Diana watched as Jack’s car mimicked her actions and moved in behind her.
“Finding a house doesn’t look too promising,” she said. “I’ve exhausted every lead from the newspaper and friends alike.”
“Grandma did say we could stay with her as long as we wanted to,” Mel said, trying to sound nonchalant, but not quite pulling it off.
Diana knew that her daughter hated the idea of moving as much as she did.
“Your grandmother loves us so much she’s willing to compromise her privacy and maybe even her chance for happiness with Ray. We have to show her how much we love her by not letting her sacrifice those things.”
“We’re not going to see Grandma nearly as much now that she’s marrying Ray,” Mel said, obviously not pleased with the fact.
“Maybe not as much, but we’ll still see her. She’s not moving away.”
“But Ray’s moving in. Everything’s going to change.”
That was true. Diana knew pretending otherwise would be foolish. Besides, she never lied to Mel.
“Everything changes, Cute Stuff. Embracing change—even when we think the change less than ideal—is the best way to handle life if we want to be happy.”
Mel thought about that a moment before glancing over at her mom and asking, “Do you suppose the universe is embracing the fact that it’s continuing to expand?”
“Only if it’s not female,” Diana said.
Mel burst forth with a happy giggle.
Ah, to be nine again and able to giggle like that! Women needed daughters if for no other reason than to help them remember those moments of delight.
“You keep glancing into the rearview mirror,” Mel said, twisting in her seat to look behind them. “Is someone following us?”
“The private investigator who’ll be working on Connie’s case. He’s driving the white Porsche back there. You’re never going to guess who he is.”
Mel squinted. “I can’t see his face, but he can’t be Richard Knight or you wouldn’t be making me guess. Who is he?”
“Remember that paper you wrote a little over a year ago where you contrasted fictional villains from the beginning of the twentieth century with their popular counterparts from the twenty-first?”
Mel nodded. “And concluded that the steady advance of a culture embracing diversity and tolerance had given birth to the creation of an increasing number of fictional villains as three-dimensional characters,” she quoted, displaying not only her perfect memory, but a mental capacity and clarity that still frequently left her mother in awe.
Diana had been startled when her daughter had started talking in complete and complex sentences at two. She was floored when she’d later learned that Mel’s IQ was in excess of one hundred and sixty.
“How does my paper on fictional villains relate to the private investigator following us?” Mel asked.
“He was one of your study subjects, your favorite one.”
Mel whirled around in her seat again. “Derek Dementer, from the soap, Seattle!” she yelled, sounding very much like an excited nine-year-old.
Diana smiled at her daughter’s exuberance.
Mel turned back to her mom, her voice still high with her discovery. “Jack Knight is a private investigator now?”
“Apparently.”
“He must be Richard Knight’s brother. Richard never said he had a brother in show business.”
Diana nodded as she took a corner. “Richard’s too much of a professional to even discuss his personal business, much less brag. If I hadn’t taped all those Seattle episodes for you, I never would have known his brother was the Jack Knight when he showed up at the firm this morning.”
“Why did he become a private investigator?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I can’t wait to meet him. Will he stay for lunch?”
Seemed even her brilliant daughter had been struck by the show business bug.
“No, Jack and I have an appointment to see Connie Pearce as soon as I drop you off. Afterward, I have a ton of work waiting for me back at the office. So, when I take you over to say hello, do me a favor and limit yourself to only one of the zillion questions I know you want to ask him.”
Diana could feel Mel’s watchful eyes. “You’re not happy that Jack is on the case?” her daughter said.
“Why do you ask?”
“You have that frown that pulls your eyebrows together,” Mel said as she demonstrated by squeezing the skin on a corresponding part of her face.
Diana put a finger between her eyebrows, making a mental note to work on that. A trial attorney had to be able to control her facial expressions.
“Connie needs the best,” she said by way of explanation. “Richard is the best.”
“But you still hired Jack?”
“White Knight Investigations has always come through for me. If Charles Knight thinks Jack can do the job, professional courtesy demands I give him a chance.”
At least that’s what she told herself. But there was a nagging suspicion at the back of Diana’s mind that her decision might also have something to do with the fact that she wasn’t as immune to Jack Knight’s thousand-watt smile as she should be.
JACK FOLLOWED DIANA into the deeply wooded countryside surrounding the city of Silver Valley, finally parking in front of a well-kept Craftsman-style home. He let the car idle as he waited, assuming they’d be leaving right away. But Diana got out of her car and started toward him with her daughter in tow.
Jack let out a frustrated exhale, turned off the engine and got out to stand beside the driver’s door.
The girl wasn’t bad looking, he supposed, if one liked kids.
Jack didn’t. They were noisy, messy and rude, had to be watched every minute, constantly demanded things and were never satisfied for more than ten seconds with whatever they got. He had no idea why anyone would want one.
Nor could he understand what made parents think that other people were interested in getting to know their kids. He’d just as soon be introduced to their pit bulls. At least they could be kept on a leash.
