Even though he hadn't looked in her direction, her plea must have gotten through, because Dylan straightened his shoulders, clenched his jaw and drew a deep breath. "I'd like to stay and chat," he said, his voice amazingly close to normal, one arm over his bent knee, eyes squinted against the morning sun, "but I've got to get your star witness to the Justice Building." He shoved himself to his feet, refusing Elise's help.
"You always were quite an actor," Sebastian said in a low, smooth voice.
Dylan threw the blood-soaked tissues to the ground. "Never as good as you."
"I'm exactly what I appear to be."
"What's that? A murderer?"
Sebastian smiled, and it seemed full of such innate evil that a chill moved down Elise's spine. Once again she wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome.
"You're referring to Melissa, no doubt," Sebastian said.
Beside her, Dylan stiffened.
"What a beautiful woman," Sebastian taunted. "It must be hard to live with yourself after what happened to her."
Dylan's rising anger was like a charged field around them. Above, gulls wheeled and cried, their shadows flitting across the ground.
Sebastian went in for the kill. "It must be tough, knowing she took a bullet that was meant for you. Knowing she's dead because of you. She's dead, and you're alive."
There was a huge roaring in Elise's head. The world came tumbling in around her.
Melissa was dead? Because of Dylan ... ? Sebastian's words staggered her. All along she'd assumed Melissa was an old girlfriend. Someone Dylan no longer saw. But dead...?
She fought the shocked haze that had settled around her. Her vision cleared enough for her to see the stark pain in Dylan's face. Then the pain vanished, changed, was replaced by rage.
With no apparent thought for his safety, Dylan lunged at Sebastian. "You killed her, you murdering son of a-"
Before Dylan could cover the distance between himself and Sebastian, Claude intercepted, taking Dylan by surprise, punching him in the jaw with one beefy fist.
Dylan went down for the second time.
Dylan was big, but Claude dwarfed him. Before he could regain his footing, Claude sent another blow to Dylan's stomach. Dylan went crashing backward, into the car.
"Claude!" Elise screamed. "Stop it! Stop it!" She started to run, ready to grab Claude from behind, when Sebastian's hand lashed out, his fingers wrapping around her arm, restraining her.
"That's enough, Claude," he said, his voice ringing with quiet authority. Claude immediately released his hold on Dylan, who slid to the ground, doubled over, coughing, a hand to his stomach.
Sebastian pulled Elise around to face him, his black eyes boring into hers.. "You'll come with me," he said quietly, so no one else could hear. "Otherwise..." His eyes slid toward Claude and Dylan. His meaning was clear.
With heart-wrenching clarity, Elise saw what she had to do. For Dylan's sake she had to continue to play the part of Sebastian's girlfriend.
She looked up at Sebastian, trying hard to appear calm while, inside, she was dying. She nodded.
Behind her, she was sure Dylan was watching. She could feel his eyes on her back. She turned, forcing herself to look at him. His back was against the car, blood trickling from one corner of his mouth and down the side of his face, one hand still pressed to his stomach, his chest rising and falling.
"Don't go with him, Elise," he gasped.
"Dylan, I'm so sorry...."
She read the disbelief and denial in his eyes. But then his face hardened, his expression changing to comprehension followed by anger.
I'm doing this for you, Dylan. Please understand.
"Claude, have George bring the car around," Sebastian ordered. "We have a trial to get to."
Tires crunched behind them; then Sebastian's limo pulled up, its powerful engine purring. Claude got out and opened the door, waiting.
Sebastian smiled at Dylan. "You must be losing your touch with the ladies."
Dylan didn't even try to get up. It was almost as if he'd thought it all through and decided there was nothing here worth fighting for. Instead his icy gaze moved from Sebastian to Elise. And looking into his predatory eyes, she felt as if she'd been dealt a staggering blow. No longer were they the eyes that had looked at her with tenderness. Now they were the eyes of a stranger. No, worse-an enemy. This was a Dylan she didn't know, had never seen.
