He opened the door. “Kate.” He turned to face her. “I didn’t just come here to say thank you.”
A slow flush rose in her chest.
“You know I care about you.” His eyes searched hers.
She reached over and kissed him on the cheek. His skin under the stubble was smooth, warm. Tasted of salt. “I know. Now go to bed. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
He captured her hand and pressed it against his chest. His heart beat hard against her palm. She didn’t want him to let go.
“We will continue this discussion when the time is right. For both of us.” His eyes searched hers.
Kate’s heart caught. He was right—this wasn’t the time to start a relationship. But she also knew that sometimes the timing never worked out.
Unwilling to defeat the hope that had finally rekindled in Randall’s eyes, she nodded.
He stepped into the fog-bound night, Charlie at his heels.
She locked the front door and found Alaska dozing on the sofa in the living room. She plumped up the pillow, unfolded the throw and curled up to his warm, solid body.
75
Ten days later
Ethan studied the photo in the file from Cold Case. Becky Murphy stared at him, her face on the defensive.
He felt sick. Becky Murphy’s remains had been found in a shallow grave a hundred yards behind Jamie Gainsford’s cabin. Her parents were notified, closure was finally achieved, but was justice done?
No. Jamie Gainsford had manipulated them all, manipulated the justice system with his devious use of “expert witness” notes, manipulated Ethan by pretending to reluctantly dribble out confidential information that Ethan was only too eager to eat up and use against Randall Barrett.
Jamie Gainsford had left a trail of victims, some alive, some dead. And no one had ever suspected him. He’d used his professional persona to such effect that no one questioned him.
And now the bastard was dead.
“Can you come to my office?” Deb asked, stopping by his desk.
Here it comes, he thought. He grabbed his notepad and followed her. She closed the door behind him.
His stomach sank.
“Ethan, what the hell happened?” Deb said. They both knew exactly what she was talking about.
His eyes dropped to the Murphy folder. “I screwed up.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You weren’t the only one to be fooled.” She stared at him, her jaw working. “But here’s the problem. I’m getting some flak on this one. First Clarkson—” Ethan tried not to wince at her reference to the file that made Randall Barrett his bête noire “—and now this. Both cases have the same common denominator—Randall Barrett.”
“I know.”
“We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sue our asses off.”
“Look, Deb, I did the best I could. He was the prime suspect after Nick gave his eyewitness testimony.”
She exhaled. “I agree. Based on what you investigated, he was the prime suspect. We all know that. But the public doesn’t. The deputy chief called me and gave me the ‘public is losing confidence in the police’ line.”
Becky Murphy stared at him.
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Deb. We get this all the time. But you know what it’s like in the heat of an investigation. You have to go with your gut.”
Deb picked up a pencil and rolled it between her fingers. “Ethan, everything you say is valid. But the fact remains that if the public doesn’t have confidence in the police, then we can’t be effective.”
He caught Deb’s eye. “Do you have confidence in me?”
She studied the point of the pencil. It was perfectly sharpened. “Yes.”
She let him absorb this, then put the pencil down and opened up a folder. “But we think you need a break from Homicide, Ethan.”
Oh, shit. Sweat pricked under his arms.
“We don’t want to waste your skills. Cold Case needs someone with your expertise. You can report to Sergeant Salter on Monday.”
His fingers tightened around the file folder. They were taking him off the hot seat. He couldn’t blame them.
And part of him, a small part of him, was grateful.
His brain was so screwed up right now he doubted his abilities, as well.
Deb stood. “I hope you don’t view this as a demotion. It’s not.”
He gave a brusque nod. “It could be worse, I suppose. You could have put me back on patrol. And since it’s Cold Case, all the bodies are decomposed, right? I won’t have to go to any more autopsies. At least fresh ones.”
“Always looking on the bright side, aren’t you, Ethan,” Deb said, a smile tugging her mouth. “Now get out of here.”
“What do you do in the winter?” Kate asked Eddie, watching him light a post–celebratory dinner cigarette as they sat at an outdoor patio on Halifax’s waterfront. Only a few restaurants allowed smoking nowadays, and strictly on the patio. When the weather got cold, the patios were closed.
He grinned. “I just put on my long underwear and huddle outside with the hoi polloi. You’d be amazed how many clients I get.”
“So the bar society took pity on you and reinstated your license?”
Eddie took a deep drag, then coughed. “Yes…” He sputtered, and sipped his water.
“How did you get the money, if I may be so indelicate?”
He grinned. “Our client paid me. As soon as the charge was dropped, McGrath Barrett couriered a check to Randall. I’m officially back in the black with the law society. And they decided they’d been overly onerous. So they’ve given me my license. And—” he waved his cigarette, almost hitting the edge of the umbrella tilted over their table “—thanks to all the publicity on this case, I’m getting quite a few new clients.” He tapped his ash into his coffee saucer. “You wouldn’t be interested in joining me, would you, Kate? We could go fifty-fifty. Bent Lange.” He took another drag on his cigarette and squinted at her through the smoke.
Kate smiled, regret in her eyes. “Thank you, Eddie. But I have to refuse.”
He shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask. You’re good at this. Your first criminal matter and not only do you get the charges dropped against your client, but you also figured out who the real killer was. Bravo.” He saluted her with his cigarette. Ash, still glowing, flicked onto the table.
She grinned. “Not bad for a civil litigation lawyer.”
