulled his gaze from her. He glanced at the caller ID. Alexandria Sheriff? He touched Ciara’s elbow, waited for her gaze to meet his. He flashed her the screen. “I’ve got to take this.”
“Sure.” She nodded, and he felt her gaze follow him as he stepped around the corner, searching for a quieter spot. “Evans.”
“Mr. Evans, this is Detective Morgan.”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel turned his back on the festivities and focused on the abandoned pool.
“We’ve got Alexander Banter in custody. He’s requested an attorney.”
Daniel held his breath as he waited for the detective to go on. “Yes?”
“He’s requested you.”
The words slammed into Daniel. Could he defend the kid? “Why do you have him?”
“Followed up your call with a few of our own. Mr. Banter is now a person of interest, intense interest, in the death of his father.”
Daniel felt the tension cord his shoulders. “I can’t represent him since I may be a witness against him. He’ll have to try someone else. I wouldn’t represent him even if I weren’t a possible witness.”
“Thought you’d say that. Surprised the kid didn’t figure it out. Must really think he’s fooled everyone.” The detective sighed, and Daniel could imagine him sitting at a battered desk, rubbing exhausted eyes. “Back at it then.”