by Meryl Sawyer
She hopped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, where she found her robe. "Oh, Lordy," she moaned at her reflection.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes and her hair was a mass of tangles, but she looked as happy as Molly after a bowl of stinky fish. She quickly splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth. Rob appeared with a mug of coffee as she struggled to get the comb through her hair. "It'll be a week before you get a brush through the back of your hair." He gave her a triumphant smile. "After last night."
She giggled, accepting the mug with a heartfelt smile. "You rat."
The words wiped the grin off his face. "Come on. Let's talk."
She followed him to the kitchen with a growing sense of apprehension that she kept telling herself was unfounded. She'd been paranoid, thinking everyone was against her, and she'd been wrong.
I'm the one.
Yes. As wild as it seemed, Rob Tagett was the one for her. The only one. If she'd had any doubts about that last night changed her mind.
He faced her with the hard-edged reporter's expression that she remembered so well from the days when she'd first seen him around the courthouse. "I don't know any way to say this but to be completely honest."
A primitive warning sounded in her brain. Suddenly she felt as hollow as his voice sounded.
"I'm not going to be seeing you anymore."
The statement was so cold, so matter-of-fact, it caused her heart to lurch painfully as she stood transfixed, staring at him. Could this be Rob, the man who'd so tenderly made love to her all night? There had to be an explanation. Then it dawned on her.
"We can work around Zach. I realize that he'll take most of your time. I won't be able to stay overnight or have you here because you'll need to be with him, but—"
Rob raised his hand to cut her off. "It's not just Zach. It's…"
He seemed to be searching for words that wouldn't come, and she heard his harsh intake of breath. The transformation took but the flicker of her lashes. Suddenly, anything that had been between them was gone.
"It's Ellen, isn't it?" she asked, bitterness underscoring each word despite her valiant attempt to remain calm. "Zach said you were getting back together. Is it true?"
His gaze, so level before, shifted to Molly, who was at his feet, rubbing shamelessly against his legs. "Yeah. Ellen and I are going to give it another try. Zach needs both his parents right now."
"What about us?" she whispered, positive if her voice rose she'd be screaming at him. "What about last night?"
30
By the time Dana reached her office she'd stopped trembling. Hurt had flared into anger, making her so furious she could hardly think. How dare Rob spend the night with her—then blithely announce that he was going back to his wife? She should have known better than to trust him. Every fiber of her being had warned her again and again, but she hadn't listened. Well, look at it as a valuable lesson. Lead with your head, not your heart.
Still his parting words echoed through her soul.
"What about last night?" he'd said, parroting back her own words with the emphasis on what.
The air suspended in her lungs, she had salvaged what little of her pride remained and shoved him out the door, slamming it so hard Molly ran and hid under the sofa.
"That jerk!" she said to the security camera scanning the entrance to the courthouse. The words didn't bring much comfort as she shouldered her way through the swinging doors into the building.
She smiled bravely at the attendant monitoring the metal detector, but her smile vanished long before she reached her office.
Betrayal whiplashed through her, bringing a sheen of tears to her eyes. The ache in her chest swelled to a sob. It took all her willpower not to break down as she passed people in the hall. Her tightly knit emotions unraveled like an old sweater, a host of conflicting emotions warring inside her.
She loved him. No. She hated him.
She had to hate him. It was the only way to survive. Anger and work, she decided. The emotional vise eased a bit as she thought about work. Grinding, hard work that would keep her busy until she was ready to drop was the solution.
Inside her chambers she gazed morosely at the mountain of papers on her desk. Thank God she wasn't due in juvenile court until afternoon, she thought, looking at the Wyland sea-life print. She wasn't certain how long she'd been staring at the picture when she heard a knock.
Vanessa entered and sat in one of the wing chairs opposite Dana's desk. "I tried to reach you last night, but your phone was out of order… or something."
Dana came around the desk to sit beside her sister, not wanting to tell her that Rob had taken the phone off the hook so they wouldn't be disturbed. She should be able to discuss this with Vanessa, she decided as she sat down. If there was distance between them, wasn't that due to her inability to talk about her feelings?
