Amanda frowned, trying to remember the parade of visitors to her hospital room. And all the flowers, and...
“Yes!” she cried. “I remember that now. Uncle John sent me flowers and he called me from Paris, and he brought me a box of French chocolates when he came back. I was home by then.”
Jesse nodded. “We both pigged out on them. I get them from the same shop every time I go over there.”
Amanda smiled, remembering. The box had been huge—at least two or three pounds—and they’d both made themselves sick over them. Jesse had scarcely left her bedside during those weeks of recovery. Whatever else might have been going on in her life then, she’d been a good sister.
“SO NOW WE KNOW that neither John nor Jesse could have been involved—that is, if you still believe that it happened the night of my accident”
Michael glanced at her briefly as he started the car. “I don’t know that it did—and I’m not convinced that Jesse doesn’t know something she isn’t telling us.”
“You’re wrong, Michael! I’d swear that she didn’t recognize Eve’s name—and she admitted that she might have seen her around.”
“Yeah, probably at our missing madam’s house while she was getting drugs.”
Amanda sighed. “Yes, that’s possible. But why would she lie about it? She knows that we know she was doing drugs then.”
“Maybe she wants to protect the woman, too,” Michael said after a few moments. “Whoever she is, people seem to want to keep me from finding her.”
Amanda thought about that. “Tina said that she’s done good things—or something like that, anyway.”
“Yeah. That’s what she told me, too. Has Jesse been involved in any civic things?”
“She’s on a committee of business people who help support the youth center in the Bottom. Or she was, at any rate. I’m not sure how active she’s been. Why?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I wonder why Jesse would still be trying to protect the woman’s identity. But if she’s run into her recently—if she knows that woman is doing good things...”
Amanda stared at him. “You mean that you think this woman could be involved in community affairs?”
“That’s doing good things, isn’t it? But it could be any one of a number of people. There’s a lot of community activism down there now.”
Amanda nodded. She’d served on various committees and panels with many of them. Even before Lewis Brogan retired, he’d often sent her to such meetings and panels in his place. He’d made no secret of the fact that he wanted her to be his successor and had wanted her to get the exposure.
“Michael, if it is someone who’s active in the community, you’ll have to be very careful. Those are groups that are trying hard to gain credibility at city hall, and accusing one of them of having been involved in prostitution or drugs—even years ago—could be devastating.”
“Spoken like a true politician,” he said with a smile.
She bristled. “If you think you can stay completely out of politics, even in your position, you’re mistaken.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“No, I don’t think you are—or if you are, then you don’t care. The city’s finances are finally in good shape again, and those groups are trying to get funding for a number of projects. Neal Hadden and his allies are already saying that it would be throwing good money after bad.
“He’s just put out a position paper stating that any surplus funds in the city treasury should be spent on law enforcement, not on what he calls ‘feel-good’ programs.”
“Good for him. We could use some more cops and new computers.”
“Have you managed to forget where you came from?” she demanded angrily. “The city has ignored the Bottom for far too long as it is.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t say something like that in public. Some people might get the idea that you’re not tough enough for the job.”
“I’m already working on a response, saying that studies have proved that the kind of programs the activists want can keep kids out of trouble. I’m really tired of all this emphasis on dealing with them after the fact—when it’s too late.”
Michael chuckled and reached over to grasp her hand, holding on when she tried to pull it away. “Okay, okay. I was just yanking your chain. I happen to agree with you.”
“Do you?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yeah. I’m not overly fond of seeing little kids get killed in drive-by shootings. It wouldn’t bother me at all to see my caseload lighten up a bit.
“Police work is changing, you know, and cops’ attitudes are, too. We know the value of prevention. In fact, I don’t think anyone knows that better than a cop, because we’re the ones who are left to clean up the mess—along with you, of course.”
He squeezed her hand, then let it go to downshift as they turned into the parking lot of her condo complex. “Just be careful that you don’t come off sounding too squishy. Hadden’ ll jump on that.”
“Let him. If I can’t get elected as the person I am, then I don’t want the job.”
“Yes, you do. And you know you’ll do it better than he could.”
“Are you coming in?” she asked.
Michael shook his head. “Not tonight, love. I’ve got some thinking to do—and I don’t do that very well when I’m with you.”
They both looked around the dark, deserted lot, then moved together, embracing awkwardly in the confines of the Porsche. Michael kissed her very thoroughly, then reached past her and opened the door.
“Out. You’re still messing with my head.”
HER BED ALWAYS FELT lonely now when Michael wasn’t there. It amazed her to think that she could have changed so much so quickly. What were they going to do? Was it really fair to those who had to decide if she should keep her job to conceal their relationship? But if they were open about it, Neal Hadden would destroy her chance of being elected. Even if people didn’t really care, he would convince them that they should.
