“Sheriff? Ms. Jameson?” Hervé called from the kitchen.
Luke stepped back, breaking their embrace. Kell swayed, then her spine stiffened.
“No more, Luke.” She sidled around him. “I think you should call Cheryl for that ride. Please thank Hervé for lunch. I’ll talk to you this afternoon. At the Center.”
Before Luke could decide if he intended to stop her, she slipped out the door.
Kell forced herself to walk to her car slowly, unsure if Luke watched from the kitchen. Her hands fumbled with the door, but she stilled their trembling and climbed inside. By sheer force of will, she keyed the ignition and drove onto the road.
“Damn him, damn him, damn him.” She repeated the mantra for a quarter of a mile, waiting for her pulse to steady. But she could still taste him on her lips, feel the imprint of his hands at her hips. Could still hear his insistence that she wasn’t as controlled, as cold as she pretended.
He had no right to see inside her, to the woman that yearned for reckless rather than safe, for speed rather than sedate. He had no right to pry for her secrets and to make her yearn to share. Not so soon.
Not ever.
But she didn’t believe the words any more than he did.
She sped along the highway, en route to the Center. Pushing aside her frustration, she concentrated on her first foray into detective work. She’d accepted a partnership with the man sworn to put her client in jail. Truth be told, though, she could see few flaws in his offer.
Hervé Montague possessed a brilliance for food, a delightful charm, and a knife set that bore no resemblance to the Griffin murder weapon. His loose connection with Clay wouldn’t convince a jury of reasonable doubt.
Worse, still, he’d implicated her client by admiring her food artistry. She had been a fool to think Luke would not reach the same conclusions she had, that Eliza was on the short list of suspects. The other two people Hervé mentioned might provide some distraction from her, but not for long.
Working with Luke would be dicey, but she couldn’t see a way around it for now. A strange alliance, to be sure, but one she’d leverage to save Eliza.
By her side, her cell phone rang. David’s name popped on the screen and she engaged the headset. “Yes?”
“Have you been watching the news today?” He interrogated without preamble.
“Nope. I’ve just come from an interview with a possible suspect in the Faraday case. Unfortunately, he has no motive, and his preferred means of murder is a pistol.” Kell had briefed him on the vague contours of Eliza’s predicament, but had not gone into detail. “What’s going on?”
“Police arrested Senator Francine Marley this morning for the murder of her husband and a second party.”
“Who?”
“His boyfriend,” David announced with spiteful glee. “Seems the Senator came home from Washington a day early to surprise the hubby, only to find him ensconced in their Buckhead manse in flagrante delicto. Unlike your suspect, her preferred weapon of choice is a SIG Pro, which is now empty of eight bullets.”
“Eight bullets?”
“Shot them in the chests then took out their offending parts. Post mortem. Called the police and waited to be arrested.” David waited a beat. “Her one phone call after being booked was to Jameson Trent. She specifically requested you as her attorney, Kell.”
Kell clutched the steering wheel, breathless. “Senator Marley is a legend. This case could change everything.”
“Exactly. We’ve had a good streak of luck with celebrities, but when you exonerate Francine Marley, that’s the golden ticket.”
“When’s arraignment?”
“Today. Seems the judges all remember she used to sit on the state Supreme Court. She’s gotten an expedited hearing.”
The conflict occurred to her immediately. With their partnership fresh, Kell needed to be with Luke as he gathered evidence about Clay’s background. Otherwise, she had little hope of gaining access. It made no sense to ask him to hold his investigation while she made the trek to Atlanta and back. David could handle the arraignment. “Then I’ll need you to handle the hearing, David. I won’t be back in Atlanta before Monday.”
“Monday?” David protested. “You have to come right now. Senator Marley expects to see you at her arraignment this afternoon, and she will. The clerk agreed to get it on the docket at four, which will give you plenty of time if you leave now.”
“I can’t come until Monday,” Kell heard herself counter. “Look, you’ll get her out on bail and she’ll get a preliminary hearing in the next thirty days.”