"I haven't lost my touch with the ladies," he said, his voice as cold and unforgiving as his eyes. "Just whores."
A gasp escaped Elise; then everything became a blur. She felt Sebastian's hand on her arm, directing her toward the car. Somehow her brain sent a signal to her feet, making them move. Sharp bits of gravel jabbed into her bare soles but she hardly felt them. Mechanically she ducked her head and got into the car, sliding across the expanse of soft leather, Sebastian settling in beside her.
George hefted himself into the driver's seat, put the car in gear and pulled away.
Elise had no urge to turn and look behind them. She didn't want to risk seeing Dylan's face. But it really didn't matter, because she knew that his expression of loathing was indelibly stamped in her memory.
Her throat tightened, and she felt a sob rise from somewhere deep inside her. She pressed a hand to her mouth.
"I didn't have his girlfriend killed," Sebastian said. "Dylan was a cop with a lot of enemies. Any number of people could have put out a contract on him."
Elise felt sure that Sebastian was lying. She thought about what Dylan had told her when she'd asked him why he hated Sebastian.
It's better if you don't know.
He'd known she would still tell the truth at the trial. She could never make herself lie under oath. By not telling her, he'd been trying to protect her.
When they reached the highway, Sebastian extended a white handkerchief toward her.
She hesitated, not wanting to take it, not wanting to accept anything from him.
He pressed the cloth into her hand. "You have his blood on your face."
Dylan watched as the taillights of the black limo disappeared up the sandy lane that led to Highway 1.
Damn.
He'd been taken in-hook, line and sinker. Gutted, stuffed and mounted. What a fool. How could he have been ... seduced-yeah, seduced-by a pair of tear-filled blue eyes?
Damn.
She'd used her feminine wiles-wasn't that the corny phrase?-to lure him in, to get him to bring her back to the mainland where Sebastian had been waiting. And it had worked. Man, how it had worked.
Melissa's words came back to him. Someday you're going to meet someone you can really love.
Well, it had happened. And a hell of a lot of good it had done him.
He laughed, the bitter, self-mocking sound tearing at his throat. A deep, slow ache moved through him, a pain that had nothing to do with his head, his bloody lip or his stomach.
He'd almost spilled his guts to her, just about told her he loved her.
Sebastian's whore.
Son of a-
He rammed a tightly clenched fist against the hood of his car. The bitch. The deceitful, sneaking bitch!
Anger fed anger. It boiled in him, giving him strength. He straightened, the dizziness he'd felt earlier gone. His vision was clear. Clearer than it had been in days.
Bitterness ate away at his soul until there was nothing left. Until the old Dylan, the Dylan he'd been a week ago, the cold, heartless Dylan, was back.
For three days Elise practically lived in the fourth floor lobby of the Metro Justice Building. She spent most of her time sitting on a vinyl couch thumbing through magazines she didn't see, drinking cold coffee she didn't taste.
She'd never been to a trial, never served on a jury, never gotten so much as a traffic ticket. The only exposure she'd had to such things were the few times she'd watched Perry Mason reruns on television. And even then, all the legal jargon had simply flown over her head. It just hadn't interested her.
&n
bsp; She hadn't realized that witnesses weren't allowed to hear any of the other testimonies or that the prosecution always presented its case first. That meant she had to wait. And wait some more.
By late afternoon of the first day the prosecution had finished and court had been dismissed. On the second day the defense presented its case. Now, on the third day into the trial, the defense was still presenting its case. And Elise still hadn't testified.
She was sitting on the vinyl couch, wearing her tailored navy-blue suit and matching shoes. A far cry from the waif Sebastian had escorted to his hotel three days ago-three days she'd spent worrying about Dylan, wondering if he would try something crazy. Every time she heard footsteps, she looked up, secretly hoping it would be him.
But he didn't come.
And now she just wanted the trial to be over. After that ... maybe she would go to Iguana Bay to see Dylan. To try to explain ... But it would be hard. She didn't know if she could face him, knowing he loved someone else.
