by Jan Coffey
“I’m sorry. I’m a mess.” She wiped at the tears and pulled on her sunglasses. “What are you doing here?”
Cars were trying to pull around his truck.
“I’ve come to pick up my date, remember?” He took Léa’s hand and started for the idling vehicle. “Come on.”
She smiled as he held the door for her. “It’s early. It’s only 11:30. How did you know I was down here?”
He went around and got behind the wheel. “Heather called and told me.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” he said. “After you left the house, Sarah Rand called and tried to get hold of you on your cell phone.”
“She did?”
“She asked Heather to have you call her here.” He took out a piece of paper. “Heather got hold of me and passed on the message.”
“She must not want the case.”
Mick squeezed her hand. “It could only be good news. Hadn’t you left it with her that you would call her this afternoon?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would she call if she didn’t want to handle the case?” He handed her his cell phone. “Why don’t you call her right now and find out.”
“I can call from the house.”
“We are not stopping there. We’re going straight to the hotel.”
She shot him an anxious look. “Maybe I’ll call from there.”
“I’m afraid you won’t have any time for phone calls. I am planning on taking up every minute we have alone together.”
He saw the blush that had crept into her beautiful cheeks. The recollection of her, naked and wrapped around him, rushed back. This morning, more than anything else, he’d wanted to take her back up to his bedroom and take his time making love to her again. He had to put those plans on hold, when they heard the shower running in Heather’s bathroom.
“Look, Mick. I’m serious now...”
“So am I! I’ve had a hell of a time focusing on any work this morning. This keeps up, I’ll have to go into some other line of business.” Mick saw the trace of a smile, but he could tell she was still very tense. “Maybe marketing. Yeah, we could start a whole new ad campaign for clothes dryers. We could even sell accessories to go along with them. Cushions for the top. First aid kits with lots of gauze for wrapping and unwrapping your partner. And towels. Very skimpy towels.”
“I’d buy anything with you in them.”
Her quiet remark made Mick’s loins tighten. The light at the intersection turned yellow. Though he usually would have run the thing, he now stopped the truck and reached for her.
A sigh escaped Léa when he crushed his mouth on hers. In the next instant, she was kissing him back with enough hunger and passion to drive him right over the edge. When the light turned green, an impatient driver behind them tapped on his horn.
Mick reluctantly ended the kiss. “I’m going to break all kinds of land speed records getting us to that hotel room.”
“Then I guess I’d better call that lawyer now.”
Mick saw her hand tremble as she punched in the number. He tried to keep his attention on the road. She said few words, but her voice was strong.
As she spoke to the attorney, he found himself once again admiring her courage and her ability to face challenges despite the distractions. And Mick knew he was the distraction now. Not that he would change a thing, even if he could. She was inching her way under his skin, and he loved the feel of it. The feel of her.
Sarah seemed to be doing most of the talking. When Léa finally ended the call and turned to him, the look on her face made him pull off onto the shoulder.
She undid her seatbelt and slid across into his arms. “She thinks there is hope. More than just hope. She thinks there are real grounds for getting a new trial.”
Mick held her tight for a minute before she pulled back, misty-eyed.
“What else did she say?”
Léa clutched his hand. “Before she even read the trial transcripts, she said that Ted’s lack of cooperation and his attempt to kill himself in prison might give us grounds for appealing the death penalty. She said state-assisted suicide doesn’t go over big these days. But now, having read through the material, she thinks Browning’s arguably ineffectual defense work provides even more possibilities for appeal. Beyond that, Sarah suspects there might be evidence regarding Marilyn’s murder that was not handed over to the defense by the prosecutor’s office. There is nothing in there about her lifestyle or others who might have had a motive to kill her. Very little evidence of the crime scene, other than what pointed at Ted, was presented in court. She believes that means Browning was asleep or that he just didn’t receive information that he should have. She didn’t want to go into detail about police procedures over the phone, but she thinks there is a lot to work with there. Bottom line, she’s very optimistic about getting a new trial.”
“Sounds like she’s going to take the case?”
Léa pulled back and wiped her face. “Not yet. At least, not until after we meet with Ted tomorrow. She said she wants the two of us to talk to him before she’ll give me her final answer.”
“You’re on your way.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.
“I don’t know. What happens if Ted decides to give Sarah the silent treatment, too? What if she decides that if he’s not interested in his own defense, then she is not going to fight for him?”
“I think she wants to meet him so she can get a gut reaction of whether she thinks he is guilty or innocent. If I were a lawyer, I’d want to meet my client before taking a case.”
“I hope you’re right.” Léa unfolded and refolded the piece of paper with the attorney’s phone number. “It’s going to take forever for tomorrow to come.”
Mick’s hand slid onto her bare knee. He gently caressed the silky skin. “It doesn’t have to. I can think of a few distractions to fill the time.”
She gave him a shy smile. “I thought you promised to break the land speed record to the hotel?”