His expression turned serious. “Have you thought about switching to criminal defense work? You know, you could probably convince the partnership. They’d have a hard time saying no to their golden girl.”
Kate shrugged. She was aware her reputation was larger than life, fueled by her slaying of a serial killer, her whistle-blowing of a tissue-brokering scandal and her successful defense of her managing partner’s murder charge. She’d asked Randall not to mention her role in saving Lucy from drowning. It was too personal, struck too deep a chord. “You know I almost quit McGrath Barrett.”
He raised his brows. “This should be good.”
“I was involved in a case where the expert hired by my corporate client was clearly biased and bullied the plaintiff. I didn’t like representing clients who threw around their money and wore down the plaintiffs. It seemed a perversion of the law. The scales of justice were too heavily weighted in favor of the corporate interest.”
“It’s the way business is done, Kate.”
“I know. So then I got to thinking about it.” Her gut told her that leaving was the wrong thing to do. She’d only been hired permanently in June. It made her feel like a quitter, as if the minute something happened that she didn’t like, she couldn’t stick it out. So she thought long and hard about how she could make a career work at McGrath Barrett without selling her soul. “And I realized that instead of going to a small firm with little resources, I should leverage the resources of a big firm like McGrath Barrett for clients who have nothing.”
Eddie eyed her speculatively through the haze
of smoke streaming from his mouth.
“I spoke to the partners about letting me do more pro bono work.” Even if it meant her total billables were less than other lawyers’, she knew they could not refuse to put their star associate on charity cases. It made the firm positively glow with community goodwill. “They agreed. Of course, I also have to work on regular files, but I told them no more insurance clients.” She gave Eddie an arch look. “I thought maybe you and I could work on some pro bono cases together.”
He nodded slowly. “I’d be delighted to.”
The breeze shifted and tobacco smoke drifted in her face. She coughed. “But I didn’t survive a serial killer to die of secondhand smoke.”
He laughed so hard he choked. He ground out the butt in his napkin. Kate was relieved to see this one wasn’t cloth. “That’s the most compelling argument for quitting I’ve heard so far. But despite your success in the courtroom, it won’t change anything.” He sipped his now cold coffee. “Kate, do you know why I smoke?”
His eyes were sad. Kate regretted making a joke about it.
“Because it keeps me busy. Ever since my wife and daughter left, I’ve had nothing but time to reflect on the mess I’ve made of my life. For an alcoholic, that’s an invitation to disaster.” He played with the handle of his coffee cup. “I hit rock bottom two years ago. I didn’t want to end my life there. So I dried myself out even as my wife decided she’d taken enough crap from me. I attend AA meetings five days a week. I also have a sponsor who checks in with me. And right now, even though I shouldn’t be indulging in addictive habits, I smoke until I can get to the next stage of my recovery.” He gave her a small smile.
The waitress arrived with the check. Eddie insisted on treating Kate. “To our first case together.” He signed the credit card slip with a flourish. His hand tremored just a little.
Kate didn’t look away fast enough. Eddie gave a wry smile. “Just a little reminder to keep me on the straight and narrow. I hope my recovery will come sooner rather than later. But until then, bear with me.”
Kate smiled at him. The guy had grown on her. A lot. “With pleasure,” she said.
They walked along the waterfront. Neither was quite ready to end the evening. The temperature was perfect, a slight breeze lifting Kate’s hair. She looked at the harbor.
It was calm. Smooth. Benign.
She thought of diving beneath the cold water of Prospect Bay. Of searching for Lucy in the vast blackness.
Of knowing that if she failed to find her, she’d be haunted for the rest of her life.
But she had found her.
She had saved her.
That was something.
Actually, it was everything.
Acknowledgments
I wholeheartedly thank those who took time from their busy schedules to share their expertise with me.
Detective Sergeant Mark MacDonald, of the Halifax Regional Police Department, who was instrumental in helping me understand the police procedure for the murder investigation in this book. I enjoy our “what if” sessions!
Detective Constable Curtis Pyke, Forensic Identification Unit, of the Halifax Regional Police Department, who explained the forensic identification process for the murder investigation, and demonstrated—to my great delight—some methods in the bowels of the police station.
Dr. Martin Bullock, MD, FRCP, who has helped me yet again with the forensic pathology aspects of the case.
Paul Carver, LLB, and Shauna MacDonald, LLB, who guided me through the legal procedure and took my last-minute phone calls with grace and patience!
Any mistakes in this book are mine alone and I apologize to my experts in advance.
I would also like to thank my editor, the fabulous Valerie Gray. She is a joy to work with and it is my privilege to be one of her authors.
In addition, there are so many people at MIRA Books to whom I am indebted for their work on this series, including: editor Miranda Indrigo; the incredibly talented designer of my covers, Sean Kapitain; Alana Burke and MIRA’s marketing team, who have put tremendous effort into getting my series out there; the sales team for sharing their enthusiasm to great effect; the digital marketing team for creating a terrific trailer; my publicist, Michelle Renaud, who has graciously answered my many novice questions.
I also want to thank my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, of Prospect Agency. She is always there to help me.
I’ve been blessed with friends old and new. The support I’ve received from them has touched me deeply. Thank you.
And as always, my deepest thanks go to my family. You are my joy.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7901-2
INDEFENSIBLE
Copyright © 2011 by Pamela Callow.
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