“She’ll demand faster.”
“She’ll learn to wait. Listen, David, I have a responsibility to Mrs. Faraday. The sheriff is homing in on her as a suspect. I can’t leave until I know what he knows.”
David issued an epithet. “Senator Marley has already wired us a one-million-dollar retainer. I don’t have an engagement letter for the orphan lady. Find her a good attorney and get your ass to Atlanta. Today.”
Impatience simmered, but Kell refused it release. She and David had been partners for years, and he wasn’t being unreasonable. Except, for once, she needed to be selfish. An arraignment was a simple matter, and nothing would happen before Monday. She could follow up on more leads while he stood in front of a judge and entered a plea. “Which judge did we pull?”
“Lawrence-Hardy. She clerked for the court under Marley.”
“Perfect. She’ll grant a reasonable bail and give us the entire time on the pc hearing.”
“Which you will be here to ask for. This isn’t a negotiation, Kell.”
“No, this is a partnership, David. I don’t work for you.”
“Absolutely right. You work for our firm, and our firm requires that its top attorney stop assuaging some misplaced guilt about escaping some drudge of a town and her Orphan Annie roots. Quit indulging delusions of Nancy Drew and get on the highway. You do the trials, and I make the business decisions. This is one of them.”
“This isn’t a function of guilt,” Kell insisted. “I promised her I’d help.”
“Then hire a P.I. and a lawyer for her, make your apologies and then come and do your job.”
Understanding his frustration, she placated, “I’m sure you can use your guile to get the senator a reasonable bond and hold the case steady until I return next week. That’s why there are two of us.”
“There are two of us with very specific responsibilities. I handle the quiet, ugly matters like tax evasion and corporate espionage and associate pay. You do the big, flashy murder trials and accidental rapists. We aren’t public defenders, Kell. We keep rich, guilty defendants out of jail for an exorbitant fee, and we’ve just hit the mother lode.”
“David.” His assessment struck her like a blow. Slick, oily shame churned in her belly, and she could hear Luke’s question ringing in her ears. Why did she become a lawyer? To save the lives of spoiled, amoral clients intent on self-destruction? Or to protect and defend the innocent when she found them? In her heart, she knew the answer was both, but the chance to defend the actually innocent came along infrequently.
Ahead of her, the sign to the Faraday Center for Children greeted her, its familiar ivory and blue logo extending a welcome. Beneath her hands, the Porsche’s engine roared quietly as she drove up the inclined driveway to the car-port.
“You still there?” David asked impatiently.
“Yes.”
Assuming he’d won, David briskly moved on. “I think Malikah should sit second chair. She’ll appeal to the jury as a young Senator Marley. Nice contrast to you too.”
“No.”
Slashing through her name on the pad, he conceded, “Fine. I’ll put Doug on it.”
“I meant no, I’m not coming to the arraignment.”
“What?”
“I made a commitment to Eliza, and I’m not leaving her unprotected. You can handle the arraignment, and the prelims. I’ll have a better handle on things here by the weekend
, and we can map out our strategy when I get back to Atlanta.”
“If you don’t come back today, Kell, and we lose the Marley account, I will consider it a breach of our partnership agreement. You know what that means.”
The loss of her partnership draw and a fairly public dispute that could leave her reputation in tatters. “Senator Marley should be reasonable, David.”
“She might be, but I’m not. Be in Atlanta by four or I’ll have you served with termination papers.”
On the lawn, children raced around in the damp summer air, impervious to its sapping heat. She spotted Jorden on a swing, next to a pretty young girl she suspected was the one who’d gotten him punished last week. Without Eliza, they would be scattered to the mercies of foster care systems and other homes. She couldn’t, wouldn’t be responsible for that fate.
“Send them to me in Hallden,” Kell replied firmly. “I’ll email you the address.” She pressed the button that disconnected the call. Immediately, the phone shrilled for attention.
