Oh, my, Jennifer thought, there he was. There was Evan about a hundred feet down the hall and it appeared as though he was staring directly at her.
Feet. She had to move her feet, put one in front of the other, and produce a nice friendly smile at the same time. She could do this. No, she couldn’t. She was going to turn around and hightail it out of there, never to be seen again.
“Get a grip,” she said, under her breath, and started forward.
There she was, Evan thought, as he watched Jennifer approach very slowly. His heart was beating like a bongo drum, damn it. And was that…? Yes, it was. There was a trickle of sweat running down his chest. Where in the hell was this nonsense coming from?
Evan cleared his throat, causing Belinda Morris, his fifty-two-year-old secretary, to turn and look at him questioningly, then shift her gaze to what he was staring at.
“Oh-h-h,” Belinda said, smiling. “So the time has come. I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with Jennifer Anderson already. She’s delightful. You could be a gentleman and meet her halfway, you know.”
“What’s gentlemanly about that?”
“Well, you’re standing there like the king of the hill, or something. It would be a tad warmer, more friendly, if you at least gave the appearance of welcoming her to your office, indicate that you’re delighted to see her again. You did tell me it had been three months since you made her acquaintance.”
“I’m not delighted to see her again,” Evan said, in a loud whisper. “I’m in the middle of a very important, high-profile case that is about to go to trial, if you’ll recall, and I don’t have time for this documentary stuff.”
But here comes Jennifer Anderson, he thought. She was getting closer, and closer and…
Jennifer covered the remaining twenty feet separating her from Evan, then stopped, immediately switching her gaze to his secretary.
“Hello, Belinda. How are you?”
“Fine, just fine. And you?”
I’m falling apart by inches, Belinda, Jennifer thought. I didn’t know it would be this difficult to see Evan again but…
“Hello, Jennifer,” Evan said quietly.
Jennifer drew a steadying breath that she hoped wasn’t noticeable, then slowly turned her head to meet Evan’s gaze.
“Evan,” she said, hating the squeaky little noise that was passing itself off as her voice.
“Did you want to see me?”
“Yes, if you’re free,” she managed to say.
“Come in,” he said, stepping back. “Belinda, please hold my calls.”
“You betcha, boss. Just close that door and I’ll make certain that no one disturbs the two of you…sir.”
“You can be replaced, you know,” Evan said, pointing a finger at her.
“Don’t be silly. You couldn’t run this office without me. Go right on in, Jennifer.”
Jennifer walked past Evan, catching the faint aroma of his woodsy aftershave. She heard him close the door behind him, the quiet click seeming more like an explosion. Sinking gratefully onto one of the chairs facing Evan’s desk, she crossed her legs, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
Evan went around the desk and sat down on the butter-soft leather chair. His office was large, boasting a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Bookcases lined another wall and a grouping of a love seat and two easy chairs was off to one side.
How was it possible, he thought, that Jennifer was even more lovely now than she had been three months ago before she left for California on that assignment?
Her shoulder-length black hair seemed to glisten, those incredible green eyes were sparkling emeralds, and there was a radiance about her, a glow, or some such thing. Oh, for crying out loud, Stone, knock it off.
“I hear you’ve been busy around here,” Evan said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen.
“Yes. Yes, I have.” Jennifer nodded. “Sticks and I…Sticks is my cameraman…have filmed a great deal of footage here in the courthouse and over at the police station. Everyone has been very cooperative, which certainly makes my job easier. Yes, it certainly does.
“We filmed the empty courtroom downstairs where the case you’re taking to trial soon will be held. I thought that might have a dramatic effect. You know, show the empty jury seats, the judge’s bench, the table where the defendant will sit, what have you, with an over-voice to emphasize that while that room is silent now it will soon hold many people and a man’s future will be decided within those four walls.
