Evidence of Desire

by Lexi Blake

  “The one where you got knocked out and the Guardians were down at the half?” He remembered that game well.

  He nodded. “Yeah. My swan song.”

  “Hell of a swan song. You came back despite the injury and led them to a twenty-one-point comeback victory. I would think that would be easy to find.”

  “Yeah, but the best footage is in the vault at the stadium,” Trey explained. “We were filming Holding the Line at the time and when they were done, they donated all of the footage to the Guardians. There was probably a hundred hours of footage of that game alone. They had cameras everywhere. Most of it’s never been seen before. That’s what she wanted. I set her up with one of the media specialists, but I can’t remember if she ever went.”

  He’d been hoping there was something with the director that might lead somewhere, but it was hard to have an affair when you kept telling your husband where you were going and what you were doing. That seemed like a dead end.

  “Could she have had an item or knowledge someone wanted?”

  A smile played across his face as though remembering something good. “She was real good with fashion. And she had lots of jewelry, but other than that we were pretty normal.”

  “You can’t think of anyone who fought with her?”

  He shook his head. “Not who would kill her.”

  “But there was someone.”

  He sighed and for a moment David wasn’t sure he would reply. “Miranda was upset about the will. Oscar didn’t know. When Miranda found out she wouldn’t get her money until she was thirty, she and Portia yelled a lot. She didn’t hate Isla or anything, but she didn’t think Isla should have control of the money. But she’s only been in college for a couple of years. It might be different if she wasn’t so young. Portia didn’t want that burden on her.”

  “Did Miranda know the will had been filed?” This was interesting. Miranda had been on Isla’s side every single time. And she was the one who’d called Isla the night of the murder. What if she’d done that to cover her own tracks?

  “She knew it was being written,” Trey explained. “I don’t know if Portia told her we’d finalized it. I hated disappointing her, but I follow Portia’s lead when it comes to this stuff. I’m not as smart as she is.” His face went blank for a second. “God, what am I going to do without her? I don’t know how to live without her. How do I make decisions? How do I take care of my kids?”

  He wouldn’t. Isla would until they were ready to deal with the companies and the money themselves. This man shouldn’t be feeling guilty. “You put your children in a position where they never have to worry about money or how to keep a roof over their heads. You did everything you could. And your wife hired Isla.”

  Trey breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Isla. Thank god. Isla is a good woman. She’s been like another daughter to us, but like the most reasonable daughter a couple could have. I hate that she sees me the way I am now. Did she think . . . ?”

  “Not once. Not even when all the evidence was against you. And she doesn’t believe Oscar did it either,” he explained. “She’s on my ass to get him out of here as soon as possible. Believe me, she won’t stop until you’re both out of here.”

  Trey went still for a moment. “You sound like you admire her.”

  He was more than half in love with her. “I do.”

  His eyes went a little steely. “Does it go beyond the professional?”

  It looked like he would have to get through more than Carey Kendrick if he wanted Isla. “I’m seeing her, but don’t think that will have an effect on my defense. She’s not the client. You are. Oscar is. I’ll take care of you both.”

  “How long did you play?” Trey asked, his fingers tangling together.

  When had this become an interrogation of him and not Adams? “A few years.”

  “How many hits did you take?” Trey’s tone was soft, but the words lashed at David.

  “More than I can count.”

  Trey kept it up. “How many concussions?”

  He wanted to stand up and walk out, but he forced himself to answer the question. “Serious ones? Three, but you know as well as I do, it’s not the serious ones that count. Not for what you’re asking. You want to know if I have CTE. I’ve got the same chance as everyone else, maybe worse odds because my father’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

  A shudder went through Trey. “So you know what you could be facing?”

  “I know it’s a possibility. You don’t like a football player dating Isla?” Even though he’d thought the same thing, he couldn’t help but feel something about the fact that a man he admired didn’t want him around his daughter.

  “She’s been through a lot and now she’s going to do whatever it takes to help me. I wish she wouldn’t. I wish you would let me do this one last thing for my son. If I’m not around or locked away in some prison, what does it matter?” Trey asked softly.

  “I think your family would say it does.”

  “Portia doesn’t say anything.” The words came out on a grim huff. “She won’t say anything again and I might not have killed her myself, but I didn’t save her. I wasn’t there when she needed me the most. I was so drugged I didn’t hear her crying out for me. I couldn’t save her because I’m not here anymore. Not really. Do you know?”

  “Know?”

  “They can test you now. Do you know?” Trey asked.

  “I haven’t taken a test.” Testing for CTE in a live patient was fairly new.

  “You should think about it. Take the test and if you have it, walk away from her,” Trey said, his tone firm.

  “What?”

  Trey put his hands on the table and leaned in. “Walk away from her because all you’ll do is bring her pain. It might be good for a couple of years. Hell, we had a lot of good years, Portia and me, but I should have died. She should have let me go, kicked me out when I started getting mean. When I would get paranoid those first few times, she would be so calm. She didn’t even know what was happening, but she would take all the abuse I would spew at her and tell me she loved me.”