“Buckle your seatbelt, love. You’re in for a ride.”
~~~~
Brian Hughes left the bustling kitchen and passed through the lunchtime crowd in the dining room to take the phone call on his private line in the small office behind the bar.
“Please have some good news for me, Jane,” he pleaded into the phone.
“Sorry, Brian, but there’s been no sign of him around the health club at all this morning. I had to get another trainer to take his 9:30 and 10:45 appointments.”
Using the letter opener, he started ripping open the day’s mail sitting on his desk.
“How about the other stuff, Jane? Weight room? His tanning session? I don’t know, the other places he hangs out there?”
“He was a no show for his regular time in the spa, and nobody has seen him anywhere else on the facility, either. I’m sorry, Brian. I wish I could help you, but…you know…” The woman paused, obviously trying to choose her words carefully. “This is not the first time that Jason has been a no show. Maybe he got hung up someplace. Maybe he’s with family. Or friends, and he forgot to call you.”
Brian knew exactly what she was trying to tell him. She was saying that maybe Jason was cheating on him.
Christ! The bastard was screwing around again and everybody else knew it! Brian felt a lump swell in his chest until he thought he would die. Right there. The pain was tearing at him and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Everyone knew it, but he had been too blind to see it until a couple of years ago, when that bitch Marilyn had made sure he knew.
The photographs were bad enough, but the words in the letter she’d sent him separately had burned themselves into his brain. She’d said, in the most graphic terms, how she’d hired Jason as a weight trainer, and what a time they’d had after-hours. On the weight machines. And on the tanning beds. And in the men’s sauna and shower. And how he used to come up to the cottage she rented on the lake. She’d repeated over and over how obsessed Ja
son seemed to be with her tight ass. She wondered whether Brian really wanted everyone in Stonybrook to see these pictures.
The crazy bitch didn’t care that she was in them. Everything to her was a pissing contest. And if Brian decided to go through with helping Ted, then she wanted him to know he’d pay the price. Period.
“Are you still there, Brian?”
The letter opener slid out of his fingers, and he stared at the deep gashes he’d carved in the surface of the antique wooden desk.
“Yeah. I’m here. Thanks for checking, Jane.” He ran his fingers over the grooves and slid the desk calendar over it. “Will you please call me if he shows up?”
“Sure thing. And Brian…I’m sorry.”
He hung up the phone and for a long time stared at the collection of framed pictures he had around his office. Most of them were of Jason, or they had the handsome sonofabitch in them. His fingers traced the smile of the younger man on a larger frame on the desk. Then abruptly, he turned the picture face down.
“You won’t do this to me again. Do you hear me? You gave me your word, you bastard. That’s the last time I trust you.”
His throat was knotted, and he wanted to die. But the feeling of doom hanging over him—that something was terribly wrong—was almost a source of hope. He knew it was twisted, but he found himself hoping that something had happened to Jason. That he was out there somewhere. Maybe his car broken down or he’d gone off in a ditch. Maybe he was in a coma.
Brian let the noise of the crowd in the restaurant draw him out of the office. He tried to make small talk with some of the regulars. Then he spotted Chief Weir and Sheila having lunch at a quiet table away from the window.
On impulse, he walked to the table.
“I love this stuffed flounder, Brian. What did you—?”
“Excuse me, Sheila.” Brian laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder and turned to Rich. “Chief, how long do you have to wait before you can report a missing person?”
His abrupt question took the police chief by surprise.
“Who’s missing?” Sheila immediately piped in.
“Jason,” he answered.
“I saw him working behind the bar here last night,” Sheila offered.
“I know. He disappeared after that.”
“But that’s less than twelve hours!”
“Are you on the chief’s payroll now?” Brian snapped. “I only asked a simple question. How long do I have to wait before I officially report him missing?”
Rich Weir leaned back in his chair. “It depends. Do you have any suspicion that there might be foul play involved?”
“How would I know that?”
“You tell me. You are the one who’s worried.”
“Do you mean did I see someone put a gun to his head and stuff him in his own trunk before driving away? No, I didn’t see that.”
Brian’s attempt at sarcasm only drew a sharp look from the chief. Between the feeling of betrayal preying on him and the scenario he’d just described, he felt sick to his stomach.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so worried,” he continued. “It’s not like Jason not to tell me where he’s going and when he is coming back. He wouldn’t just drive off like this.”
“Have you called everyone you know?”
Brian knew he couldn’t explain the fear in his gut that something terrible had happened to Jason. He definitely didn’t want to say anything about the lunatic who was out there getting his jollies off by sending pictures of Marilyn and Jason to them.
“I called the health club. He didn’t show up for work today.” He glared in the direction of the kitchen door as two waitresses almost collided going in and coming out. “I have to get back to work.”
