Lawman Lover

by Saranne Dawson

  They had reached the edge of the woods and the still dark house loomed up ahead of them, a dark bulk in the light of a nearly full moon. They walked up onto the porch, and Michael rapped loudly on the door, shouting Jesse’s name and announcing their presence.

  Amanda was numb by now, her mind’s way of preparing her for what she was sure they’d find. Michael called out again, then reached for the doorknob. Amanda started to dig into her purse for her keys, then saw Michael pull them from his pocket. He’d taken them from her to unlock the garage back at the marina.

  He inserted the key and turned it, then frowned and turned it again. She heard herself telling him that sometimes the lock was stiff.

  “It must have been unlocked,” was his reply as he pushed the door open.

  They both stopped in the foyer, listening. The only sound was the faint creaking of the big old porch swing as it moved in the breeze. Her hand went automatically to the light switch on the wall near the door. Then she blinked at the sudden wash of light. Michael glanced into the living room and dining room, then headed back toward the kitchen. Her feet felt leaden, but she followed him.

  In the kitchen, they found a half-empty coffee mug on the table and some dirty dishes in the sink. She remained just inside the kitchen door while Michael went over to the sink, picked out two glasses and sniffed at them before putting them back.

  “No booze,” he said, his voice seeming very loud in the silence. “Where do you keep it?”

  “In a cupboard in the dining room.” She started in that direction, and he trailed along behind her.

  Amanda opened the cupboard, then turned back to Michael with a frown. “Jesse drinks Scotch, but the bottle hasn’t been opened.” She knew that there hadn’t been an open bottle because she’d checked the supplies the last time she’d been out here.

  “Maybe she brought it with her,” she said, as much to herself as to Michael.

  “She wouldn’t be likely to do that if she knew there’d be some here,” he suggested.

  They returned to the foyer and both of them stared up at the darkened staircase. Amanda flipped the switch that turned on the upstairs-hallway light. Michael turned to her and gripped both her arms.

  “Why don’t you wait here while I go upstairs? Which room is hers?”

  She wanted to do as he asked, but she shook her head and started up the stairs, her brain tormenting her with the images. She told herself that she’d already imagined the worst.

  Jesse’s room was directly across from hers, a large, pleasant room that had seen almost no use in recent years. The door stood open, but so did the others. Michael was behind her now, and a part of her was glad, finally, for his presence. All the resentment she’d felt of his intrusion into her family was gone, as though it had never existed.

  I really do love him, she thought, wondering why it had taken something like this to make her understand that.

  Jesse’s room was empty. Some clothes had been tossed onto a chair, and the bed was unmade. A faint aroma of Private Collection, Jesse’s favorite scent, lingered in the room.

  Michael had moved on to the small adjoining bathroom. He returned before she could follow him, shaking his head in response to her unasked question.

  They checked the other bedrooms, and Michael even went down to the basement. Jesse was nowhere to be found. Amanda was beginning to pull back from her darkest fears. But where could she be?

  “Could she have gone to one of the other cottages?” Michael asked. “You said you have keys to all of them.”

  “I can’t imagine why she’d do that,” Amanda replied, but she was already heading toward her father’s small study. The keys were kept in a desk drawer. Michael had checked the study before they went upstairs.

  She opened the drawer and held up the keys, then put them back. Michael was frowning in thought. “What about the tree house? Would she go there?”

  Amanda shook her head slowly. “I’m sure she hasn’t been up there since we were kids. She wasn’t even all that interested in it then.”

  “I thought you told me that your father had it rebuilt after Jesse fell and broke her ankle.”

  She was startled for a moment, unable to recall having told him about that. Had she also told him that she’d played regularly in it, but that their father had had it rebuilt only after his precious Jesse had been injured?

  “That’s true, but she never used it much after that.”

  “I think we’d better check it,” Michael said.

  He began to shout her name again as they made their way up to the tree house, which sat on slightly higher ground than the house itself. But by the time they reached it, there was still no response.

  Michael went first, moving quickly up the wooden steps nailed into the thick trunk. By the time Amanda reached the platform, he had set down his flashlight and was crouching next to the shadowy figure in one corner.

  “Jesse, it’s Michael,” he said softly. “And Amanda’s here, too.”

  When she’d first seen her sister there, Amanda was certain that she must be dead. She was pressed against the railing in one corner, her knees drawn up and her face turned away. But Michael’s voice told her that Jesse must be alive. She crossed the platform and knelt beside Michael as he continued to speak softly to her, then reached out and turned her face toward them.

  Jesse’s eyes were open, but she seemed not to see them. Her hair was disheveled and there were dried tears streaking her makeup. Amanda’s first thought, after her relief at finding Jesse alive, was that her sister looked old.

  Michael bent close to her, still talking quietly, and sniffed. “No smell of alcohol,” he said, turning briefly to her. Then he picked up the flashlight and shone it directly into her face. Jesse tried to turn away—the first voluntary movement she’d made.

  “I don’t see any overt signs of drugs,” Michael said as he began to shake her gently, grasping her shoulders.