  His stomach was in knots. Every word coming from the man’s mouth reinforced his nightmare. “She knew something was wrong.”

  “Yes, and she knew I should have saved her. She knew in her last moments that I was a hundred feet away and I did nothing. I was useless. I’ve been worse than useless to her. I’ve been . . . you ever read that poem? It’s funny, I don’t remember a lot from school, but I remember reading about the albatross.”

  He did remember a lot from school. “‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.’ Samuel Taylor Coleridge.”

  “She had everything. She had a future.” The words sounded tortured coming from Trey’s lips. “But she kept me when she should have saved herself. I was the albatross around her neck.”

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant,” David argued. “The albatross was good luck until the mariner shot him down. It was in not showing kindness that the mariner lost everything and brought bad luck down on his crew.”

  “And yet I was the bad luck. She didn’t see it.” Trey looked down at his hands and when he looked back up there was no mistaking the confusion in his eyes. “I . . . I’m getting fuzzy. I know I know you and you’re supposed to be here, but could you remind me why?”

  “I’m your attorney,” David replied patiently, but he knew this was the end of Trey’s good portion of the day. How long before there were no more good parts and Trey’s whole personality was devoured by the disease eating away at his brain? How long before his soul wasted away?

  And how many people would he take down with him?

  Trey started to cry as the tragedy hit him again. It seemed to be fresh, as though the memory was something he lived in the here and now.

  When he screamed his wife’s name, the guards came in to take him away and David was
left to think.

  * * *

  • • •

  Isla stared down at the day planner. She’d spent hours going through them and now it was almost time to head over to the stadium. It was kind of sad that she was looking forward to spending a couple of hours listening to Carey talk about the new season and trying desperately to convince a crazy lady that she should let family handle a memorial. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she had to convince Amber to let Portia’s sister handle it. She’d gone over the argument in her head about a million times, trying to figure out the best way to get Amber to understand.

  Being stuck inside day after day was starting to make her stir-crazy. It wasn’t so bad when someone else was around. Okay. It wasn’t horrible when David was around and he took her mind off things, but when it got quiet all she could think about was what had happened. What might happen.

  When it was quiet, she could hear those footsteps on the floor. In her mind she could hear the water come on and somewhere deep inside a set of whispering voices. Was she remembering more or was her mind playing tricks on her? If she closed her eyes and tried to put herself back there, she could remember the feel of bile in her stomach, rushing up to escape. She could remember finding the big potted palm and how she’d hit her knees in front of it, her hands against the rim as she was sick.

  And then the sounds. Even sitting in the safety of the penthouse a chill went up her spine as she remembered the sound of someone walking across the floor. Then the light from the kitchen filtered in, casting shadows on the hall below her. That was when she’d shrunk back, trying to evade the illumination like it was a searchlight and she was prey.

  If she concentrated very hard, she could hear the whispers.

  Why?

  I had to . . .

  Stupid bitch . . . hurry . . . that asshole isn’t going to stay up there forever . . .

  She started as something in the background creaked and she nearly screamed.

  Deep breath. She was going to make herself crazy if she kept going like this. Now that she knew she’d sat there outside of Portia’s bedroom for twenty minutes, her mind was trying to fill in that time. Nature abhorred a vacuum and apparently so did her brain. How could she tell David she suddenly remembered not one but two voices? It didn’t make sense. She would have run into the killer if he’d still been there. Wouldn’t she?

  Or had they been in another part of the house looking for whatever they were looking for? Had they done that search more quietly, calmed after knowing Portia was dead and wouldn’t be able to say anything about what she knew?

  She glanced up at the clock. There was an hour or so before she needed to leave, and as far as she knew David hadn’t left Rikers yet. She had a bad feeling that he wasn’t going to make it back in time.

  Should she call and reschedule? David wouldn’t be happy with her if she went out by herself.

  Maybe she should have taken that bodyguard they’d offered her. At least then she’d be able to go outside these sacred walls. She would be able to drive around and think. Perhaps working at David’s office would provide her with enough of a change of scenery that she could concentrate.

  Despite the memories playing through her mind, she’d gotten some work done. She’d managed to get the director Portia had been working with on the phone. He corroborated everything Cressida had told her. He’d been meeting with Portia to help her edit the film for her husband’s fiftieth. She’d canceled their last meeting in an abrupt fashion that didn’t seem to mesh with who Portia was, but he hadn’t been able to tell Isla why. He’d told her they’d worked on the family films first, editing some beautiful wedding footage and some footage of Trey’s college and early career. The week of her death they’d been ready to start on the latter portions of Trey’s career, but she wanted to find rare footage.

  And then she’d told him she couldn’t make it. And then she was dead.

  Isla turned the page and stopped. There in Portia’s handwriting was a series of letters and numbers.