"Rob came over—" Dana began, then broke off, not knowing how to explain what happened.
"I knew it." Vanessa smiled. "He's crazy about you."
"He's crazy, all right, crazy enough to tell me we're 'committed,' then go back to his ex-wife." The wellspring of hurt that she'd been suppressing erupted with startling vehemence. "He's a real bastard."
"Why would he go back to her—after all this time?"
"His son's having problems. Rob thinks a solid family will help."
"But they've been divorced for years."
"It doesn't make sense, does it? But what do you expect? He's a man."
Vanessa studied her for a moment, her dazzling blue eyes solemn. "I thought we'd worked through all that when we talked. Don't tar all men with the same brush."
"You're right," Dana admitted with a sigh. "Garth's a treasure, and Pinsky and Hwang are wonderful too. I guess I just don't have luck with my personal relationships."
"I suspect something is troubling Rob," Vanessa said. "That's why I came to see you. Last night I overheard Garth talking on the phone about evidence. When I asked him about it he said it was confidential. I may be mistaken, but I thought he was talking about evidence against Rob."
"I don't give a damn about him."
Vanessa put her hand on Dana's shoulder and gazed into her eyes. "There's one thing Garth taught me that's priceless. Face the truth and it isn't nearly as frightening. Once I accepted what Big Daddy had done, I could deal with it. You need to accept the possibility that Rob has chosen his ex-wife over you. Don't deny it by saying you don't care—when you do."
It took Dana a minute to bring herself to say, "You're right. I care about him, that's why I'm so angry. That's why this hurts so much."
"Do you love him?"
"Yes," she admitted, experiencing an overwhelming sense of relief. Sharing this with her sister wouldn't take away the pain, but the ache eased a bit. "How could I be so wrong about him?"
"Trust your heart," Vanessa said quietly. "If you think he's the one, then I'll bet he is. Everything will work out, you'll see."
The one. The words brought a too familiar stab of regret. Of longing. Of loneliness too long denied. Of what might have been, but was never to be.
Vanessa rose. "Why don't you come by for dinner tonight?"
Dana wished her sister the best and truly believed she would find happiness with Garth, but tonight she couldn't bear to be with the lovebirds. "There's a sunset service for Lillian Hurley. I'm going there, then home to sleep."
Vanessa started to protest, but stopped. "Call me if you need me. And definitely let me know if Rob's in trouble. No matter what happened between you two, he's really helped us."
Vanessa left, and Dana called for Gus Mahala, certain her bailiff would know the latest courthouse gossip. Gus was the open, gregarious type, who inspired confidences even though he didn't gossip himself. Not only that, Gus had numerous relatives sprinkled throughout the court system, giving him lots of contacts.
Gus came through the door, beaming. "You need me?"
She motioned for him to close the door, not wanting anyo
ne to overhear them. "I don't usually listen to gossip, but I heard a disturbing rumor. I wonder if you would help me verify it?" She inhaled a calming breath as he nodded. "Is Rob Tagett in some kind of trouble?"
"My cousin Theo let it slip after a few brews," Gus confessed. "Don't mention his name. He'll lose his job in the police department."
"I won't say a word."
"I don't know much. Theo just said Tagett's going to be charged with the Panama Jack's rapes."
Totally astonished, Dana vaulted to her feet. A thousand possibilities had whirled through her mind, but not this. Never this. "That's impossible. They can't have any evidence."
"I dunno. They must have something. The police department sent the case to the DA."
Dana couldn't suppress a shudder. The police department sent only cases with enough evidence to prosecute to the district attorney. What could they possibly have on Rob?
Propping himself up on one elbow, Rob watched his son struggling with his windsurfer at Ho'okipa Beach on the north shore not far from his house. Rob had left Dana's early that morning, disgusted with himself and thoroughly disheartened. Christ, he was a real bastard.
I love you.
