He stared into his mug as he tipped and rotated it. “Might have been somebody’s idea of fun. Kids — and people old enough to know better — used to tease him. Teddie was a gentle person. He never hurt anyone.”
“He testified against you.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “He didn’t know it.” Then any semblance of amusement went. “Someone fed him a load of crap.”
“And then, the theory goes,” she picked up, “killed him to keep him from accidentally disclosing how he’d been manipulated.” She felt the mug’s surface imperfections against her palms. “I know he didn’t hear you and Pan. Not just from the recording. I went there. It couldn’t have been the way Teddie said.”
“No, it couldn’t have. Even if Teddie had been right at the edge of the clearing he’d barely have heard, because we never raised our voices. Though we did have a disagreement.”
Now she looked up. She was going to ask this. Not every question was cross-examination. “Did Rick Wade have cause to be jealous of you?”
“Not in the way he was.” Sorrow. No one element of expression, posture, voice formed it, yet she felt the edges of his sorrow. He’d loved Pan. He’d wanted to be her lover. “Pan came back to Bedhurst after she finished college. She wanted to teach kids, but there weren’t any jobs. She told me Rick had come back, too. It wasn’t long before they were married. She seemed happy at first. Then she wasn’t happy. I got an email from her. Said her marriage was breaking up, and she needed to see me. Would I come home when I could? Anya had left me this place, that gave me a reason to be in Bedhurst.”
Less than two weeks later, Pan was dead and he was charged with murder.
She could cross-examine him, as she had in court, and, yes, since. Would she learn more from yes or no questions?
“What happened that day, J.D.?”
He put his mug down, but kept his gaze on it. “She said she was ready to file for divorce. She wanted to come back with me. Start a new life. Together.”
In that one final word, Maggie heard hope then, grief now.
“I said she needed to give her marriage another chance, not leave any doubts, regrets. I couldn’t have stood it, looking at her and seeing regrets about being with me. If she gave it a real chance with Wade, and still felt that way… She tried to change my mind. We’d talked about it at Shenny’s and I wrote out the address of the apartments near the base I’d gotten the day before and gave it to her, to show I meant it about if things didn’t work with Wade. Then she drove me back to Anya’s cabin. She wanted to make love. She wanted at least that much. I said no. She was crying when I left.” His hands dropped between his knees. “That was the reason…”
“The reason what?”
He straightened, his expressions defiant, determined. I’m telling you this and you’re not going to stop me, no matter how you react.
“I had this sense someone… I didn’t see anyone. Christ, I barely looked. I was too busy making sure Pan did what would be best for me, making sure I wouldn’t have any uncertainties or doubts. I told myself it was military instincts on overdrive. And with her crying… If I didn’t leave I was going to give in — Give in,” he repeatedly harshly. “Besides, what the hell could there be to fear in Bedhurst?”
He waited. She suspected it was for her to make a comment. She had none … and too many to pick one.
“Next day, her mom called, worried because Pan hadn’t come home the night before. Wanted to know if she was with me.”
Commonwealth v. J.D. Carson
Witness J.D. Carson (defendant)
Cross-Examination by ACA Frye
Q. After you heard that Mrs. Wade was missing, your testimony was that you went straight to the back entrance to the park?
A. Yes.
Q. You went there because, according to your testimony, that seemed the most logical place to start?
A. Yes.
Q. The most logical place for you to find a dead body?
Mr. Monroe: Objection to characterization.
THE COURT: Sustained.
Q. Yes, Your Honor. You testified you went there and found Ms. Wade, deceased, right?
A. Yes.
Q. You said you did not approach her body?
A. That is correct. I did not approach her body.
Q. Was that a shock for you to find the body of this woman you’d known since childhood?
A. Yes, it was.
Q. Yet you testified that you had the presence of mind not to disturb the crime scene, is that correct?
A. Yes.
Q. Because you could see that she was dead from a distance — twenty-two feet the crime scene measured it at — is that correct?
A. Yes. I’ve seen death before, Ms. Frye.
Q. Yes, you have. You certainly have.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
“Tell me about that spot, the other clearing, up the ridge from the crime scene.”
“You saw it. Smaller clearing, rougher track with a great vantage for watching somebody below without being seen yourself.”
“Pan was killed in summer, the leaves were all out. Would’ve been a lot harder to see below if someone wanted to spy.”
He nodded. “Also meant better cover for anyone up there. Plus, the plants were five years smaller.”
She shifted, facing him. “Tell me about ‘Nothing. This Time.’ ”
He returned her look for ten, then twenty seconds. “There were footprints up there after Pan was murdered.”
“What? What makes you think that?”
“Not think. Know. I saw them.”
“Why didn’t you tell—”
“I did. The sheriff. The deputy. Dallas.”
“There is not a word in the official file—”
He grunted disdain for the file.