“Hey, Ms. Jameson!” Nina stood at the car window, waving. “Mrs. F told me to keep an eye out for you,” she explained through the glass.
Kell cut the engine and stepped onto the gravel walk. “Good to see you, Nina.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“You look, uh, despondent.”
Kell gave a chuckle. “Excellent word. And an apt description. I’ve just ruined my life.” Tucking her hand inside Nina’s arm, she led the girl up to the house. “How was your day?”
CHAPTER 13
In the library, Kell flopped across the settee, bare feet tucked into the space between cushions. Eliza would kill her if she caught her with shoes scuffing the furniture. She’d been lying prone for most of the day, closeted away from the bustle of chores and supper. Her guest room had been tagged for cleaning, hence her banishment to the nearest room with a flat surface.
Across the room and beyond its bay windows, dusk settled around the Center. Cicadas began their nightly serenade to the tree frogs that inhabited the woods behind the house. Night birds chirped in delighted chorus.
She didn’t notice. In fact, she hadn’t paid attention to much in the twenty-four hours since she’d tossed her career away in a fit of what she could only explain as madness. Rolling onto her side, Kell emitted a wretched moan of agony. After all, she’d carefully exorcised what remained of her scruples over the course of her career, selecting clients and defending cases that shredded any sense of honor. She’d selected a law partner with the soul of a piranha and the ethics to match. Jameson Trent, LLP thrived on cases with the most venal clients and the highest profiles. That’s how David made his money and Kell achieved her fame.
The perfect partnership.
In an instant, though, she’d cast avarice and fame aside for what? Her head throbbed in sympathetic counterpoint to a queasy stomach. To do good. Damn her. Eliza Faraday managed to locate that one last spark of redemption she’d imagined quenched. Now, she had an innocent client.
She hated innocent clients.
Innocence meant caring about the outcome more than the performance. For every other case, the verdict simply capped off what she was hired to do. Create reasonable doubt for the guilty. This time, she’d be obliged to prove her client not guilty.
“Are you going to lounge around all day?”
The gravelly voice with its distinctive timbre pitched her stomach into somersaults. She remembered the way his hands nipped into her waist, stroked her skin. Another in a litany of mistakes. Biting off a curse, Kell rolled over to face the back of the couch, presenting her stiffened spine to the intruder. “Go away, Sheriff.”
Luke shut the library door with a firm click and strolled farther into his favorite room in the Center, ignoring her command. High shelves stood packed tight with leather-bound volumes and flimsy paperbacks. Ever since he arrived in Hallden, Eliza had served as an unofficial lending library. She welcomed those who appreciated her collections.
He had a difficult time picturing the friendly, gentle lady who’d welcomed him with tea and cookies plunging a knife into a defenseless man. But Luke had seen more than his share of inexplicable crimes. Eliza Faraday didn’t strike him as a killer, but he’d been wrong before.
Banishing suspicion, he moved to the section of bookcases where Eliza maintained her stock of espionage novels. The shelves stood next to the end of the settee where Kell appeared to be sulking, if he read her body language properly. He focused on the titles and tried to not stare at the length of leg exposed by the criminally abbreviated skirt hiked up trim, coffee-toned thighs.
Instead, he forced himself to skim the titles, looking for one he hadn’t read before. Swallowing past the familiar tightness in his throat, he said neutrally, “Nina tells me you’ve been hiding in here all day.”
“Nina talks too much,” Kell muttered into the cushions. She was in no mood for banter with him. All she wanted was peace and quiet and a place to sulk in private. As though reading his mind, she drew her legs in close and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I have a headache, that’s all.”
“You were fine yesterday.”
“Now it’s today,” came the snippy reply. “Did you come to quiz me on my medical status or are you here for something specific?”
“Headaches make you testier than usual,” Luke commented, drawing out a title by Cussler. “I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Keep pushing.”