Dana's words echoed through his head, touching the secret reaches of his soul. The way she'd whispered the words, almost a plea, threatened to bring tears to his eyes. He longed to change things, but wishing and hoping wouldn't make any difference. If he was going to be arrested—for damn sure it looked that way—he wasn't going to drag her down with him.
"Okay, did you have to be such a schmuck about it?" he muttered to himself.
Letting her go was the hardest damn thing he'd ever done. He honestly hadn't had a clue what to say until she mentioned him getting back together with Ellen. That gave him the out he needed, all right. He'd been a real prick, but he didn't have a choice.
He gazed at the windsurfers, trying to forget what a bastard he'd been, as Zach stumbled onshore, dragging his windsurfer, clearly discouraged. He collapsed beside Rob saying, "Nukin' winds, man. Never seen anything like it."
Rob almost chuckled. Nukin' winds—killer winds. What did Zach expect? Ho'okipa Beach was the windsurfing mecca. Just because Zach could ride the waves in California didn't mean he could cut it here—without a lot of work.
"Aren't you going back?" Rob asked as his son reached for his backpack.
"Nah. I'm reading."
"Really? What?"
Zach held up Stephen King's The Stand. "Dana gave it to me. Saved me from having to talk to Mom's nerdy friends in Maui."
Dana? Rob leaned back and studied the pure white strafers that clouded the north shore's sky, while his son buried his nose in the book. Rob closed his eyes, hearing the mournful sound of the door slamming when Dana threw him out. It echoed over and over and over, reminding him of all he'd lost.
"What did you think of Dana?" Rob ventured.
Zach didn't look up. "She's okay… I guess."
Okay didn't come close, but Rob refused to draw his son into a comparison of two distinctly different women—Ellen and Dana Hamilton. In his heart, though, he knew the difference.
"Zach, did you tell Dana that your mother and I are getting back together?"
His son studied the page for a time before looking up. Rob pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head so he could look directly into Zach's eyes.
"Yeah. I wanted to scare her off."
"Why? I barely mentioned her."
"I could tell that you're hot for her. I wanted to get rid of her." Zach began reading his book again.
Rob reached out and pulled it away. "Explain why you lied to Dana." He didn't mention that this lie had given him the out he wanted—when he desperately needed it.
Zach sat up, his spine rigid, his arms locking around his knees. "I knew what would happen. I've been down that trail, dude."
Dude? Rob seethed, imagining what would have happened to him had he called his father "dude." "Tell me."
Zach lifted his shoulders as if words escaped him. Of course, he didn't realize that this might be one of the last private conversations they'd have for—who knew?—weeks or months or, God forbid, years.
"Okay," Zach exploded. "I hate Mom's nerdy boyfriend and his two prissy daughters. Nuthin' I do around them is right. Nuthin'."
Rob knew Ellen had been dating a man who had two young daughters. He could imagine how different they'd be from a teenage boy. "I know what you mean. Girls that age are numbnuts. What does that have to do with Dana?"
Zach buried his fist in the sand, then glared at Rob. "Mom's going to marry the nerd. Then you're going to marry Dana and have some dumb baby."
I'll be left alone. Rob read between the lines. He reached over and ruffled his son's hair. "I'm not marrying Dana, and I'm not having any more children."
It hurt to say it, but it was true. Somewhere in his deepest self he'd seen himself with another child— like a young Zach—Dana's child. That wasn't to be, and it hurt more than he ever could have imagined.
"You're not marrying Dana? Why? She's way cool."
Rob almost smiled at the contradictions in his son's adolescent logic, proof positive that teenagers were trapped in the Twilight Zone. Zach liked Dana, but he was afraid that she'd have a child who'd steal his father's affection. It was unbearably sad. How he remembered his own youth! He'd enjoyed a loving family. Even now, in his darkest hour, their upbringing gave him strength.
Rob decided he had to level with his son—even if he risked losing him. "Dana's a damn good judge. I don't want her to jeopardize her career by being involved with me."
Zach measured him with wary eyes. "I don't get it."
