“It’s not a question of—” she began.
“Are you hiding something, Judge Weaton? Is that why you won’t cooperate?”
The woman glared at Bob, fully aware that was one of those loaded accusations for which the wrong response could haunt her the rest of her career. To her credit, she reined in her anger instantly. Her next words were delivered with the kind of even tone that reflected the control Diana had seen Barbara Weaton display on the bench.
“My family and I will be happy to talk to Ms. Mason. All she has to do is contact us.” The judge had delivered that message as though Diana had been the one remiss in calling. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am expected inside.”
Diana flipped off the TV with a satisfied smile. She had the home number of Lyle and Audrey Weaton. Right after breakfast she’d call them and set up their depositions. Her first call Monday morning would be to the judge.
Of course, she was going to be in serious trouble when next she appeared in Barbara Weaton’s court. But that had been inevitable the moment Connie became her client.
Exposing Bruce Weaton as a criminal wasn’t going to ingratiate Diana to the judge. Nor was she making points with Ronald Kozen every time she sidestepped his questions about her defense strategy.
Gail had warned her from the start that this was a case no defense attorney could come out of looking good. Her friend had been right. Even if Diana won the case her career could be over.
Rubbing tired eyes, she tried to look on the bright side of the insomnia that had been plaguing her for days. The extra hours awake were helping her to get the painting and packing done for the move into the new place.
The real problem was the reason she wasn’t sleeping well.
She shouldn’t have kissed Jack. He’d given her time to back off. But she’d wanted that kiss. And it had been everything she wanted—and more. She hadn’t felt so excited by a man since…hell, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so excited by a man.
But Jack had disappeared afterward.
Diana figured he’d finally remembered all those very good reasons why they shouldn’t be pursuing a personal relationship. Time she remembered them, too.
AS JACK WAITED in the hospital emergency room for Dr. Cummings to come on duty, his thoughts kept turning to Diana. He’d left the wedding reception the day before because he hadn’t known what to say to her after that kiss.
The women he dated were simply out for a good time. Showing Diana the very best time she’d ever had was something he most definitely wanted to do. But he understood what she’d meant when she said she wasn’t going to become one of his women.
She didn’t take relationships lightly. And he wasn’t a man who would take them any other way. Nor was he going to pretend to be.
Pretense was fine in front of a camera or in the performance of his private investigation duties. But he didn’t indulge in it in his personal life. People got hurt that way.
Mel was right. If he cared for Diana, he’d leave her alone.
Jack was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he almost missed seeing the doctor rushing out of the physicians’ lounge. The man charged up to the closed elevator, stabbed the down button repeatedly. Jack caught up with him there, gave the man his name and a picture to identify.
“Bruce Weaton,” the doctor said, handing the photo back to Jack. “Yeah, I remember him. A schoolteacher killed him last year. Who did you say you were?”
Jack produced a business card.
“A private investigator.” The doctor returned the card and stabbed the elevator button once again. “Medical records are confidential, Mr. Knight. I can’t talk to you.”
“The man’s dead. What are you afraid of, Dr. Cummings?”
The elevator bell binged. “My shift has started. You’ll excuse me.”
As soon as the doors opened, the doctor stepped inside.
“Been paid off?” Jack called after him.
Cummings sent Jack a look as sharp as a scalpel. “Do I have to call security and have you thrown out?”
Jack gave Cummings the same kind of ruthless stare that had made his TV character one of the most effective villains. “Withholding medical information that relates to a crime is a punishable offense, Doctor. You willing to lose your license?”
The man charged out of the elevator, red blotches staining his hollow cheeks. “I wasn’t even on duty the day he was killed. Check the record.”
“I have. You treated Bruce Weaton on a Fourth of July weekend nearly five years ago when he was brought in with a head wound sustained in a motor vehicle accident. His blood alcohol level came back from the lab at point two five. That’s way over the legal limit. Yet you made no report to the sheriff’s office.”
“I did report it, and the time before. Just because he—”
The doctor stopped, appalled at his outburst.
“Just because he what?” Jack prodded.
The man’s lips tightened into a thin white line.
“Look, Doctor. Either you violated the law or the deputy who you gave your report to violated it. Do you want to tell me the truth, or would you rather wait until you and your records are subpoenaed?”
DIANA HURRIED to the courthouse annex early Monday morning for Lyle Weaton’s deposition. Lyle was already seated in the interview room when she pushed open the door five minutes after the hour. He looked pointedly at his watch. She apologized.
Although Diana had only seen a picture of Bruce, she recognized the family resemblance in his younger brother’s large physique and dark coloring. As the court reporter went about swearing Lyle in, he barely paid attention, instead gazing out the window at the gray day. He agreed to tell the truth in a monotone of indifference.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Weaton,” Diana began.
He reacted to the pleasant smile she sent him by studying her like she’d offered him something he’d consider. She stopped smiling.
“Please tell me what happened on July 27 of last year.”
