Guilty

by Karen Fenech

  Her mouth pinched and her eyes went as hard as diamonds. “My relationship with Alan is no longer any of your business.”

  “Fine with me. He’s welcome to you.”

  ”You sound angry, Ryan. Like you still care.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m well rid of you. All I want is my son.”

  “You had your son. We reconciled for the sake of our son. Only to have you walk out a couple of months after he was born.” She threw the words at him with bite. “Alan is out of my life and no longer has bearing on what’s going on with you and me now. Take it up with the judge. See how far you get.”

  As she was about to slam the door in his face, Ryan’s temper flared. He slapped the door with the flat of his hand and applied enough pressure that Tina couldn’t close it. Teeth gritted, he said, “I want to see Jeremy.”

  Tina’s eyes slitted, cat-like. “Don’t make me tell the court how frightened of you I am and swear out a restraining order.”

  She’d leaned toward him, was now in his personal space, close enough that she had to tilt her head all the way back to be able to look up at him. Afraid of him my ass. He’d never given her cause to fear him. Not even when he’d learned she was fucking another man. There’d been no fear in Tina’s eyes when Ryan had confronted her about her lover. There was no fear in them now. She knew Ryan would never physically hurt her but she’d play the role of the frightened wife if it suited her.

  Ryan blew out an angry and disgusted breath. “A restraining order. Really.”

  Tina’s lips pulled together in a tight line. “Just watch me.”

  Ryan’s jaw tightened. As much as he wanted to force his way into the house and get his son, he curbed the urge. The last thing he needed was to show up in court with a restraining order to his name. “Two weeks, Tina.”

  He stepped back from the door as she slammed it. A baby’s wail came from inside. The door slam must have awakened Jeremy. Ryan put his hand on the polished oak and brushed his thumb over it as if he could touch his son. He left his fingers splayed there a moment, then turned around and went back to his vehicle.

  Inside the SUV, he started the engine but didn’t drive away. The last thing he wanted was to go back to his dismal apartment. Wade was a big county made up of three cities, Ottwell, Moreland, and Collingwood, where Ryan lived. The county had a large population but rental accommodations weren’t abundant. Most of the residents didn’t rent property, they bought it.

  He didn’t have time to buy a place and wait for a closing date before he could move in. He had to establish some type of residency by his court hearing in order to secure joint custody of Jeremy. It was imperative that he have an address to present to the court if he had any hopes of being with his son.

  After spending several nights on the couch in his office, he’d rented the first available place. The last tenant must have had a thing for the color black. Everything that could be painted was painted black. Even with the black shades all the way up, the place still resembled a cave.

  Ryan spent as little time there as possible while he had his realtor on the hunt for something else. He wouldn’t have taken the place at all if not for his urgency to have a fixed address.

  He’d slapped on the first coat of primer, not wanting to subject Jeremy to that environment. Were babies even aware of that stuff? Ryan didn’t know. The first coat hadn’t done shit, but he’d held off putting on another coat because he’d been expecting to have Jeremy with him for the weekend and had worried about paint fumes. Despite the cold autumn nights Wade had experienced lately, he’d given the place a solid week with the windows open most of the time to air it out. And now he didn’t have Jeremy with him anyway.

  Ryan blew out another frustrated breath. What a mess. What a damn mess. The thing of it was it didn’t have to be this way. He and Tina could have worked out custody of Jeremy amicably but she wouldn’t let them.

  Passing the road to his place, Ryan drove in the direction of his office. He was still spending most nights there anyway, no matter what his lease read. He had cases pending. Cases going to trial. Despite all the extra hours he was putting in, there was always work to do.

  He entered the police station. His sergeant, Galbraith, looked up from the front desk, his bushy eyebrows climbing into his salt and pepper hairline.

  “Hey, Ryan. Thought you were done for the weekend,” Galbraith said.

  Ryan’s lips twisted. “Me, too. Anything going on here?”