“I must say, Evan, that you certainly granted my request and then some. Do you remember me saying it would add a real punch to my documentary if you were involved in a high-profile case by the time I got here? And bingo…they don’t get bigger than the Gardner case. Chicago is buzzing about it. You can’t pick up a newspaper or catch the news on television without hearing about…I think I’m babbling.”
“I think you are, too. Are you uncomfortable seeing me again, Jennifer?”
“Are you uncomfortable seeing me?”
“I asked you first.” Evan frowned and shook his head. “That sounded like something a kid in elementary school would say.”
“All right, yes,” Jennifer said, averting her gaze and picking an imaginary thread from her slacks. “I’m a tad nervous about seeing you again, Evan, because there’s no erasing what happened between us, what should not have happened. I just don’t want you to think that I make a practice of… There’s no point in discussing this.”
“No, there isn’t any point in discussing it. Except I want you to know that I certainly don’t think less of you because of what took place. My behavior was out of character for me, too. Let’s agree that our mutual respect is still intact.”
“My, my,” Jennifer said, an edge to her voice, “aren’t we just so civilized and sophisticated? We made a mistake but, hey, it’s old news so forget it.”
Evan frowned. “What would you have me say?”
“I’m sorry.” Jennifer sighed. “It’s just not an easy subject for me to discuss. What you said was fine, very nice, and I appreciate it.” She paused. “Let’s get on with why I’m here, shall we?”
“Yes, here you are,” Evan said, “and the fact that I am in the midst of a high-profile case prompts me to ask you to finish your documentary after the Gardner trial is completed.”
“What?” Jennifer said, leaning forward. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Look,” Evan said, folding his arms on the top of the desk, “I’m putting in very long, high-stress days getting ready for this trial. The last thing I need is a camera in my face and you taking notes, or recording, every little thing I do and say.”
“But…”
“Let me finish,” he said, raising one hand. “I know that you and I agreed that I had final approval on the documentary before it’s aired. Dandy. But in the meantime you and this Sticks guy might hear something that could demolish my case if it got out. I don’t want to run that kind of risk.”
“You don’t trust me?” Jennifer said, splaying one hand on her chest, then slouching back in the chair. “That’s insulting, it really is. I’m a professional, Evan, not some kid who has just been assigned her first story to cover. Give me some credit here.”
“I’m not saying I don’t trust you,” he said, his voice rising. “But slip-ups happen. You and your cameraman might be discussing something you filmed in this office and it could be overheard by the wrong person. I repeat…I don’t want to run that kind of risk.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Jennifer said. “What the papers and anchormen are reporting. You have a shaky case against Lyle Gardner, circumstantial evidence that you somehow have to convince a jury is enough to convict him of killing his brother. If you had a heavy-duty, solid case against him, you wouldn’t be so concerned about loose lips sinking ships, or however that goes.”
“Hell, what do you want from me?” Evan said. “Do you think I’m going to allow you to film me saying something like ‘This is a weak cas
e with a bunch of circumstantial evidence, but if I get lucky I can still send the bum up the river’? Give me a break. And for heaven’s sake keep what I just said confidential. I’m going with ‘no comment’ with all reporters who snag me regarding the evidence I have against Lyle Gardner. I’m attempting to give the impression that I have more than I do, Jennifer.
“I can count on one hand the number of people who know the details of my case against Gardner. I sure as hell don’t feel like adding a photojournalist and a cameraman to that list.”
“Well, I’m afraid you don’t have any choice in the matter, Mr. Stone,” Jennifer said, narrowing her eyes. “I’m here to do my job and you’ll just have to trust me, like it or not. If you think you can put me on the back burner until this trial is over, why don’t you call the mayor and tell him that you’re going to change a dynamite documentary into vanilla pudding.
“Go ahead. Pick up the telephone and call him. Maybe he’ll order us to go out to dinner and settle our differences like he did three months ago and…” Jennifer’s voice trailed off, and a warm flush crept onto her cheeks.
“And we not only settled our differences about the documentary,” Evan said quietly, looking directly at her, “we ended the evening by making love.”