Melissa.
Now Elise understood what had driven him to such desperate measures. Why he'd kidnapped her.
In her somewhat protected life, she had never been exposed to evil people. She'd read about them in the paper, and heard about them on the evening news. But she herself had remained untouched. Until Sebastian.
She didn't doubt that he had done what Dylan had accused him of. But even so, there was no way she could make herself lie under oath. She hadn't been brought up that way-to lie before God.
He must have loved her very much....
Melissa's death was the reason for Dylan's breakdown, the reason he'd hit the wall, as he'd put it. Her death had created the darkness that surrounded him, the darkness inside him. It had etched caution so deep that he couldn't trust, didn't want to feel again. It had made him give up on life.
For as long as she lived, she didn't think she would ever forget the naked pain in his eyes when Sebastian had taunted him with Melissa's death. It had almost killed Elise to see it, had driven a pain through her heart that was still there.
And for as long as she lived, she would never forget the expression on Dylan's face when she'd left with Sebastian. First there had been disbelief, then acceptance. The acceptance was what really hurt. He hadn't really been surprised when she'd turned her back on him. It had almost seemed as if he'd expected it.
Elise had assured Claude that Dylan hadn't hurt her. That statement was perhaps the biggest deception of all. When she'd seen Dylan's eyes harden, she'd been left with a wound she feared would never heal.
Why hadn't he seen that she'd done it for him?
"Miss Ramsey... ?"
She looked up to find the courtroom bailiff standing beside her. "It's time for your testimony, Miss Ramsey."
And so she took the stand. She placed her hand on the leather-bound Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
That was what it was all about, wasn't it? Adrian Sebastian might be a criminal, might be a murderer, but Elise Ramsey would tell the truth about the night Harry Zevon was murdered.
Sitting on the hard oak chair, she gave her testimony as simply and concisely as possible. She told them how she'd gone to the party and Sebastian had offered to give her a ride to her motel. How she'd at first declined, then accepted.
Why, oh, why, had she accepted?
"What time did you arrive back at your own hotel room, Miss Ramsey?"
"Just before midnight."
"Are you absolutely certain?"
"Yes. I checked my watch to make sure it agreed with the room clock. Then I turned on the television. The public broadcasting channel was just signing off."
"Thank you. That will be all."
After that she was cross-examined, but her story remained unshakable.
And that was it. She was done. It was over.
It turned out that she was the last witness before Adrian Sebastian. An hour later Sebastian's fate was in the hands of the jury.
Time moved slowly.
The defense attorney seemed pleased and hopeful at the amount of time the decision was taking.
Three hours later the jury returned and settled into their seats. The courtroom fell silent, waiting for the verdict.
The jury foreman unfolded the paper and read, "Not guilty."
Elise sat there, ears humming, feeling blank and empty. She heard Sebastian's triumphant laugh, saw his attorney shaking his hand, saw Claude grinning.
She had to get out of the courtroom before Sebastian looked in her direction. She didn't want to talk to him ever again.
Moving like someone much older than her age, Elise got to her feet and dissolved into the crowd, following the flow of people down the hall to the stainless-steel elevators. The escalators were faster, but she had time. The rest of her life ...
When she stepped outside, the bright Florida sunshine mocked her. Hot dog and ice-cream vendors lined the wide walkway, their umbrellas bright and cheery. She longed for one of those gloom-filled midwestern days. Days that were as gray and heavy as her heart.
She bought gum from a man in a wheelchair..
She'd done the right thing, hadn't she? She'd told the truth. And she certainly wasn't the only witness for the defense. There had been others. It wasn't as if the entire trial had hinged on her testimony... or had it?
From above, the sun's heat beat down on her head; from below, it penetrated the soles of her shoes. But she felt cold. As if all the life had been sapped from her. "Miss Ramsey..."
The voice was deep.
She turned.
The man coming toward her wasn't anyone she recognized. She would have remembered that red hair, those freckles.... And yet ... there was something rather familiar about him.