She tossed and turned, her thoughts veering from Michael to the question of Eve Lauden’s killer. The key now seemed to be the woman that Tina and possibly Jesse wanted to protect. If Michael started to ask too many questions, he could cause problems for the activists in the Bottom. But she might be able to make some discreet inquiries. There was one woman she’d gotten to know quite well from various committees. She’d grown up in the Bottom and still lived there, and she was old enough to know what had been going on twenty years ago.
Amanda drifted off to sleep, thinking that Michael would not be happy if she continued to involve herself in this investigation. But then, he didn’t have to know, did he?
Chapter Ten
Mary Walters was a remarkable woman. She was in her fifties—perhaps even her sixties—but she seemed to Amanda to vibrate with energy. It was she who had organized the community activists. Amanda both liked and admired her.
She knew something of Mary’s background: born into dire poverty, abandoned by a husband when she had three small children, whom she then struggled to support by working for various families on the Hill, one of whom had been Amanda’s neighbor, the longtime mayor.
Then, once her children were grown and educated, she’d turned her attention to community activism, and somewhere along the line had managed to get a college degree, as well.
When Amanda entered the restaurant, Mary waved to her from a corner table, and for just a moment, Amanda wondered if she might be presuming upon her relationship with this woman. She trusted Mary to keep confidences, but would Mary be willing to help her—especially if she actually knew the woman Amanda was seeking?
As soon as they had ordered, Mary plunged into a discussion about the arrest of the drive-by killer, and how proud she was that two witnesses had now come forward to confirm what the driver of the car had already told the police.
“Did you have anything to do with their coming forward?” Amanda asked, suspecting that she might have.
Mary chuckl
ed. “Let’s just say that sometimes people need a little push to do their civic duty.”
“Are they worried about reprisals?” Amanda asked.
“They’d be fools if they aren’t, but I think they’ll be okay. I understand that a certain police lieutenant paid Kevin Weems’s friends a visit and told them that if anything happened to the witnesses, he was going to take it very personally.”
“I don’t think I want to hear about it,” Amanda said with a smile.
“Did I give you a name? There must be lots of lieutenants on the police force.” She paused and narrowed her eyes. “Now don’t get on your high horse, Amanda. The man I’m talking about knows just how far he can go.”
“I hope so. And speaking of this unnamed lieutenant, has he approached you recently about that body that was discovered out on the island?”
“No.” Mary frowned. “Why would he?”
“She’s been tentatively identified—this is confidential, by the way. It’s police business, of course, and I shouldn’t be involved at this point. But from the moment they found her out there, this has felt...personal to me, because of the island.”
Mary nodded. “I can understand that. I know how you love that place. So who do they think she is?”
“A girl named Eve Lauden. If the forensics people are right, she died about twenty years ago—in the early spring. She would have been seventeen at the time.”
“Eve Lauden?” Mary frowned. “You know, I think I remember her. At least I remember a family of Laudens, and there was a girl who would have been about that age. What did she look like—do you know?”
Amanda took the photo from her purse and handed it over. She’d gotten it the same way Michael had: from a yearbook at the high school Eve had attended.
“Yes, that’s her,” Mary said, nodding. “I seem to remember that she quit school and took off for the city. Or at least that was the story at the time. And I doubt if her mother did much to find her.”
“Why not?”
Mary sighed heavily. “Eve was a bad one—not that her mother was much better. And anyway, the police never paid much attention to teenage runaways from the Bottom. That’s why I fought so hard to open the center and the shelter.”
Mary operated a teen center and shelter at the Bottom. Both she and her assistant, Elaine Barker, had served as surrogate mothers to a lot of troubled kids.
“Why do you say she was a bad one?” Amanda asked, though she already knew the answer.
“If I remember correctly, she was into drugs and she was probably also hooking. Most of the druggies did—the girls, anyway. Thanks to Elaine’s outreach, there are fewer of them now.”
Amanda nodded. “That’s what I’d heard, but I wanted to confirm it. What I was also told was that there was this woman operating in Parkside, acting as a madam and also selling drugs to middle-class types. I was told that Eve worked for her.” Amanda paused. “And what I need is her name.”
“I can’t help you there. There were some stories, but I never knew who it was.”
“Do you know anyone who might know?” Amanda asked, disappointed. “What about Elaine? Would she know?”
“I doubt it, but I’ll ask her if you like.”
“I’d appreciate it—or any other help you can give me.”
“Is Michael Quinn working this case?” Mary asked.
“Yes. He’ll probably be coming to see you himself.”
IT WAS ONLY LATER, when Amanda was on her way back to her office, that she began to wonder if Mary had told her the truth. Was it only her imagination, or had Mary seemed distracted after she’d asked for the name of the woman?
Amanda was certainly no conspiracy theorist, but she couldn’t help wondering if there was, in fact, a conspiracy to keep the identity of the woman secret. And if so, what did that mean? Didn’t it seem to confirm what Tina had told her: that the woman could be someone who’d since earned the respect of the community?
Then she began to ask herself why she was pursuing this. As she’d told Mary, Michael would soon be asking her the same questions. Could she actually be engaged in some sort of competition with Michael?