“—and nothing at trial or—”
“Sheriff never checked and they were rained out by the time Dallas could get someone up there. It would have sounded like a desperate story with nothing to back it up.” His mouth twitched. “You would have made sure of that.”
She sure would have tried.
“What kind of footprints?”
He grimaced. “They were already pretty sloppy when I saw them the day after Pan was found. Wet — soaked ground and a rainstorm — had distorted the size and shape. Hard to tell if they were from a man or woman. Couldn’t have come from a real big guy or a kid, that’s about all I could tell for size. Probably not hiking boots. Maybe running shoes. The one thing real clear was there were a number of them — a dozen, maybe more — right where somebody would stand for the best view down to where Pan parked her car whenever she dropped me off.”
“All made at the same time?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. Some were in a lot worse shape than others. The ones in the best shape were fairly deep, like the person stood in the same spot a spell and sank deeper into the muck.”
“There were no tracks at the overlook this time,” Maggie reminded him.
“No. There weren’t. This time was different. With Pan, it was a murder of opportunity. The killer watched her, approached her when she was alone. Hadn’t brought a weapon, used her gun. Maybe didn’t intend to do it at all. Until something set him — or her — off. But the murderer planned to kill Laurel.
“The murderer had to arrange to meet her there. There’s no other way Laurel would end up in that clearing. She wouldn’t go there on her own. And this time he brought the means.”
She was silent half a minute. “How many people know that spot?”
“Anybody who ran these woods as a kid, which is pretty much every soul who grew up in the county.”
“I get the feeling you have a love-hate relationship with this county. Why did you stay here after you were acquitted?”
“Everyone here knew who I was, knew I’d been tried for murder, knew I’d been acquitted, and knew some people thought I’d gotten away with murder. Outside Bedhurst, the trial is something for people to f
ind out.”
“You’ve made this another kind of prison.”
“The food’s a lot better. And so’s the view.” He stood. “Speaking of food, how about some.”
* * * *
He heated soup and made grilled cheese sandwiches in a cast iron skillet that were the best she’d ever had.
When he started cleaning up, she picked up a towel to dry the wood-handled spoons and the heavy skillet while he put the rest in the dishwasher.
As she went to hang the damp towel on the oven handle, their paths crossed.
He stopped.
Directly in front of her but not touching.
…you better be prepared…
Was she?
Waiting, waiting, waiting. Leaving her time to back away, despite his words.
Words echoed now not as a threat, but a prediction.
She hadn’t let herself want him yesterday. Now she could.
She wanted him.
Slowly, he raised his hand, brushed her hair back from her forehead with the back of his fingers, watching the movement.
He slid first one hand, then the other along the line of her jaw, under her ear, and around. Touching her, but not holding her, not compelling.
He didn’t need to.
Slowly, he bent his head to her. She tipped hers back.
She felt his breath on her lips but still he didn’t touch them.
“I’ve wanted to do this since…”
His lips brushed hers.
Then again. Again. Again.
She stretched up, extending the contact. Kissing him.
She felt it all through her, deep inside her, but also odd spots. As if the back of her knees melted, her palms tingled, her shoulders ached.
Against her lips, she felt the ridge of the scar near the corner of his mouth. A point of friction, the slightest rasp sensitized her lips even more.
She pulled her mouth away. His lips slid over her jaw, down her throat. Lower. A button gave way, another. His mouth grazed the sensitive skin above her bra.
“Say it, J.D.,” she whispered.
He stilled, then raised his head.
Not meeting his gaze, she touched her tongue to that scar, tracing it from the corner of his mouth, diagonally across his chin, and disappearing under his jaw. “Say it?”
“No.”
“I didn’t — I don’t mean a declaration of love. I don’t need tha—”
“I know what you want me to say.”
“Then why won’t you? You said it before.”
“That’s why.”
“But…”
His face was impassive. Or was it? The tick of the muscle under the scar at his jaw. And his body. His body wasn’t impassive. Not at all.
“But what, Maggie?” he asked, soft and sharp.
But I need to hear it.
Or did she?
An alibi she could rely on, because it was her.
That was proof. That was certainty.
She reached up with one hand, circled to the back of his head and pressed, bringing his mouth back to hers. Under her fingertips she felt the muscles of his neck tighten to resist. She added her other hand. His resistance strengthened.
She came up on her toes, leaning against him, her mouth two inches short of his. Feeling the sharp bursts of air from him. Once. Twice.
Then his mouth came down on hers.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The second time they made it up the stairs to his bed. Barely.
Now she observed that odd sensation of weightlessness, like she had no body to move even if she could have commanded her muscles.
J.D. turned his head toward her, but didn’t move otherwise. Perhaps he was in the same state.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
“Thinking about your expression when Doranna called you hon.”
She made a noncommittal hum in response. Her mind, feeling as weightless as the rest of her, flitted away. “Judge Blankenship said you were in his courtroom a lot as a kid, watching when your mom…”
He filled in her pause, “Was called up before him. Yeah.”