  Galbraith shrugged one massive shoulder. The man resembled a grizzly bear and was just as tough as one but had a soft center that belied the gruff exterior. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  Ryan nodded to other members of his staff as he passed them. He’d reached his office when his cell phone rang. Caller ID showed it was Mitch. Mitch Turner was the police chief in Blake County, New York where Ryan had been born and raised. But Mitch was a lot more to Ryan than a fellow cop. Ryan and Mitch had been next door neighbors but grew up like brothers. Mitch’s father, Ed, and stepmother, Ellen, had been true parents to Ryan, unlike his own. They were the parents of Ryan’s heart. The elder Turners had a large extended family that Ryan felt blessed to be part of. Mitch had married recently and adopted his wife’s daughter from a previous relationship. Mitch’s new wife and child had become family to Ryan as well. The Turners had all flown in for Jeremy’s birth.

  “Hey,” Mitch said. “I have Sara here with me. She wants to say hi to Jeremy.”

  Mitch knew that Ryan had expected to have Jeremy all weekend. Before Ryan could tell Mitch what had gone down with Tina, four-year-old Sara came on the line. “Jemmy?”

  “It’s Uncle Ry. Sorry, sweetie, Jeremy isn’t here.”

  “Where’s Jemmy?” Sara said.

  Mitch must have been listening because he whispered something to Sara. She giggled and then Mitch was back on the phone.

  “Jeremy’s not with you?” Mitch asked.

  Ryan ran a hand back through his hair. “Tina refused to let me take him.” Mitch knew about the ongoing battle with Tina.

  Mitch blew out a breath. “Shit. I know you were looking forward to having him with you.”

  It was telling how well Mitch knew Tina that he didn’t bother asking what her excuse was. “Yeah.”

  “You okay?”

  “No. But not much I can do about it.” Ryan rolled his tense shoulders. “I have no choice but to wait until the custody hearing. You believe she threatened to slap a restraining order on me?”

  Ryan could all but hear Mitch bristle at the other end of the line. Mitch’s loyalty was fierce when it came to his family.

  “No way she could make that stick.” Mitch’s tone was harsh.

  “No, but it would cause enough trouble that the court would have no choice but to take a second look at me. That would delay the proceedings. I’ve spent enough time apart from my son. I don’t want to risk any further delays.”

  “Why don’t you take a few days off? Come home.”

  Despite the fact that Ryan lived and worked in Wade County, Blake would always be home.

  “You know Ellen would love to have you here where she can fuss over you,” Mitch added, “and Shelby would be thrilled to have you back for a while.”

  Shelby was Mitch’s wife. She’d never had family of her own and held all of the Turners and their extended family, like Ryan, in her heart. Ryan loved Shelby like a sister.

  “I don’t want to leave right now, Mitch. I don’t trust Tina not to pull something else between now and the hearing.”

  Mitch was quiet for a moment then said gently, “That’s a big load you’re carrying. I’m sorry for it.”

  Mitch’s concern meant more to Ryan than he could say. It always had. “I know.”

  “If there’s anything you need . . .”

  More words weren’t needed between them. Ryan said simply, “I’ll be in touch. Kiss mom, Shelby, and Sara for me.”

>   “You got it.”

  Ryan ended the call but his grip on the phone remained tight. Tina. Fuck.

  Ryan returned his phone to his belt then left his office. In the break room, he helped himself to coffee from the pot on the hot plate. An old TV was mounted high on one wall, tuned to a news station. The anchor, an attractive blonde, spoke about global warming.

  As Ryan added cream to his mug, the anchor said abruptly, “And this just in. The county attorney’s office released a statement that James Gaines has been indicted in the brutal rape and murder of high school teacher, Sharon Fahey.”

  That breaking news wasn’t news to Ryan. He already knew about the indictment. Sharon Fahey’s murder had fallen under his jurisdiction. Ryan had been to the crime scene. He’d seen a lot in his twelve years as a cop but nothing worse than what had been done to Sharon Fahey. Ryan hoped Gaines got the needle.