"Do you remember what made your mother leave me?" Rob wasn't entirely certain what Ellen had told Zach after they'd moved to L.A. He'd seen his son many times, yet they'd never discussed this. It reminded him of Dana and how she'd never discussed Hank Rawlins with her sister. When the hurt was deep enough, it was nearly impossible to talk about it.
"They said you raped somebody, but you didn't."
Rob silently applauded Ellen. Despite the energy she'd put into keeping him apart from Zach, at least she'd told him the truth. "Right. Well, it seems that I'm about to be charged with rape again."
"Unfuckingbelievable! You'd never do that."
Rob's throat closed up at the unqualified vote of confidence. God, he loved this boy with his oversize body and convoluted logic.
"Zach, let me tell you what's happening." His son listened intently as Rob described what he knew about the latest accusation.
"Just like Stephen King," Zach responded. "It's the stand between good and evil. That's what's happening to you."
"You're right. I have to take a stand, but it'll be difficult with you here. I may have to send you back to L.A."
Zach catapulted to his feet. "Fuck that shit. I'm stayin' right here with you. I'm going to help."
"I know you—" The cellular telephone in Rob's satchel rang and he grabbed it, hoping it was Garth. It was.
"Good news," Garth said. "You're not going to be arrested tomorrow. They're waiting until after the weekend. Monday's the day."
Rob slowly punched the end button, uncertain what this news meant. The DA went over cases recommended by the police with a fine-tooth comb. They rarely tried anything but slam-dunk cases. The rest they plea-bargained or dropped; it was simply too costly to proceed.
The Panama Jack's rapist was different. He'd terrorized the community and—more important— threatened tourists. That case could go to trial on a lot less evidence. Still, the DA would want to make certain they had enough to bring in a guilty verdict before risking his precious conviction record.
What evidence could they possibly have?
31
The memorial service for Lillian Hurley was held in the garden of the Society to Preserve Hawaii's Native Plants and Flowers. Dana couldn't imagine a more fitting site. For years Lillian had worked tirelessly for the organization. Dana moved through the mourners
searching for Lillian's daughter, but Fran Martin wasn't among the small group gathered under the cooling shade of a hala tree. Just as well, Dana thought. Her temper had a hair trigger today; no telling what she might do to the woman.
Dr. Winston walked up to her. "We'd like you to say a few words about Lillian right after the director makes the presentation."
Inwardly Dana groaned. She wasn't prepared to speak; she was afraid she'd burst into tears if she tried. "What about her daughter—"
"She had Lillian cremated and left town. The director of the society made the funeral arrangements," he said, shaking his head. "You were closer to Lillian than anyone. Can't you say a few words?"
Dana fingered the lehua lei that was draped over one arm. "I'll do my best."
The director motioned for the group to join him in front of a statue of King Kamehameha, which was a smaller replica of the towering statue that stood in front of the government offices downtown near the courthouse.
"We're gathered to honor the memory of one of our dearest friends," the director began. "Lillian Hurley was a founding member of this society. Just after the war she recognized that Hawaii's unique plants and flowers might be wiped from the face of this earth unless we took action to preserve our heritage of plants and flowers that exist nowhere else on earth except in these blessed islands."
He draped a ten-foot-long lei of rare white epidendrum orchids with throats of deep scarlet over King Kamehameha's outstretched arm. Each June on the anniversary of the king's birthday, hundreds of tribute leis were placed on the majestic statue in the center of Honolulu. A lei here, on this statue, was a similar honor for someone who'd made a special contribution to Hawaiian culture.
"Before we pray for dear Lillian, her close friend Judge Dana Hamilton would like to say a few words."
No, I wouldn't, Dana thought as she moved to the front of the group, a droplet of perspiration trickling down between her breasts. She'd much rather keep her thoughts about Lillian to herself, but she didn't have any choice. She walked carefully, taking her time, not wanting to step on the lei that trailed down from her arm and brushed the diachondra, trying to gather her thoughts for a fitting tribute. As she looked up over the heads of the group, hoping for inspiration, she saw a man across the enormous garden standing in the shadows of the building's arcade.
