by Donna Hill
Sean’s mind raced faster than his shaky fingers could write. He had found her, and he was going to make everything all right. No more lies, no more cover-ups. He would make her understand. The past was finally behind him, and he wanted her in his future.
“I owe you one, Phil,” Sean said in a shaky voice.
“Forget it, man. This one’s on the house. Now all you gotta do is get here.”
“I’m on my way.”
Phil hung up, and Sean depressed the button to dial. He was interrupted by a fierce pounding on the door, as if someone was trying to break it down. He looked at the bedside clock. It was seven a.m. Now who in the hell could that be?
He pulled a navy-blue terry cloth robe from his closet, shrugged it over his muscular shoulders and went to door. “Who is it?” he demanded.
“Open up. Police.”
Shock waves of dread ripped through him. He flung the door open to see two large men dressed in civilian clothes. The tense, drawn faces that greeted him seemed to reflect in the badges they flashed.
“Yes?” A flicker of apprehension grabbed him in the gut.
“Are you Sean Michaels?” asked a burly detective.
Sean took a defiant stance, legs splayed apart. “I am.”
“May we come in?” the detective asked, brushing by him before he had a chance to respond. The other followed.
Sean, becoming more irked by the minute by this intrusion, stood by the door as the men inspected his apartment. “Just what do you want?”
“I hope you weren’t planning on going anywhere, Michaels,” the second detective said, looking through Sean’s bedroom door at the open suitcase he had placed on a chair, “because we have a warrant for your arrest.”
Sean’s head snapped instinctively toward his bedroom, sudden panic rippling through him. “What!” Disbelief and icy fear twisted within him.
“You’re under arrest for suspicion of murder.”
“Murder?” Sean was incredulous. “Have you lost your mind? I haven’t murdered anyone.” Sheer, dark fright gripped him. His heart thudded wildly in his chest.
“I suggest you get dressed, Mr. Michaels, and quickly. You’re coming with us,” the first detective stated calmly.
“What? I don’t understand. Who am I supposed to have murdered?”
“Your ex-wife, Carol Gordon-Michaels. Read him his tights, Murphy,” the big detective said to his partner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The teapot whistled shrilly throughout the tiny apartment. Khendra dashed across the carpeted floor in stocking feet, zipping her camel-colored skirt as she moved to turn off the stove. She was thankful that she didn’t have to be in the office until later. Her evening out with Cliff had left her tired.
She smiled. Cliff was a good man. He could probably make her very happy. She sighed, then shook her head. No one could replace Sean. The thought was frightening but true. And she would not allow anyone else to capture her heart again. She would consume herself with work, and that, she thought weakly, would be enough. She’d been burned once too often.
Straightening her shoulders with resolve, she poured herself a cup of herbal tea and headed for the bedroom to look for a file. As she passed the television in the living room, she flipped it on and set her cup on the coffee table.
“Now where is that file?” she said out loud, fishing through the folders on her desk. Unsuccessful in her search, she stepped into her brown leather pumps and left the bedroom. She was looking through a stack of papers and folders on her coffee table when a flash on the television screen caught her attention.
The picture-perfect face, devoid of all emotion, with hair that was combed just right, seemed to be talking directly to her.
“…as you can see by all the activity behind me, I’m standing in front of the 90th Precinct in downtown Atlanta—”
The camera panned the expanse of the area, revealing news vans, reporters, police barricades and scores of onlookers..
“…where notable attorney, Sean Michaels, of the law firm McMahon, Counts and Perry, was taken into custody earlier this morning and is being held on suspicion of murder.”
The teacup Khendra held in her hand crashed to the floor. She felt an unbearable heat race through her body.
The hair on the back of her neck bristled. Her pulse pounded so loudly in her ears she could barely make out what this insane—he must be insane—news reporter was saying.
“It appears that his ex-wife, Carol Gordon-Michaels, daughter of former New York Supreme Court judge, Bradford Gordon…”
Bradford Gordon! Oh, merciful heavens.
“…was murdered last night in her Atlanta apartment.”
Khendra’s head began to spin.
“Mr. Michaels, as you may recall, was the attorney who successfully handled the…”
She couldn’t breathe.
“…As we obtain further details on this shocking event, we will keep you informed. This is Mark Hampton in Atlanta.” He raised his right hand to press his earphone, then raised a finger to get the cameraman’s attention.
“This just in,” he said, the scent of blood rippling through his voice. “Mr. Michaels has just been charged with the murder of Carol Gordon-Michaels. We tried to reach her father in New York, but…”
Khendra’s knees buckled beneath her, and she crumpled onto the sofa. Her vision blurred with the unreality that danced in front of her eyes.
The voice droned on. She wanted to reach through the screen and grab that lying reporter by the throat and make him take back everything he’d said.