He wrapped his arm over the back of the chair, spread his legs, looked at her with an arrogance she found annoying. “Why don’t you read the sheriff’s report?”
“The court reporter and I are ready whenever you are,” she said pleasantly, ignoring his question and smug tone.
Lyle eyed her for a moment. She lifted her chin and stared right back. His mother had made a promise that her family would cooperate. Lyle had tried to get out of honoring that promise by insisting his schedule for the next three weeks was so tight that he could only meet with Diana at six this morning. When she’d agreed, he hadn’t been pleased. This glare game wasn’t going to work either.
He finally gave up, his gaze wandering out the window again as he began to describe the family barbecue at his brother’s. His wife was in the kitchen with their youngest boy preparing salads and drinks. He and Bruce were with their father outside on the patio getting the steaks on the grill. Lyle’s seven-year-old son was playing catch with Connie.
“What time was this?” Diana asked.
“Little after noon.”
Lyle was at the grill when he heard his son tell Connie that he wanted to show her the new bike Bruce had bought him. She took the boy’s hand and they went into the garage.
“Next thing I know she comes running out of the garage, jumps into her car and hauls out of there.”
“Did she say anything?” Diana asked.
“No. Bruce kept shouting at her to tell him what was wrong, but she ignored him. She backed her car into the street, and Bruce ran in front of the car, waving his hands. She gunned the engine and hit him dead-on.”
Lyle’s description of what happened differed in substantial ways from Mrs. Lewandowski’s version. For one, Mrs. Lewandowski said the car was already moving when Bruce ran in front of it. She also said that the car had swerved.
Diana knew now was not the time to cross-examine Lyle on the differences. That would come when Diana got him on the witness stand and pointed the disc
repancies out in front of a jury.
“What happened next?” Diana asked.
“My father hightailed it into the house yelling that he’d call 911. I ran across the street to Bruce. He wasn’t moving. I felt for a pulse in his neck, couldn’t find one.”
“What about the car that hit him?”
“What about it?”
“Where was the car while you were with Bruce?”
“Couple feet away.”
“Was the engine still running?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t hear it?”
Annoyance peppered his tone. “I was concentrating on my dying brother.”
Even so, Lyle had witnessed Connie hit his brother with her car and he went in front of that car without first checking to be sure the engine was off and the keys were out of the driver’s hands.
That told Diana one thing very clearly. Lyle hadn’t feared that Connie was going to hit him.
“Please describe what happened next,” she said.
“My mother arrived, ran over to Bruce and me. I told her how he’d been hit and that my father was calling 911. She knelt down, talked to him, tried to get him to respond. He didn’t.”
“And then?” Diana prompted when he stopped.
“My wife came out the front door and yelled that my father had collapsed and she needed help. My mother told me to go, said she would stay with Bruce. I grabbed my son and followed my wife back into the house.”
“Mr. Weaton, where was your son when you grabbed him?”
Lyle leaned toward her. “He’d come out of the garage to see what was going on, and I had to tell him. For a week afterward, he woke up with nightmares. You leave him out of this. Do you hear me?”
“Mr. Weaton, I’m a parent as well, with an appreciation for the trauma an incident like this can cause a child. I’ve read the statement your son gave to the sheriff’s office. Since he was in the garage at the time Bruce was struck by the car, I have no intention of questioning him. Now, could we please continue?”
Lyle squirmed about in his chair for the next minute, as though he couldn’t quite get comfortable. Diana waited patiently for him to get himself back under control.
“What happened when you went inside Bruce’s house?” Diana asked after what she deemed to be an appropriate interval.
“When I entered the kitchen with my son, I found my father on the floor, barely breathing. I did what I could, but he died on the way to the hospital.”
“From what, Mr. Weaton?”
Anger scored deep lines around Lyle’s mouth. “From the shock of seeing my brother murdered right before his eyes.”
Diana knew she was going to have to get a copy of Philip Weaton’s medical records. If Lyle repeated those words while on the stand—and she was sure Staker would see he did—the jury would be trying Connie for two deaths.
“Mr. Weaton, are you acquainted with the woman who lives in the home across from the one your brother owned?”
“I’ve seen her a few times.”
“Have you had occasion to speak with her?”
Lyle shook his head. “Bruce talked my older boy into weeding her front yard. Place was getting to look like a trailer park. Embarrassed the hell out of Bruce to have to live across the street from that old woman’s mess.”
Apparently Bruce wasn’t the kind neighbor Mrs. Lewandowski had taken him to be. His motives had been selfish. Diana was going to make sure that Lyle repeated his last comments in front of the jury.
“Mr. Weaton, did it surprise you when the red lace panties belonging to Tina Uttley were found on the dashboard of your brother’s car?”
He shrugged. “My brother was a player.”
“Meaning?”
“He slept around.”
“What was his relationship with Connie?”
“She was nothing but one of his broads.”
Either Lyle didn’t know about Bruce’s true relationship with Connie or he was lying.