  09–19-AVI1–5

  What did that mean? There was also a name under the letters and it was underlined three times. Garrison. And what was obviously a phone number.

  Henry Garrison? David’s law partner? If he’d talked to Portia before her death, surely he would have mentioned it. It had to be someone else. If Henry had talked to Portia, he could potentially be a material witness and therefore would never have allowed David to take the case.

  Of course, there was one way to find out. She dialed the number.

  “Garrison, Cormack, and Lawless, how may I direct your call?”

  She hung up, her heart skipping a beat.

  Why on earth would Portia have called Henry Garrison? Why would she need Manhattan’s top criminal attorney?

  Why hadn’t Henry said a word?

  She glanced down. The words were written on the date page before the day of her death. There was only one meeting noted the day after she died and that was a meeting at nine in the morning. It read, Isla 9 A.M.?

  What was that question mark about?

  Her phone trilled as a text came in. It was from David, saying they were back in the city but he was going by the police station to check something out. He didn’t want her leaving without him.

  She sighed and texted back.

  Should I reschedule?

  A moment passed.

  If you can. We have a lot to talk about.

  Anything good?

  Why don’t you order us some dinner and we’ll talk.

  Wow. That didn’t sound promising. He’d left this morning in a good mood. What had Trey said to him?

  The answer hit her square in the gut. If Trey was truly stable now and if he knew Oscar had been arrested, he would have confessed. He would have done anything he could to save his son.

  How would David handle that? She wasn’t exactly sure, but she knew from a legal standpoint it would be difficult to do anything. Trey could confess all he liked. If the evidence didn’t back him up, the DA wouldn’t send him before a grand jury. They would keep their eyes on Oscar.

  She could handle a nasty talk if it had to do with work. But she’d seen his eyes as he left her today. Oh, he’d done and said all the right things, but that storm Erin had talked about was swirling inside David, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it if he asked her to make a choice.

  He was upset that she intended to take over Trey’s care. That had to be it. When they’d argued over what would happen with Trey, that was the moment she felt some distance between them.

  It hurt that he couldn’t understand this was her problem now. She couldn’t foist it off on the kids. She’d been hired so the kids didn’t have to deal with this, so they could find their footing before they did have to take over.

  What was she going to do if he made her choose? She thought he wouldn’t like her decision. She couldn’t be with a man who made her choose between him and her job. It wasn’t fair. She would never do the same thing to him.

  If he did this, he would rip a piece of her soul out when he left. She was in far too deep with this man and she wouldn’t be able to shrug and move on the way she had with Royce.

  Isla stood and dialed a number she didn’t want to dial, but it was always better to rip that bandage off.

  “Hello?” Carey answered immediately, but then she was calling his private line. He always carried two cell phones. One for business, which he could easily ignore, and one for family, which included his wife and Isla and a cousin he liked. “Isla? Is everything all right?”

  She needed to call him more often. If she’d realized one thing from all this horror, it was that she needed to stay in touch with the people she cared about. She’d skipped Portia’s girls’ trips because she decided work was more important, and now she would give a lot to have those memories of her friend and mentor. Carey was like a dad to her and
yet she called him so infrequently that he worried something was wrong when she did.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Well, everything is, but I suspect you know that.”

  A long sigh came over the line. “How is Trey? I’ve asked if I can see him, but they said no one but his attorney can right now. You know what he’s going to do if those meds work and he can think straight, right?”

  Anyone who knew the man could guess. “I think he already did. David sent me a text about needing to talk. I think Trey confessed to him.”

  “And you’re sure he didn’t do it.”

  “I am, Carey,” she replied, trying to be patient. “I heard someone moving down in the kitchen. I know it sounds crazy, but the killer was still in the apartment when I was. And I know where Trey was. He was holding Portia.”

  Carey paused. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “I’m one hundred percent sure that someone turned on the light to the kitchen and turned on the water,” she explained. “I know that happened. The rest is fuzzy. I apparently had a panic attack.”

  “Okay, but the memories are there,” Carey said. “We can get a therapist. I’ll find the best in the country. We can put you under hypnosis and prove that Trey couldn’t have done this. I can’t let him spend the rest of his life in jail. But what about Oscar? The news is saying the case against him is strong.”

  The news liked to overstate things. “They have one very good piece of evidence against him and I can explain it away. Once we get through his bail hearing, we’ll start on his case in earnest. I know what Trey is going to do, but it won’t work even if we allowed him to do it.”

  “Good, because I can’t stand the thought of this being the end of Trey’s life. I’ll start looking for a therapist. And maybe you could use someone to talk to. I can’t imagine what that scene was like.”

  Yep, he was like a dad. “I promise I’ll talk to someone. Right now it’s easy to sleep because I’m working like a dog and my brain shuts off. I think it’s going to get worse as I put some distance and try to normalize. But I actually called because I need to cancel tonight.”