  The Wade County government building came into view then a close up of . . . Faith. Abandoning his mug on the counter, Ryan moved closer to the television. He’d moved nearer to see her more clearly, to get a glimpse of her that he hadn’t in months. He stood there, his gaze glued to the screen, drinking in the sight of her.

  She was making her way to the steps and stood sheltered from the rain by the overhang that covered the front of the building. Pretty. She drew his eye now as surely as she had the first time he’d seen her. Now, her long brown hair was blowing around her. Her cheeks were flushed from the cool air. But her big brown eyes were narrowed. Her luscious mouth was pinched tight and a line was pulled taut between her brows. Ryan’s own mouth pinched seeing it.

  “Mr. Gaines,” the anchor went on, “will be represented by public defender Faith Winston following a request made by Winston to represent Gaines.”

  Head down, Faith raced down the steps, away from a mob of reporters. Then the screen filled with the image of a tall, gaunt man identified as Timothy Fahey, the husband of the murdered woman. Ryan didn’t need the ID. He’d observed Colson interviewing Fahey after his wife’s murder.

  A female reporter shouted, “Mr. Fahey how do you feel about Ms. Winston representing James Gaines in your wife’s murder?”

  Fahey stared into the camera. His eyes were red rimmed. It was obvious the man had been crying. “Rather than answer that question, I’d like to ask one of my own.” Fahey’s voice throbbed with emotion. “To Ms. Winston. How can you live with yourself?”

  Ryan knew that Fahey was hurting, but all he could think right now was that Faith was Fahey’s target. Ryan felt his own mouth tighten, his own eyes narrow in a deep scowl. It looked like a witch hunt on those steps.

  His blood heated at seeing Faith under attack. Though he knew she was made of strong stuff, that didn’t prevent him from wanting to take her in his arms and stand between her and whatever would hurt her.

  Ryan blew out a breath and rubbed his hands down his face. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to do. But he wouldn’t. He hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t touched her in too long for that. She certainly wouldn’t welcome him.

  If his reaction was anything to go by, he hadn’t gotten over her. He shook his head. He didn’t need his reaction to Fahey and the media riding her to tell him that. He had not gotten over her. Never would get over her. And there it was.

  He didn’t know when he’d stopped loving Tina but it had been long before their marriage ended. Before she’d ended it with another man. But unlike his soon-to-be ex-wife, Ryan had remained faithful. Theirs was a union that never should have happened. Tina had wanted more from her life than to be married to a cop. She had a plan that after making a name for himself in law enforcement, Ryan would enter politics. She’d envisioned herself as a future First Lady.

  Ryan had no intention of tossing his cap in the political arena. Being a cop was exactly what he wanted to be doing with his life. She’d finally understood that her plan was never going to happen with Ryan. She’d set her sights on another man. This time, though, she’d chosen someone who was already in that game. The man she’d had the affair with, Alan Gillingham, was a congressman.

  Despite his unhappiness in the marriage, Ryan’s vows, his promise to Tina had meant something. He and Faith hadn’t come together until his marriage was over and he and Tina had filed for divorce. Faith had become the woman he intended to spend the rest of his life with.

  Then Tina had told him she was pregnant with his child. A paternity test had confirmed that the baby was his. They’d decided to give their marriage another try. Ryan could never regret the miracle that was Jeremy. But Faith . . .

  The camera followed Faith until she got into a cab and while the cab sat idling by the curb, staying with her until the vehicle pulled away. Ryan watched her as avidly as the camera had and even after the picture faded, still, he stood where he was.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The reporters and TV crews were relentless, racing to their own vehicles in front of the courthouse then pulling in behind the cab, following on the taxi’s bumper as the cabbie took her home. Faith curled her fingers around the seatbelt and did not look back over her shoulder at the caravan trailing her.

  When they reached her house, she saw that members of the media had made their way here as well. The cabbie honked his horn at the men and women blocking the street in front of her squat driveway. Despite the car’s closed windows, the blower from the heater, and the static from the dispatch radio, she could hear them shouting, impossible to tune out.