The snarled warning brought a grin to his face. He greatly preferred a feisty Kell to the limp, despondent woman curled into a tight ball of misery on the sofa. Whatever had knocked her back, he knew his presence had the prolific effect of igniting some passion from her. As much as he wanted to cross to her and soothe, annoying her would no doubt be more successful. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he mocked, “What’s got you pouting? Break a heel on those expensive shoes?”
“Pouting?” Very slowly, Kell levered herself over to face him. Her legs stretched out, finding purchase on the armrest. Resentment surged through, a molten sweep that bared her teeth. A huge part of her problem stood in front of her. Mocking her. “I don’t pout.”
“Could have fooled me.” Luke moved to lounge against the sofa, and he trailed a finger along the slender ankle resting on the arm. Desire streaked through him, a visceral race of blood and need. Deliberately, he kept his touch light, amused and aroused when he felt her arch against the light stroke. “Other than a smirk, I didn’t realize your mouth had another expression.”
Kell sat up, eyes spitting fire at the insult. Worse, her flesh tingled where he caressed absently, her pulse jumped erratically. Wrestling for control, she jerked her leg free and shot, “Perhaps if you paid less attention to my mouth and more attention to your case, you wouldn’t need my help.”
If he had paid less attention to her mouth, Luke admitted, he’d probably have recognized why she’d come to Hallden in the first place. Instead of responding, he batted her legs off the cushion and took a seat. “What happened to you after you left the restaurant, Kell?”
“Nothing.” His sitting forced Kell to scoot over, and she abruptly became aware of the expanse of skin her position had exposed. Discreetly, she tugged the raised hem to a more appropriate length. “I got some bad news. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I doubt there’s much you can’t handle, Kell.” He lifted her hand, his voice gentle. She wouldn’t appreciate sympathy, but he couldn’t resist. The odd mixture of stoicism and vulnerability caught at him. Folding his hand over hers, he nudged, “Something upset you. What was it?”
She ran her free hand through her hair, wearily smoothing errant strands into place. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I can listen.”
The simple offer pulled at her. He didn’t demand answers, didn’t wheedle for information. Where his hand clasped hers, warmth trailed along her skin, a companionable feeling that she’d missed without ever knowing she wanted it.
Him. She shook her head in bemusement. “You do that well.”
“What? Listen?”
“No.” She smiled, a brief turn of lips that evaporated as quickly as it appeared. “You make me forget that I don’t know you, and I don’t like you.”
Not offended, Luke turned her captive hand over, his fingers linking with hers. “We do know each other, Kell. That’s what scares you.” When she frowned, he corrected, “Disturbs you.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, it disturbs the hell out of me.” Stroking his thumb along the creamy smooth skin, he urged quietly, “Talk to me.”
The impulse to share confounded Kell. She’d kept her own counsel for so long. Yet, the thought of confiding in Luke brought a comfort that unsettled. She opened her mouth to refuse his offer, only to hear herself confess, “I lost my job yesterday.”
Luke merely rubbed his thumb along the ridge of her knuckles. She wouldn’t look at him, he noted. But her admission was progress. He probed, “Why would David Trent dissolve your partnership? You’re the heart of that firm. Twice the lawyer he is.”
Warmed by the defense, Kell asked, “You know him?”
With a sound of derision, he explained, “I know of him. Practiced criminal work in Chicago for a while. I never met him in court, but my colleagues did.” His mouth tightened. “He wasn’t renowned for his ethics.”
“David plays to win,” she defended automatically. In warning, she added, “So do I.”
“You protect your clients. That’s not the same as Trent’s antics.” It wasn’t a question.
Shame had her flushing lightly. “I win my cases, Luke. By fair means or not so much.”
“Do you lie in court?”
“By legal standards, no.”
“And by yours?” The answer mattered, more than he’d have expected. “Have you broken your oath?”
“No. But give me a few more years with David,” she laughed mirthlessly. “I defend clients who can afford to pay our fees, and they pay for a bit of flexibility in our moral codes.”
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