Yet here was Diana, like all the other proud mothers he’d met, bringing her kid over to be introduced. He didn’t need this. The last kid he’d tried to talk to had sneezed all over him and given him a cold.
He gritted his teeth and diligently tried to keep himself from flinching when this one walked right up to him.
“Hi, I’m Melissa Mason, but everybody calls me Mel. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Knight. Do you mind if I call you Jack?”
He blinked at her in surprise. This kid was articulate, polite, even had a sweet voice. He found himself smiling as he took her offered hand.
“Please do, Mel. You have very nice manners for one so young, or for one of any age for that matter.”
“Thanks, but I’m short on tact when I lose my temper. Mom says it’s a family failing.”
He looked over at Diana as Mel released his hand. “Is that a fact?”
Diana didn’t look too pleased with Mel for having shared that.
“Can I ask you something?” Mel said.
“I guess,” Jack said cautiously.
“I’ve read that one of the biggest agonies of being an actor is an endless search for identity. You portrayed a very believable villain on Seattle. Did you have difficulty keeping your identity separate from the part you played?”
Hell of a question from a kid this young. Jack gave it a moment’s thought before answering.
“When I worked hard and knew I had played the part well, I felt good about myself. I suppose the bottom line is that a strong sense of self develops from doing your best, no matter what your profession.”
She tilted her head. “That was a very interesting answer.”
“I was responding to a very interesting question,” Jack said. “How old are you?”
“I don’t like to give my chronological age,” Mel said. “It elicits a bias about what I’m like, and I’m not like that at all. Did
you know that being aware of a person’s age early on in a relationship can actually prevent people from getting to know each other?”
Jack stared at the girl for a moment before turning to address Diana. “Care to help the mentally handicapped here?”
Diana laughed. He felt his insides warm at the bold huskiness of the sound. She stepped behind her daughter, gently clasped her shoulders. “Mel celebrated her ninth birthday a few weeks ago. But she’s currently enrolled in schoolwork equivalent to the third-year college level.”
“You’re a genius,” Jack said to Mel, not attempting to hide either his surprise or fascination.
“Not in any widely agreed-upon definition of the term,” she answered very seriously. “Genius rarely, if ever, equates to superior intellectual achievement, even when that achievement is blatantly manifested. Most researchers think of it as bringing into existence something original, an inspiration beyond intelligent thinking and clever reasoning. What do you think, Jack?”
“I think I’d better wait for a brain donor before I ask you any more questions,” he said, shaking his head.
Mel giggled. “You’re funny.”
He smiled at the good-natured amusement on the girl’s face.
“You’d better go inside now, Mel,” Diana said. “We have to be on our way.”
“Can’t I go with you to see Connie?”
Diana planted a kiss on her daughter’s head. “Not without doubling your chronological age and committing a felony.”
“My psychology professor said that hearing about other people’s pain can help to make you feel better about your own,” Mel said.
“Nice try,” Diana said. “But not even close to working. Now off with you.”
“What’s causing you pain?” Jack asked Mel, curious to know, despite Diana’s obvious desire to be on her way.
“We have to move out of my grandmother’s home,” Mel said. “She’s really sweet, and she understands me, and I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember.”
“Why do you have to leave?” Jack prodded.
“She’s getting married, and her husband’s moving in with her, so Mom and I have to rent a place. There are no houses available, only yucky apartments. And Mom’s going to have to find someone to stay with me when she’s not there. Except I don’t want to be baby-sat because I’m no baby.”
“You’re certainly not,” Jack said. Although, as Mel’s far too unhappy tone had demonstrated, she was still very much a nine-year-old for all her intelligence.
When Diana had finally succeeded in shooing her daughter into the house, Jack turned to her. “You could have warned me about Mel.”
“Yeah, but this was more fun.”
For her maybe. But he didn’t mind. He’d had a chance to hear Diana laugh. That had been a nice surprise. He’d always thought that the deeper a woman’s laugh, the deeper her enjoyment of physical pleasure.
Diana’s laugh had been so deep he could still feel it vibrating along his nerve endings.
FORTY MINUTES LATER, Diana and Jack stepped through the doorway into the Silver Valley County jail. As they walked through the metal detector, Diana exchanged waves with the security guard who had the latest John Grisham thriller in his hands.
Hustling once again to keep up with her fast pace, Jack followed her into the elevator and watched her punch the button for the next floor.
“Are you as upset about having to move out of your mother’s home as Mel is?”
“Just something that has to be done,” she answered without looking at him.
Jack couldn’t tell whether he’d hit on a touchy subject or if Diana’s reluctance to talk was due to preoccupation with their upcoming interview. When the elevator doors opened, she was out in a flash.
“Hi, Diana,” the prison guard called from behind the counter.
“Hi, Fran.”
Jack looked over Diana’s shoulder as she signed in, noticing that she entered both of their names. The prison guard buzzed the door to the hallway open and gestured for Diana to go through.
But before Jack could, the guard pointed to a room behind the counter. “Step in there and take off all your clothes.”