His shadow fell across her face. "Congratulations," he told her, stopping a few feet from her at the top of the pink marble steps.
"I don't think I should be congratulated for telling the truth."
His red eyebrows lifted in something she recognized as mock surprise, but she could sense an underlying anger in him that seemed at odds with his all-American face.
"I'm not congratulating you for telling the truth. I'm congratulating you for helping set a murderer free."
With that he turned and walked away.
A reporter. He must be a reporter for one of those tabloid magazines, looking for some tacky story.
But then she suddenly knew why he looked familiar. She'd seen his picture on Dylan's wall. He was the red-headed teenager. Dylan's friend.
Elise stood there, people jostling her, too dazed to move. She didn't see Sebastian coming until he was right beside her.
"Thanks for the defense," he told her. "You really pulled it off."
"I told the truth."
He laughed. "Yes. Yes, you did. You're a good girl." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants, the sun reflecting off his greasy, slicked-back hair. "Need a ride?"
"No." She took a step back. Taking a ride from Sebastian was what had gotten her into this mess. If she hadn't accepted that ride, she wouldn't have been his alibi. But then, she would never have met Dylan....
"The cops in this town are really stupid. A guy can get away with murder here."
What was he saying? That he'd actually murdered Harry Zevon?
"Sure you don't need a ride? Your clothes are still at The Bastion. Come on back with me. Stay a while-as long as you like. Enjoy Miami." He rocked on the heels of his alligator shoes. "I can show you a better time than Davis ever could."
She didn't bother to answer. She just turned and walked away.
Chapter 16
Adrian Sebastian stood on the courthouse steps and watched as Elise hailed a cab. He watched as she slid inside; ankles and knees together, watched as her shapely legs disappeared behind the door. In the nearest lane of traffic was Sebastian's limo. George was at the wheel, waiting. As soon as the cab with Elise Ramsey in it edged into the flow of traffic, the limo took its place at th
e curb.
And that was it. She was out of his life.
Not that he cared. She'd served her purpose.
He smiled to himself. He'd carried it off, just as he knew he would. It had been a cinch. People were so easy to manipulate. What an idiot that Harry Zevon had been. He'd thought he could get away with blackmail. Here the guy made porno flicks, and he'd threatened to rat on Sebastian. Of course, there had been that girl who'd died when the acting had gotten a little too real. But those things happened. He had to have realism in his movies.
Elise Ramsey would have been good in one of his movies, he thought with a twinge of regret. But there were a million others like her out there. Women with no ties, no connections. Looking for a fast buck. Looking for fame and fortune. The kind of women who wouldn't be missed if things got rough.
A reporter spotted him.
Microphones were suddenly shoved in his face; camera shutters clicked. Someone asked how he felt about the jury decision. Claude stepped forward and tried to intervene, but Sebastian held up one hand and calmly answered, "Justice prevails."
Someone shook Sebastian's hand. He smiled and grasped it firmly, answering a few more questions. Then he was able to get away, to start moving toward the limo.
It was too bad about Dylan Davis. Sebastian had liked him. Less than a year ago, Sebastian had begun to think of him as a close friend.
As a child, Sebastian had had a friend. Trent. Trent had been his name.
The memory made Sebastian frown. Trent had been disloyal, just like Dylan. Just like Harry. He'd threatened to tell the police about a billfold Sebastian had stolen.
That was when Sebastian had discovered how easy it was to kill someone. Afterward there had been a feeling of euphoric release that was better than any artificial high he'd ever experienced.
Claude opened the limo door. Sebastian ducked his head and settled himself inside.
After Dylan's girlfriend had been killed by that moron hit man, Sebastian had thought it would be fun to torment Dylan by letting him live. It gave Sebastian more pleasure to know Dylan was alive and suffering, wallowing in guilt, looking down the road at a life that would be spent watching his back. But he hadn't realized that Davis was still a threat. He'd almost screwed everything up.
Theresa Weir - Iguana Bay Page 16