How could this be happening? She ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes wide with frightened disbelief. It couldn’t be true. Could it? She shook her head vehemently. Sean wasn’t capable of murder. There had to be some other explanation. But what?
Then a terrifying thought settled on her like a blanket of snow, chilling her. What if it was true? The very idea riveted her to her seat, as a slow, steady tremor shook her body. No, it was impossible.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself with quiet reason. There’s nothing I can do. Why should I anyway after all he’s done to me? I’m sure he has excellent representation and he’ll get through this with flying colors. Her eyes roamed the room as she twisted her hands. “There’s nothing I can do,” she whispered weakly.
In slow motion she turned off the television and went through the steps of getting ready for work.
Charisse strolled down Martin Luther King Drive, her coat collar pulled high around her neck. It was a cold but clear day, and she occasionally stopped to look in shop windows as she walked.
Walking past a home appliance store, she suddenly stopped to stare in open-mouthed astonishment at the image projected on the screen of the television that was playing in the window.
She quickly stepped inside the store so she could hear what the reporter was saying. She stood rooted in front of the set as she listened to details of the story. Sean? Murder? What in the hell had happened? She couldn’t believe it.
Khendra! Oh, sweet heaven. What if she saw this? Maybe it was best she hadn’t told her about meeting Sean. Now this. She had to call her, to brace her. If she didn’t know already.
She ran in search of a pay phone and dialed Khendra’s number only to hear hollow ringing on the other end. “Damn!” She slammed the phone back on the hook. She must be at work. If there was any justice in this world, maybe she hasn’t seen it.
Cliff stepped into Khendra’s office and gently closed the door. “What in the devil is wrong with you? You almost look pale.”
She briefly looked up, tried a smile that failed miserably, then lowered her eyes and stared sightlessly at the papers on her desk.
Cliff pulled up a chair and took a seat opposite her. “What is it? Maybe I can help,” he said, unbuttoning his tweed jacket.
She shook her head.
“How do you know that unless you tell me?”
“Because I know you can’t!” she s
napped. She jumped up from her seat, turning her back on him.
“Khendra, listen to me. Whatever it is, I’m here.” He rose from his chair and moved behind her.
The genuine sincerity in his voice touched the weakened threads of her heart. “Oh, Cliff.” She turned into his arms and buried her face against his chest, her pent-up tears flowing onto his cream-colored shirt.
How long had he waited to hold her in his arms, smell the scent of her hair, to comfort her? He wanted stroke her, to brush his lips against hers, to feel her tremble beneath him, calling his name. But that would come in time, he thought, gently patting her back and making soothing sounds. She had finally turned to him. This was the beginning.
“Sit down, Khendra,” he urged, leading her toward the sofa. He sat next to her, keeping a warm hand on her shoulder. “Now tell me. What is it?”
She looked up at him, her large, luminous eyes filled with glistening tears. “Cliff…” She reached out a hand to place on his, and sighed. Then taking a deep breath, told him all of the events that had led her to New York.
He felt a tightness in his chest, but his turbulent thoughts remained unreadable as he listened, pain filling his gut with her every word. She loved this man.
There was no debating that. But he had ruined that with deceit. There still could be a chance for he and Khendra if he could make her forget Sean. Make her realize that Sean was not the man for her—that he was.
“…so I had to leave. I couldn’t stay. Now this.” She looked up at him and took both of his hands in hers. “And you’ve been so good to me. I want to thank you for that.”
He smiled, overcome once again by her startling beauty. He fought down the urge to kiss her lips and tell her how deeply he felt about her. He squeezed her hand instead.
“Why don’t I make some calls to Atlanta and see what I can find out? He probably has excellent counsel. But if not, maybe I can recommend someone.” He handed her an initialed handkerchief from his pocket to wipe her eyes.
“Thank you for everything,” she whispered, a mixture of gratitude and relief flooding her voice.
They rose simultaneously from the sofa, as the phone began to ring.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear something. Don’t worry.”
She nodded her auburn head, then turned to answer the phone. She cleared her throat. “Khendra Phillips,” she answered softly. Cliff exited the office, giving her the thumbs-up sign.
“You don’t know me, but I’m a good friend of Sean’s. The name’s Phil Banks,” the voice came over the phone. Her heart skipped a beat. Heat flooded her. She sat down. “Yes?”
“He needs you to come to Atlanta. He’s in trouble.”
Her mind ran in a hundred directions at once.
“How did you find me? And why does he need me?”
“He asked me to look for you several days ago. I did.”
Her heart lifted. “He asked you to find me?”
Her voice filled with hope.
“He was on his way to you when the shit hit the fan.”
She cringed. “Why?”
“I think you need to talk to Sean about that. Listen, have you seen the news?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what’s goin’ on. He needs you.”
“Why me?” It can’t be me.
“Because he says you’re the best.”
Khendra finished the telephone conversation and left her office. She tapped lightly on Cliff’s office door. “Come in.”