“Did your brother generally invite his female partners to family barbecues?” she asked, careful to keep her tone even.
“Sometimes.”
Diana felt certain he was lying now. “What are the names of some of the other female partners who attended a family gathering where you were present?”
“He went through them so fast I never bothered keeping track of their names.”
“How fast was that?”
“None of them lasted more than a few weeks.”
“How many weeks had he been seeing Connie?”
“A few.”
“So you don’t know for certain?”
“I wasn’t my brother’s keeper.”
Wrong guy to be quoting from the Bible if one wanted to be believed.
“How long had your brother been seeing Tina Uttley?” Diana asked.
Lyle first crossed then uncrossed his legs before answering. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“She’s your employee. You haven’t asked her?”
“I don’t get personal with my employees.”
According to Tina Uttley, that was a whopping lie.
Diana felt certain that this guy had told her quite a few this morning.
DIANA WAS BACK in her office, busily filling in Vincent’s ridiculously complicated billable-hour time sheet when Kelli buzzed to say that Jack had left a message on their voice mail. Her stomach gave an excited flutter as she reached for her phone. Punching in his cell number, she was uncomfortably aware she’d memorized that number the moment he’d given it to her.
“I’ve learned some things you need to know,” he said as soon as she had identified herself. “I’ll be by in five minutes.”
His tone was strictly business. She told herself she was relieved.
“I have a luncheon date with a co-worker in about an hour.”
“This is important, Diana.”
“All, right, I’ll reschedule. But I’d rather we not discuss the case here. That could be…unsafe.”
There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the line. “I’ll pick you up out front.”
Diana hung up the phone and gathered her papers, shoving them into her briefcase. She hadn’t been looking forward to lunch with Gail anyway.
The thought of talking to Ronald about Gail’s clandestine relationship with Staker crossed her mind. But she’d decided that would be wrong. There was no proof that Gail was leaking information to her lover.
A person was innocent unless proven guilty. So far, all Gail was guilty of was hiding a romantic relationship with Staker. And incredibly bad taste in men.
She had decided to ask Gail for the truth today. But her friend’s door had been closed when she arrived at the office. That door was still closed as Diana walked by now. She stopped at Kelli’s desk and asked her to tell Gail that she’d had to go out and couldn’t make lunch.
“Ms. Loftin didn’t come in today,” Kelli said. “Her mother died. Sorry, she told me to tell you but I forgot.”
Shock and sadness hit Diana with a one-two punch. “Did Gail say how it happened?”
“A stroke. In her sleep. Apparently there was no warning.”
A blessing it was quick. A curse there was no time to say goodbye.
“Her mother lived in Eastern Washington,” Diana said. “Is Gail going there?”
Kelli shrugged. “She only told me that she wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week and to be sure Ronald knew. And to tell you.”
“Kelli, would you get her on the phone for me now?”
The receptionist punched in Gail’s home number and handed over the receiver. Diana held the phone to her ear through seven rings before she returned the receiver to the receptionist. “No answer. I hope to hell she doesn’t have to go through this alone.”
“Do you have a key to Ms. Loftin’s office?”
Diana sensed Kelli’s discomfort at her show of emotion and accepted the change of subject. “No, why do you ask?”
“I thought I�
��d take the chance to replenish her supplies. Every time I try to, she’s either on the phone or her door’s locked.”
“We’re all supposed to keep our offices locked.”
“But no one else is as paranoid about it. She locks hers even when she’s going to a meeting in the conference room.”
That was true. Diana had even watched her do it. Was Gail simply being cautious? Or was she hiding something?
Damn, she didn’t want to be suspicious of her friend. Especially not now.
“Don’t worry about replenishing her supplies,” Diana said. “It’s not like she’ll be needing anything until she returns. You can catch her then.”
Kelli frowned, looked down at her hands. “I tried to bring stuff in when she was on the phone one day, and she cuffed the receiver and told me to get out of her office.”
That didn’t sound like the Gail Diana knew.
She was beginning to wonder if she knew her friend at all.
“YOU WANTED TO TELL ME something?” Diana prompted after she and Jack had been driving around for a couple of minutes in silence.
“Some things about Bruce you should find interesting,” Jack said.
Actually, he wanted to talk about the kiss first. But finding the right words was difficult. He couldn’t remember feeling this tongue-tied since very early adolescence.
“I caught your TV interview,” Jack said, picking a more neutral subject. “And Judge Weaton’s response. Your strategy worked well.”
“I took Lyle Weaton’s deposition this morning,” she said. “I’ll send you a copy.”
She paused to turn toward him. “Before we get into the case, I’d like to clear the air. Things got a little out of hand the other day. What do you say we put the kiss behind us and get things back on a business basis?”
The fact that she had taken the initiative was so much better than if the suggestion had come from him. For the first time since Jack had picked her up, his hands relaxed on the wheel.
“If you think that best, Diana,” he said soberly.
She surprised him by laughing. “Your attempt not to sound relieved isn’t working.”
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