  Jesse murmured something, but Amanda didn’t catch it. Michael began to try to get her onto her feet, but she sagged against him and he let her slide to the platform again.

  “It’s too risky for us to try to get her down the steps,” he said, moving away from her. “We’ll have to get some help. I’ll go back to the house and call Steve and get the EMU out here. They can bring a stretcher and get her down that way.”

  Amanda nodded and watched him start down the steps. Then she turned to Jesse and tried to move her into a more comfortable position. Jesse mumbled something that sounded like a protest, but she didn’t resist.

  “See if you can get her to talk,” Michael shouted from below. “Try to find out what she took.”

  Confronted with this unresponsive stranger who was her sister, Amanda wasn’t sure what to say. She tried to do as Michael had suggested, but got no response. So she began to talk about the times they’d played up here before Jesse’s accident At one point, Jesse mumbled something, but even when she leaned close, Amanda couldn’t make out the words.

  Finally, in total frustration, Amanda demanded to know why she’d done whatever she’d done. “I know you couldn’t have killed Eve Lauden! Why won’t you tell us the truth?”

  Jesse’s body began to twitch, and then she drew up her knees again and hugged herself. “Can’t. Can’t tell.”

  By now appalled at her outburst, Amanda still could not resist asking, why?”

  But Jesse merely buried her head in her arms and shook it.

  MICHAEL RETURNED. Both Steve and the EMU were on their way. If Steve arrived in time, he would come out with them on the boat the police and emergency services kept at the marina. Otherwise, he would have to wait at the marina until they brought Jesse there.

  “Did she say anything?” he asked.

  Amanda shook her head, too ashamed to admit that she’d tried to badger her sister.

  “It’s possible that she didn’t take anything,” Michael said. “I checked the bathroom and her room and I didn’t find any pill bottles.” He knelt besid
e Jesse and checked her pockets, then played the beam of the flashlight over the platform and on the ground beneath them.

  After staring at her for a moment, he knelt beside her again. “Jesse, if you took something—even something illegal—I want you to tell me. If you don’t, they’ll probably pump your stomach, and that’s not pleasant.”

  Unlike his earlier tone, his voice was now all business, all cop. Jesse didn’t move, but after a moment, she said, in a low but distinct voice, “Nothing.”

  “Jesse, listen to me. The emergency medical people will be here soon. If they ask you if you took something, be honest with them. But if they ask you anything else, just keep quiet. Steve is calling your therapist. She’ll meet you at the hospital. You can talk to her, but don’t talk to anyone else. Do you understand?”

  Jesse nodded. “Won’t talk to anyone.”

  “Why did you tell her that?” Amanda whispered when they had moved off to the far corner of the platform.

  “For her own protection. Steve is right—she must know something. But I don’t want her to start babbling to the EMTs or to anyone else. If she confesses to someone, it could be used against her, though I’m sure a good lawyer could get it thrown out.”

  He saw her shocked expression and went on. “Look, I’m doing the best I can to protect her. If I can get her to talk later, then it can be a voluntary statement and that would be in her favor.”

  “Michael, I...” Amanda stopped, then stretched up to kiss him. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. If I can’t get her to volunteer a statement, then we’re still in trouble.”

  LATER, WHEN JESSE WAS on her way to the hospital and Michael was following, she turned to him, stared at his strong profile in the dim light from the dashboard and thought about his use of the phrase, “we’re still in trouble.” And she knew that nothing Michael might have said could more clearly show his love for her.

  But they were still in trouble, and it was getting worse.

  Chapter Eleven

  The bedside clock read 5:03 a.m. when Michael opened his eyes. He was one of those rare people who had no need of an alarm to awaken him. He would simply fix in his mind the time he had to get up, then fall asleep secure in the knowledge that he would awaken at that time.

  Most people would have found such a trait to be remarkable, but Michael simply accepted it, much as he accepted everything else that made him what he was. He understood—in a somewhat vague manner—that it was probably the result of his chaotic childhood, when he’d been responsible for get ting himself up in the morning for school, then fixing his own breakfast and his lunch, as well. He’d done his own laundry, and even such ironing as was required, from the day he started school.

  Michael Quinn was a highly disciplined man, but it was a self-discipline that had come at a very high price.

  He slid carefully out of bed, then paused to let his gaze rove over its other occupant. She had pulled the covers up to her neck, and her golden hair spilled over the pillow, catching the dim light that poured in from the hallway.

  After gathering up his clothing, Michael padded quietly out of the room, then went into her home office across the hallway and dressed. A few minutes later, he was out into the night, where the sky was just beginning to lighten a bit.

  The low rumble of the Porsche’s engine seemed very loud in the predawn silence. He left the parking lot and turned toward his condo, only a short distance away. When he saw the sign at the entrance to the parking lot, he began to downshift, then took his hand off the gearshift and instead continued past it.

  After a quick stop at an all-night convenience store for a big container of coffee and some doughnuts, he drove through the still sleeping city, his eyes automatically seeking out the shadows, already the cop again.