“Look, Brian. Without some evidence of foul play or violence, I can’t put his name in the nationwide missing persons computer. Not yet. But there are a few things that both of us can do at this point. First, why don’t you make a list of people to call? Everybody you know or Jason knows. It’s hard to call people and say your friend is missing, but you need to pursue every possibility. While you’re doing that, I’ll put out an ‘overdue motorist’ for him with the area departments. That way, our guys will be on a look out for his car, too.”
“Thanks, Chief. I’ll do what you suggested right now.”
As Brian walked away, he wished he could be satisfied with that. But he wasn’t. That gnawing feeling in his gut was still eating him alive.
~~~~
“Things have certainly shifted your way this past week,” Marilyn’s lawyer commented brightly. “Twice already, Ted’s lost his temper in public, and we have statements from witnesses about his ‘unstable and erratic behavior.’ And all but one of the people who were prepared to speak against you have withdrawn the statements they made.”
“Let me guess. My mother is still holding out.”
“Ahh…yes. And frankly, she could be the most damaging character witness of all.”
Marilyn sat back in the chair and crossed her legs. “Don’t worry, counselor. I’m working on her.”
Chapter 21
The keys, the mail, the phone, the purse, the glasses—all had been dumped on the small table near the door. Stretching from there to the single twin bed, a trail of hastily discarded clothing lay scattered on the floor. In the bed itself, the two of them clung to each other, wrapped in the blissful aftermath of their frenzied lovemaking…and each with a vague fear that if they let go, one of them would end up on the floor.
“So much for going slow.” Mick nibbled on her ear before propping himself up on his elbows to support some of his weight.
Léa wrapped her arms around him, cherishing the feel of him, loving the sensations that continued to ripple through her body. The sanctuary of this moment—thrilled and desired and protected by him—was already etched firmly in her mind.
“At least we made it to the bed,” she said.
“And—amazingly enough—this time I managed to put a condom on.”
As he shifted his weight to the side, Léa felt the warmth leave and the anxiety return. All morning she’d successfully avoided thinking about that—about the consequences of what they’d done earlier.
As one who had always preached to her students the importance of safe sex—and preferably no sex at all until they were older and more secure in their relationships—she’d broken her own rules. But there was no ignoring it, anymore. Despite her uneasiness, there was a very important question that hung unanswered between them.
“I haven’t been physically involved with anyone for a very long time,” she started. “And I’m a firm believer in regular physical check-ups.”
Mick lifted her chin until she was forced to look into his blue eyes. “Since my divorce from Natalie, this morning was the first time that I haven’t used a condom.”
“Well, that settles that,” Léa responded as brightly as she could, but he didn’t let go of her.
“No, it doesn’t. What about birth control?”
She was uncomfortable about discussing any of this with him now. Not while she was feeling so naked, inside and out. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Léa tried to roll off the bed, but his arm trapped her. “I’m not worried. I want to know.”
“Look, I’m thirty-one years old. I’ve been around the block a few times. We don’t need to have this discussion.”
“I say we do.” His voice was low and serious.
Léa found it unsettling to have his attention so purely focused on her, as if he could see through her and read her mind. She wished she could lie, but she couldn’t.
“Okay, I am not using any birth control. But it doesn’t matter. It’s the wrong time of the month.”
“That doesn’t wash with me. I’m a doctor’s son. My father used to claim that half of his patients were conceived at the wrong time of the month.”
Léa couldn’t understand the contradiction of his serious tone and the smile tugging at his lip
s. “I’ve answered your question.”
“But I have more.”
“Well, I’d say you’ve reached your quota.” She managed to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed.
“I didn’t know you’d set any, so I’m grandfathered in.”
Léa reached for her shirt on the floor. Sheila’s words about Mick taking care of the grasping type of women he normally dated flooded her consciousness. He was doing it right now—moving into his ‘generous’ mode while she was expected to slide into the ‘self-centered’ one. He was already worrying about what he would do if she got pregnant.
“You’re upset.”
“I am not.” She pulled the shirt over her head. “But I hope you know that I was and still am a consenting adult in this relationship.”
“I certainly do.”
She felt his hand caressing her back, but Léa wouldn’t allow herself to turn around and fall once again under his charm. “And I also want you to know that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know that, too.”
“Good.” Léa grabbed her underwear and shorts off the floor and darted toward the bathroom.
Léa turned on the cold water in the sink and splashed her face with it. She was feverish and trembling. Angry for no reason. She could hear him moving around in the other room. She was an adult. They’d made love twice. They were having an affair. This was what adults did. At least, adults who did not ignore their personal lives for more than a decade at a time.
Then why the hell was she letting Sheila’s account of Mick’s past girlfriends bother her? She was not one of them. She was not like them. She was not going to use him. So why couldn’t she let it go and just enjoy the few days they might have together?
“Was your aunt a weak woman?”
“What?” Léa was surprised to see him push his way inside the small bathroom. He was still naked. “No! Why do you say that?”
“Then Ted must be the weak one.”
“If this is some game you’re playing, then you should know I don’t play unless I know the rules.”