“I beg your pardon?” Jack said.
“Body search,” Fran explained curtly, hands on her sturdy hips, fingers twitching toward the gun in her holster. “Got to make sure you’re not taking anything prohibited to the prisoner.”
He stared at the serious look on the prison guard’s face in growing unease.
“Nice try, Fran,” Diana said, “but Mr. Knight’s part of the law firm’s defense team and not subject to search.”
The female guard looked Jack up and down and let out a disappointed sigh. “Rats.”
“Thanks,” he whispered on an exhale of relief as they walked down the hall.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she headed directly for a room at the end. She opened the door and gestured for him to step inside. She apparently wasn’t the type who waited for men to hold doors open for her.
Jack liked that. He stepped past her into a windowless, eight-by-ten foot room with a Formica table, four scratched metal chairs and an overhead fluorescent light that flickered.
“They’ll bring Connie in to meet with us soon,” Diana said as she closed the door then and took a seat at the table. “Before she gets here, I need to fill you in on a few things.”
He sat across from her and waited. She looped the strap of her shoulder bag over the back of her chair as she began.
“Connie is unnaturally shy. I want her to tell you her story because the emotional impact comes through so much clearer in her words. But she might not talk to you. She offered nothing but minimal information to me at first. It wasn’t until I learned she’d lost a daughter that I thought of approaching her another way.”
“When you say lost, do you mean the girl died?” Jack asked.
Diana nodded. “Had she lived, her daughter would have been around Mel’s age now. I got the idea that Connie might find talking to another mother easier than she would to an attorney. So, on my next visit I stopped asking questions and started telling her about the challenges facing me as a single mom. When she seemed interested, I knew I was making progress and showed her a picture of Mel.”
Pausing for a moment, Diana gave her shoulders a little roll as though trying to shake off a sudden tightness. “Connie took one look at Mel’s picture and cried. Then she told me about Amy.”
“Amy is the daughter she lost,” Jack guessed. “How long ago did—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The door opened and a guard brought in Connie Pearce, murderess. She walked into the room slowly, as if she was unsure of each step. The instant she saw Jack, she flinched and took a step backward.
Connie not only didn’t look like she could run down a man with a car. She didn’t look like she could chase down a fly with a swatter.
This case got more baffling by the minute. Jack decided right then that he was not going to leave the room until he had heard this woman’s story.
WHEN DIANA SAW Connie’s reaction to Jack, she was certain her client was never going to talk to him. But before she could ask Jack to wait outside, he stepped forward, took Connie’s hand and smiled into her startled face.
“I’m Jack Knight, Connie. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
His voice sounded very gentle and sincere. Connie’s retreat halted.
When Fran seemed ready to take exception to Jack’s physical contact with the prisoner, Diana shook her head. Diana and Fran had known each other a long time. The guard trusted her. Fran nodded and quietly left the room.
“You look…familiar,” Connie said as she stared up at Jack, a small frown forming.
“Do I?” he asked as he held her hand within his open palm. Smiling one of those devastating smiles of his, he said, “Maybe you recognize me from TV. The soap Seattle?”
Connie’s mouth opened in astonishment. “You’re D
erek Dementer! But I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”
“Diana tells me you’re in trouble. I’ve come to help.”
Keeping her hand within his own, Jack led Connie to the table, held out a chair for her. His facial expression, physical attention and voice all radiated warmth.
He sat facing her, knee-to-knee. “Being an actor was fun for me. But I’d much rather rescue a lady in distress than be the villain causing her distress.”
Damn if he didn’t sound like he meant every word he was saying, too.
“You really think you can help me?” Connie asked, still obviously finding this too good to be true.
“I know I can help you,” he said with the kind of confidence that brooked no argument. “But first, I need to understand everything that happened. Will you help me?”
For the first time since she’d met Connie, Diana saw her client smile. Jack’s constant attention was telling Connie that she alone existed for him. A normal man showing a woman that kind of attention would be hard to refuse. When a charismatic man like Jack turned it on, what chance did a woman have?
“What do you want me to do?” Connie asked.
“Tell me about Amy,” he said.
Connie sigh was soft and sad. “Oh.”
“I know talking about her is very difficult,” Jack said, his voice tender. “But will you try for me?”
Connie nodded. “Okay.”
Diana let out a relieved breath. He had accomplished in a couple of minutes what had taken her two weeks. The lawyer in her was impressed, but the woman in her was more than a little annoyed.
Connie inhaled deeply before she began.
Diana knew the story. She focused her attention on Jack, trying to imagine what he would think and feel when he heard it. Was he merely a handsome actor with all the right words at his command? Or was there some substance behind that charm?
CONNIE STRUCK Jack as so childlike and vulnerable that he had a hard time remembering that she was in her late twenties.
“I fell in love with Jimmy when we were seniors in high school,” Connie began. “He said he wanted us to get married. But when I told him I was pregnant a couple of months before graduation, he got upset. The day after graduation, he disappeared. I knew then that I’d have to raise my baby by myself.”
For the Defense Page 3