“Yes. Well. We agreed not to discuss that further at this point.”
“Meaning there will be a point that we’ll discuss it further?” Evan said, raising his eyebrows.
“Don’t push me, Evan. I am not going to postpone finishing this documentary until after the Gardner trial. That’s it. Bottom line.”
“You,” Evan said, pointing a finger at her, “are a pain in the neck.”
“And you,” Jennifer shot back, “are being rude. Evan, you were hopping mad three months ago that any kind of documentary was going to be done about you and this office. The mayor wants this film for positive public relations.
“You and I compromised back then with my agreeing to allow you to give final approval on the film, and you agreed to cooperate when I returned from California and got rolling on this. You can’t change your mind about the whole thing now.” Jennifer paused. “We’re not doing very well here.”
Evan sighed and ran one hand over the back of his neck. “No, we’re not, and you’re holding all the cards. If I talk to the mayor about postponing your being here, he’ll blow a fuse. I’m stuck with you.”
“That,” Jennifer said, jumping to her feet, “is the most demeaning thing I have ever heard and…Whew.” She pressed one hand to her forehead and sank back onto the chair.
“What’s wrong?” Evan said, rising and coming around the front of the desk. “You’re white as a sheet all of a sudden.”
“I just got up too fast, that’s all. I was dizzy for a second there, but I’m fine now.”
“Do you want a glass of water? Some soda? Orange juice?”
“No, no,” she said, waving one hand in the air. “I’m okay. Really. You can go back and sit down in your chair now. I don’t need you hovering over me like you are. So close…and…hovering…like that.”
“I suppose you know,” Evan said, still hovering, “that the sweater you’re wearing matches your eyes to perfection.” He nodded. “Of course, you do.”
“Is that a crime?” she said, glaring at him. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“No, but you reap what you sow. Pick the sweater, pay the price.”
And with that, Evan gripped Jennifer’s upper arms, hauled her to her feet and kissed her.
Jennifer’s eyes widened in shock, then in the next instant her lashes drifted down and she wrapped her arms around Evan’s back and returned the searing kiss in total abandonment.
Oh, dear heaven, she thought, she’d been waiting three long months for this. For Evan. She remembered every exquisite detail, every overwhelming sensation, of making love with Evan Stone. It had been like nothing she had ever experienced before and…
But it had been wrong, wrong, wrong, should not have taken place. They’d only known each other for a handful of hours back then and…
Evan raised his head a fraction of an inch to draw a rough breath, then slanted his mouth in the opposite direction and captured Jennifer’s lips once again, drinking in the taste of her, savoring.
Three months, his mind hummed. An eternity, that’s what it had been, waiting for this kiss. But he wanted more. He wanted to make love with Jennifer again. Now. Right now.
Ah, hell. They had been near-strangers when they’d made love, should never have let things go that far, so out of control, and here he was again, falling under Jennifer’s spell and… No.
Evan broke the kiss, inched Jennifer away from his aroused body, then lowered her back onto her chair. She blinked, shook her head slightly, then took a wobbly breath.
“Oh…my…goodness,” she said.
Evan marched around his desk, sank onto the chair, and dragged both hands down his face.
“That was dumb,” he said, his voice gritty with passion. “Really stupid. And it won’t happen again.”
Well, phooey, Jennifer thought, rather hazily, why not? That kiss had been sensational, absolutely wonderful. Oh, Jennifer, get it together. It was wrong, wrong, wrong.
“We’re going to be working very closely together during the next couple of weeks,” Evan said, “and I can’t afford to be distracted from having total concentration on this pending trial. Is that clear? Therefore, I’m going to do everything within my power to pretend you aren’t there, close, next to me and…Are you getting this? As far as I’m concerned you’ll be invisible.”
“I…”
“And one other thing,” he went on. “Don’t wear that sweater again.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “This is ridiculous.”