That thought unsettled her, to say the least. But it also raised still more questions about her tangled relationship with him. She loved him, but did she completely trust him? Surely if she did, she’d be content to let him handle the investigation.
Or maybe she was being driven simply by her own curiosity—a curiosity that stemmed not only from the fact that Eve Lauden had died on the island, but also from the possibility that her own accident, and Trish’s death, was somehow caught up in this.
AMANDA FELT ILL PREPARED for this important case. Her chief assistant had been handling it, and when it had suddenly mushroomed into something even bigger, she’d been reluctant to take it away from Ted. Her relationship with him had been prickly ever since she’d been named acting D.A. Ted felt, and with some justification, that he should have gotten the top position.
Most trial work was done by the assistant D.A.’s, acting in consultation with Amanda. Historically, the D.A. himself or herself handled only the big cases. But since this one hadn’t seemed to fit that category at the time, Ted had gotten it. Then, thanks to the work done by Michael’s unit, it had suddenly ballooned into the biggest armed-robbery case in years: a ring of clever crooks who had operated with inside information to rob various warehouses in the city.
Two days ago, after the first day of trial, Ted had been involved in an auto accident that left him hospitalized with serious, though thankfully not life-threatening, injuries. The trial judge, who was politically aligned with Neal Hadden, had granted only a one-day delay. When Amanda had protested, the judge had said that he assumed she was on top of the work being done by her office and should certainly be able to step in.
It was politics, pure and simple. Even the defense attorney, who’d argued strenuously for the trial to continue, was a political ally of Neal’s. There was considerable media interest in the trial, and she knew that both the judge and the defense attorney—and Neal himself—were hoping that she’d make some mistakes that would prove her lack of fitness for the job.
The truth was, unfortunately, that she had no one but herself to blame for the fact that she wasn’t prepared. She hadn’t wanted to further strain her relationship with Ted by looking over his shoulder as he prepared his case. She might have done that anyway if she hadn’t respected Ted’s abilities. But as it was, she’d been forced to spend most of the past day and night trying to prepare herself, all without Ted’s help, since he was too heavily sedated to discuss it with her.
The judge was too concerned with his own reputation to be blatant about his antagonism toward her, but judges have a lot of leeway, and he was denying all her objections that he possibly could, while sustaining those of her opponent, who himself was taking every opportunity to try to make her look incompetent.
If she could just get through this day without any glaring or irrevocable errors, she told herself, Ted would surely be able to give her some assistance from his hospital bed. The nurse had told her that they would be cutting back on the painkillers that had rendered him useless to her.
But as she stood before the bench, arguing yet another point, Amanda was very much aware of the representatives of the media who had claimed the front row of seats directly behind her desk. Still, when she turned away from the bench, trying to contain her irritation, it wasn’t the media she saw, but the man who was now leaning casually against the rear wall of the courtroom.
She hadn’t seen or talked to Michael for three days. He’d called and left messages, and she’d left some for him, but that was all. Her first thought, upon seeing him there, was that she wanted him to be anywhere else but here. Or at least that was what her brain was telling her; her body told her something very different.
The trial dragged on through a series of minor witnesses. Amanda was walking a very fine line—delaying the course of her case to the extent she dared
, so that she could have the benefit of Ted’s help by the time she got to the important witnesses.
“Those are all the questions I have for now. Your turn, Counselor,” she said with a polite nod toward her opponent.
Then, when she turned to go back to the prosecution’s table, she saw that not only was Michael still there, but he’d been joined by Steve. The two men had their heads bent to each other as they talked, and as she watched, they both left the courtroom.
It hadn’t occurred to her to question why Michael was there. She assumed it was because his unit had handled the case. But now, with Steve’s appearance and their joint departure, her mind went, for the first time in several days, to the Eve Lauden case.
Steve’s unusual appearance forced her to focus on Jesse. Had something happened to her? She hadn’t spoken to her sister since five nights ago, when she and Michael had talked to her together.
Amanda had to struggle hard to keep her attention focused on the trial. Her fears for Jesse escalated. What if she’d gone out drinking—and hadn’t returned? Amanda knew that even if Jesse hadn’t been involved in any way in Eve Lauden’s death, she could still be beset by memories of her own behavior at that time: memories that were surely difficult for her to deal with in her present fragile state.
She glanced discreetly at her watch, hoping that the judge would call an early noon recess at the end of her opponent’s cross-examination. She’d intended to return to her office and study the statements of the afternoon’s witnesses, but now she wanted only to satisfy herself that nothing had happened to Jesse.
After she declined an opportunity for redirect, the judge looked at her, clearly expecting her to proceed. Cursing silently, Amanda called her next witness: one she’d hoped not to have to deal with until after the lunch recess.
By the time she got through that, and through the defense counsel’s lengthy cross-examination, Amanda was sure that something had happened to Jesse. When the judge finally called for an hour’s recess, she knew better than to request some additional time. Instead, she dug her cellular phone out of her briefcase and began to dial the number for Jesse’s store.
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