  Then he’d left the city behind and was climbing into the hills, finally turning into the unmarked driveway that led to his house. Ever since construction had begun, he’d made it a habit to come out at least a couple of times a week to check on things. Before he’d hired the architect and the builder, Michael had devoured every book he could find on the subject of home construction and the pitfalls of building your own home. He knew it was important to keep tabs on even the best builder.

  But it had been more than a week since he’d come up here, and now, when his headlights swept across the structure, he was surprised to see that the exterior was completely finished, and the piles of materials that had littered the yard were gone.

  He rolled to a stop in front of the double-garage doors and climbed out, then reached back into the car for his breakfast. A minute or so later, he was out on the deck off the master bedroom, having paused only briefly to survey the work inside.

  Some time ago, he’d brought out a cheap folding chair and he dropped into it now, then pulled the lid off the coffee container and stared at the slowly awakening city spread out below him. A mist was rising from the river, nearly obscuring the Bottom. He remembered that mist well. He’d walked to school in it many times, a stolen knife in his pocket to protect him from the older boys who liked to prey on little kids. He wouldn’t be able to do that now; his old school had metal detectors in the doorways because kids like him often carried guns now.

  His gaze shifted to the small corner of the lake that was visible from here, and with it, his thoughts shifted, as well: away from his childhood to the present and the immediate future. And to the past as well, really.

  Like all good detectives, Michael trusted his instincts, but this was a time when he wished that he didn’t trust them quite so much because he didn’t like what they were telling him.

  The suspicion had been there all along, even though he’d tried to ignore it. But now, with the near certainty that Jesse knew something, he couldn’t afford to ignore it any longer. The only question in his mind was how to proceed—and what price he would have to pay to see that justice was served.

  “OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR. Counsel is leading the witness.” Amanda kept her eyes on the judge and ignored the outraged expression the defense counsel had contrived to fix on his face.

  “Sustained. Reframe your question, Counselor.”

  Amanda sank back into her seat, grateful for even this small victory. Behind her, she could feel the eyes of the media on her. She knew it wasn’t likely that they’d heard about Jesse or that they’d consider it to be newsworthy if they did, but she couldn’t quell the fear that they were going to pounce on her the moment court recessed, demanding to know what her sister knew about Eve Lauden’s death. Even though she hadn’t yet been positively identified, Michael had released her name in the hope that someone who remembered her or knew the whereabouts of her family would contact him.

  Fortunately, the drive-by shooting and the case she was now trying had kept a twenty-year-old murder from receiving the coverage it might otherwise have garnered, especially given the fact that the body had been found on the island. But with the arrest of the little girl’s killer and with this trial winding its way toward conclusion, she didn’t doubt that the media would be seeking something new to titillate viewers, listeners and readers.

  Worst of all, Amanda was really winging it today. After she’d gotten to the hospital last night and had assured herself that Jesse was doing as well as could be expected, she’d tried to see Ted, her chief assistant. But he’d already gone to sleep and the nurse had told her that waking him would do her little good because he’d been given a sleeping pill.

  This morning, she’d gotten up early with the intention of seeing Ted before court began, but any possibility of that had ended when her father called her.

  She had, of course, called him last night, and while he’d had little to say then, he’d obviously spent the night worrying, and by this morning was back to blaming her and Michael for having driven Jesse to her present state.

  Most of his criticism this time, however, had fallen on Michael, and at one point, Amanda had nearly told him that the man he was so obnoxiously condemni
ng was his future son-in-law. But she’d stopped herself, realizing that that would only serve to convince him that Michael was influencing her.

  After that conversation, she’d just barely had time to call the hospital. The private-duty nurse they’d hired to stay with Jesse reported that she’d had a quiet night and was still sleeping under the influence of the drug they’d given her.

  During the brief morning recess, Amanda called Jesse’s therapist, but was unable to speak with her because she was in session. Then she called the hospital again and learned that Michael had been there only moments before, but had left quickly when Jesse became agitated and refused to speak to him. Steve was with her now, and he said that Jesse was awake and aware of her surroundings, but incommunicative otherwise.

  Over the lunch recess, Amanda went to the hospital. Jesse was awake and sitting up in bed, but the moment she saw Amanda, she slid down in the bed and pulled the covers over her head. Fighting her frustration, Amanda managed to murmur some soothing words, then went to the floor below to see Ted.

  They spent a half hour going over the case, and Amanda returned to court feeling much more comfortable about how to proceed. Ted told her that some of the other staff, who’d managed to pop into the courtroom from time to time, had told him she was doing a great job. She could only hope that it wasn’t just empty praise for the boss, because she had no sense herself of how it was going. She’d been operating mostly on autopilot.

  During the afternoon recess, she finally managed to speak to Jesse’s therapist, who’d just returned from visiting her at the hospital.

  “I’m afraid that what’s happened with Jesse doesn’t really fit neatly into any category,” the therapist said. “We do know now that she didn’t take anything—including alcohol—and she swears that she had no intention to kill herself. For what it’s worth, I believe her.

  “What’s happening with Jesse is part denial, I think, and partly an internal struggle. There’s something she’s trying to come to terms with, and that’s about all I can tell you.”