“No. This is dangerous. You took part in those kisses we just shared, Jennifer. Totally. This…whatever it is…between us didn’t diminish in the time we’ve been apart. But I cannot, and will not, allow anything, or anyone, to keep me from concentrating fully on this case.”
“No, of course, not. I understand.” Jennifer nodded. “You really believe that Lyle Gardner is guilty of killing his brother, don’t you? And you’re worried that you won’t be able to prove it with the evidence you have. This is me, Jennifer, asking you this, Evan, not Jennifer Anderson the film journalist.”
Evan hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’m worried that Gardner is going to get off.”
“But everyone I’ve interviewed for the film believes that he’s guilty. I spoke with those two detectives who handled the case. Colin Waters and Darien Wilson, right? They are both adamant about Lyle Gardner’s guilt.
“I also interviewed Maggie Sutter, who gathered forensic evidence at the scene for the investigation. She’s convinced that Lyle killed his younger brother but…”
“But we’re missing the last piece to the puzzle,” Evan said wearily. “The evidence that would make it possible for me to feel confident I can get a guilty verdict from the jury. We’re not giving up. Waters and Wilson are putting in grueling days trying to find what we need, and I’m going over every shred of evidence we do have, time and again.”
“You all must be exhausted.”
“We are, but there’s no getting around the fact that all the defense has to do is establish reasonable doubt, while I have to prove without a doubt that he did it. If I can’t do that, he walks. Lyle Gardner will stroll out of that courtroom a free man and he’s guilty as sin. I know it. I feel it. I’m just not certain that I can prove it.”
Chapter 2
That evening Jennifer sat curled up in the corner of the sofa in her apartment with a mug of hot tea. Her hair was still damp from a long, soothing shower and she was wearing her favorite old chenille robe that had once been a bright blue but was now a rather faded, dingy gray.
Her notebook was propped on the arm of the sofa and she was transferring her notes onto the legal pad on her lap, adding more details and
impressions.
No wonder Evan was concerned about the outcome of the trial that was rapidly approaching, she thought, staring into space. The case was complex with a myriad of players in the drama.
And no wonder the press was everywhere, hoping for any details they could add to their daily reports to the public. The Gardner family, one of the icons of Chicago, had been toppled in a wave of scandalous disgrace to the delight of the sensation-seeking citizens of the windy city.
The murdered man, Franklin Gardner, had been a highly visible member of the socially prominent and civic-minded family. Franklin, along with his brother Lyle and mother Cecelia, were continually lauded for their generous donations of time and money as they supported fund-raising events for a multitude of charities.
“The mighty have fallen,” Jennifer said aloud.
And in disgrace, she mentally tacked on. The investigation of Franklin’s murder had revealed a dark side to the man. He’d been involved in a horrendous operation that kidnapped pretty young girls and sold them to an overseas prostitution ring.
“Unbelievable,” Jennifer whispered, then flipped to the next page in the notebook.
How diabolically slick the whole thing had been, she mused. Gardner money helped support halfway houses and shelters in the city that Franklin often and understandably visited on behalf of his family.
It was there that he selected his victims, then arranged for Desmond Reicher, a business associate, to proposition the girls and bring them to the buyer. Franklin made certain that he selected only runaways, which resulted in the belief that the girls had once again decided to disappear.
Reicher had been arrested, was considered a flight risk and was in jail with no bail granted as he awaited trial. He adamantly denied any guilt in the murder of Franklin Gardner, and the detectives on the case believed him. Why would Reicher kill the golden goose in the form of Franklin Gardner? Without Franklin, Reicher’s steady stream of money would be cut off. No, Desmond Reicher had not killed Franklin Gardner.
The detectives had shifted their attention to Lyle, Franklin’s older brother. His alibi at the time of the murder was flimsy…he was home alone watching television. Also, the medical examiner had determined that Franklin had been murdered by someone who was left-handed. Lyle was left-handed. Reicher was right-handed.
Body of Evidence Page 18