“Is that why you went into law?”
“Mmm. It gave me an early interest. Made me realize words could be actions, too, especially in a courtroom. Being on trial myself got me a little interested, too,” he said dryly.
“You really went to my trials? When?”
“Mostly while I was preparing to take the bar. Studied your cases and studied you.” He pushed her hair back. “Closes seem to be your strength.”
“I work hard on them. In fact, I build the case around them. A lot of people think the opening’s most important, but to me it’s setting the stage.”
“You build around the close?”
“Sure. I figure out where I want the case to end up — what I need to tell the jury in the close — then I build the case, piece by piece to lead to that close.”
“No wonder this has been hard for you.”
She fought the automatic stiffening against anything like sympathy. “What do you mean?”
“It’s open-ended. No sure answers. Putting pieces together with no idea of where it’s leading. It’s not the way you work.”
“You sound like Belichek and Landis. The detectives I told you about.” She rolled her head toward him. “Why didn’t you go into law enforcement? Lots of ex-military do.”
“Thought about it. But I could catch the killer without being a cop. I couldn’t prosecute him without being a lawyer.”
“Prosecute?” Her laugh was dry. “You’re a defense attorney.” The only one she’d ever slept with. “Dallas is a — Okay, he’s part-time prosecutor now, but he’s been a defense attorney most of his career and you couldn’t have known he’d run for office when you…” She came onto her side, raising her head to see him better. “Are you saying you were behind Dallas running for CA? To keep pressure on about Pan’s murder?”
“What makes you think Dallas would have listened to me even if I’d tried to get him to run?”
“Because you’re persuasive.” His hand stroked up over her hip, then slowly, slowly down. “You’re very… ahhh… persuasive.”
He certainly persuaded her to do exactly what he wanted — what she wanted, too — as they came together again.
* * * *
Saturday, 8:49 a.m.
After she opened the guesthouse door with her new key, J.D. followed her to the bedroom.
“Looks like a nice bed. Cozy,” he said.
She laughed. “No. We have to get to the office. And you’re not coming in the bathroom while I get ready.”
“What’s to get ready? You already showered.” They’d done that together at his place, with a number of detours from getting clean. By the end, they were clean … and prunes.
“Just stay out here. I won’t be long.”
He wandered to the window seat, looking out at the pollen-flecked, sloped roof of the porch, across to spring green on the opposite rise.
Water turned on and off a couple times. He heard her opening and closing things. Women’s mysteries.
“J.D.?”
“Yeah?” He came back closer to the bathroom door, not quite shut, and sat on the bed.
“The first time we talked to Barry. He said something about Laurel being in a relationship and you frowned. Why?”
He took a moment, thinking, remembering. Absently, his hand stroked over the briefcase sitting on the bed. The latch was broken. From the night of the break-in?
“It was what he said she said about it. It reminded me of something Pan said, though it wasn’t the same at all once I thought about it. Pan said she’d learned a lesson about being too sure she had someone pegged. Laurel said someone she’d overlooked turned out to be useful. Besides, I figured Pan meant Wade.”
“What if she didn’t? Could Pan’s comment connect to Laurel’s other plane relationship? Could it — Leave that alone. Don’t touch it.”
His hand stil
led on the closed briefcase. “This is what was disturbed during the break-in Tuesday night.”
“Give it to me.” She crossed the room, her hair pulled back by a band, a wet washcloth in one hand.
He shifted, blocking her from the briefcase. Holding her gaze, he slowly lifted the lid.
“Don’t—” She bit it off, her face rigid.
He knew that reaction. Knew it intimately.
Whatever happened, don’t let anyone know how you felt about it. Yeah, he knew it.
He glanced into the well of the briefcase. Reports, notes, files, pads. Any one of them could — Then he saw it. Lines in the soft material of the lid pocket announcing something stayed in that spot long enough to leave the mark. He kept his gaze on her as he slid his hand in, felt the plastic protecting something else.
He drew it out. Looked down.
And took a blow to the chest.
Pan.
Looking straight at him from a wedding photo.
He fought to regulate his breathing. Heard Maggie trying to do the same.
“Why do you keep this?” As he asked it, he recognized the thickness meant this photo wasn’t alone. He reached in, freed one photo after another from the plastic protection. Eight women of different ages, races, backgrounds. Some professional portraits, some snapshots. The images and clothing getting older until he came to the last one.
He saw Maggie in the woman.
He saw the resemblance with Pan and Laurel, too.
Slowly, he looked up. “What do these mean, Maggie?”
“Give them to me,” she said coldly.
He didn’t. “What are you doing, Maggie?”
“Doing?” Her voice vibrated but didn’t break. “I’m trying to get justice for them.”
He shook his head. “These are from cases, right? The trials are over, the defendants were acquitted. It’s done. But you… You hold onto it. You keep their pictures with you. What are you doing to yourself, Maggie? What do you want of yourself?”
Proof of Innocence Page 29