  The media had camped as close to her residence as possible, but had remained on public property. Her driveway and front lawn were unoccupied. The cabbie pulled up to the house and left the engine idling while Faith paid the man. As soon as she exited the car, the news people called out to her.

  “Miss Winston, do you really expect to win this case? And if you do, what about justice for Sharon Fahey?”

  Faith felt those words like a fist to her stomach. Her step faltered but she didn’t look back, didn’t engage the man who’d spoken. Justice. Not everyone received justice as Faith knew all too well.

  During the work week, Faith’s briefcase doubled as a purse. Digging her keys out of the zippered compartment with a hand that shook, she let herself into the house. She lived in the tiny clapboard two story that her parents had rented when they’d moved to Wade. The house needed paint and other routine maintenance but neither the owner nor Faith had done any upkeep since she’d taken over her father’s lease three years ago.

  Her mother had died when Faith was seven. It had been just Faith and her father living together until Faith had gone away to college. By the time she’d graduated from pre-law and then law school, worked a clerkship then internship, was admitted to the state bar, and then came back to Wade for good, her father was dead. Today was the third anniversary of his death. She exhaled a shaky breath. Not his death, his execution. She closed her eyes at the pain of that.

  Her father, Jackson Winston, had been convicted of the rape and murder of a Wade woman. He’d received the death penalty. Jackson had told Faith, the police, and the public defender assigned to his case that he was innocent. Her father had been a kind and decent man. Faith had never doubted his innocence.

  The public defender had been bitter and indifferent with his eye on clearing one more case off his desk. Faith had hounded him and the police, but the real murderer was not found. Three years later, he was still out there somewhere. Her father had professed his innocence with his dying breath.

  A wave of guilt washed over her as sharp as the pain. Believing in his innocence had not been enough for her to prove it. She hadn’t been practicing law then and she’d been woefully out of her depth, but the excuse did not absolve her. She’d been taking care of her father since her mother died and she’d failed him. When he’d needed her the most, she hadn’t saved him.

  Rain struck the old window panes that overlooked the yard and beyond the yard the towering trees that led to the woods that grew wild behind the house. The view was blurred from the rain, the drop
s looking like tears streaming down the glass, not unlike those now flowing down her face. She looked away from the rain.

  She was wearing a suit, a blue pinstripe that, in addition to being work-appropriate, had also served to keep out the chill of the wet October day. The fabric, though, had absorbed the rain and Faith shivered. She rubbed her nape, beneath the sweep of brown hair that fell to her shoulders. She needed a shower to warm her, as if anything could chase the bone deep chill she was feeling. She placed a hand to her stomach where a sick feeling from the day’s events prevailed and climbed the stairs to the upstairs bath. With the heavy cloud cover, it looked like nighttime dark in the cramped hall.

  Her cell phone rang inside her briefcase. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to speak with. She let it ring.

  * * *

  Ryan ended the call to Faith’s cell phone. The television had shown her leaving the courthouse in a cab. He checked his watch. She should be home by now. Why wasn’t she answering her phone?

  Though he had no right to, he’d gone ahead and called her anyway. The media and Timothy Fahey were blaming Faith as much for Sharon Fahey’s murder as they blamed Gaines.

  Added to that, Ryan was worried about her safety. Public defenders weren’t usually vilified by the public as high-profile defense lawyers were. Public defenders weren’t generally viewed as motivated by their own ambition and greed, pursuing the almighty dollar at all costs, but by their desire to help those who couldn’t otherwise receive legal help.

  But the nature of the crime Gaines was accused of had made his investigation high-profile and would make his trial the same. By requesting to defend Gaines, the media had already called Faith’s motives into question. She was a brilliant attorney with a noteworthy record of victories in the courtroom but none of those trials had been career-makers like the Gaines defense would be. Faith’s reasons for seeking to represent Gaines weren’t being perceived as altruistic but self-serving.