As she entered, he rose from his chair and replaced the phone receiver. “I have some news for you. Not all of it good.” He rounded the desk as she stepped fully into the room. “A colleague of mine has agreed to go down to the precinct where they’re holding Sean and find out what he can. But the word is they have witnesses who saw him leave the building where she lived around the time of the murder, as well as others who heard a loud argument. And his firm won’t touch this one.”
Her shoulders stiffened. But her face remained serene, her eyes clear. “I’m going back to Atlanta.”
“What?”
“I have to go. I got a call and—”
Cutting her off in mid-sentence, he went to her side. “‘What do you hope to accomplish by going back there? There’s nothing you can do.”
“I can defend him.”
“Are you kidding?” Panic gripped him. He knew that if she returned to Atlanta, he’d lose her for good. He had to make her see reason.
“Listen to me,” he said with more calm than he felt. “You’re too close to this thing. He was your lover, for God’s sake. How do you think you could adequately handle…”
“I know him, Cliff,” she stated in the same flat monotone. “And I know he couldn’t have done what they say he did.”
“Exactly my point. If he didn’t do it, then he’ll be found not guilty.”
“Now that’s the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard you say. Nothing is airtight, Cliff, and there’s no one better equipped to handle this than I am.” Her eyes blazed with determination.
“You’re making a dreadful mistake, Khendra.”
He was almost pleading. He stepped up to her and held her shoulders. “Let someone else handle this one,” he urged. “You’re so close to it, you could do more harm than good.” He saw her weaken as the truth of his words touched her. He pressed on. “Did you think about that?”
Her shoulders slumped, and she slipped into the overstuffed office chair. She looked up at him, her eyes dark with worry and confusion. “Maybe you’re right.” She sighed heavily.
His heart picked up a beat, and he sat next to her.
“I know I’m right. You’ll see.” He brushed a feather-soft kiss across her brow and put his arm around her shoulder breathing a silent sigh of relief. “You’ll see,” he said again. “I’ll do what I can. I promise you that.”
The day seemed to go on endlessly, and still there was no further word from Atlanta. Finally, Khendra packed her briefcase and readied herself to go home. Every muscle in her body seemed to ache due to the tension that had built up in the preceding hours. She just wanted to get home and soak in a hot tub and try to get the events of the day off her mind.
Cliff had offered to take her to dinner, but she graciously declined. She knew the reason behind Cliff’s generosity and solicitousness, and she didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire. Cliff was a great guy, but she could never love him that way. He deserved a woman who could give herself to him unconditionally. She was not that woman.
Walking slowly through the parking lot, she had the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She looked around, but she didn’t see anyone. Yet, she couldn’t shake the sensation. Quickly, she dug in her purse for her car keys, when a figure came up behind her.
“Ms. Phillips?”
She nearly leaped out of her skin as goose bumps raced up her arm. She turned and looked into the warmest brown eyes she had ever seen.
“Sorry if I startled you. I just wanted to be sure you were alone.”
“What do you want?” The voice sounded curiously familiar.
“I’m Phil. We spoke earlier—about Sean.”
Her heartbeat slowed to normal. From the looks of him, she couldn’t imagine him and Sean being friends. Phil was of medium height with a stocky build, like a boxer. But he had an aura about him that seemed dangerous and immediately put her on guard. He was definitely a man who had known the streets and violence, and knew how to handle both.
“I’ve changed my mind, if that’s why you’re here.” She turned to walk away, her heart thudding once again.
He grabbed her shoulder, his powerful fingers boring through her coat. “Listen, lady,” he growled, “that guy means more to me than any friend I’ve ever known, and I don’t give a damn what I have to do to convince you. But if he says you’re his only hope, then you’re gonna help him.”
“Take your hands off me.” She glared at him, her own anxiety giving way to anger. “I’
ve told you, I can’t help him. If Sean wants me to find him an attorney, I will. But I can’t do it.” Her voice began to waver. She cleared her throat. “I just can’t.” She ran toward her car, hot tears threatening to overflow.
Phil stood back and watched her shaky fingers put the key in the lock. “I hope you can sleep at night,” he yelled, his voice echoing throughout the lot. “But I’ll be back every single day until you change your mind. You can bet on it.”
Khendra quickly got in the car and sped off, her heart hammering in her chest, his words reverberating in her ears. I’m doing the right thing, she repeated to herself over and over. Aren’t I?
Pure exhaustion overcame her as she stepped across the threshold of her apartment. Phil’s face flashed before her eyes, and she shut them as if to erase the vision. She ran her hand across her forehead and massaged her temples.
The phone rang, and she hurried across the room to answer it. Maybe it was news about Sean.
“Hello?”
“Khen, it’s me, Charisse.”
A pang of disappointment briefly skittered through her stomach. “Hi, Cee Cee.”
“I guess you’ve heard by now.”
“About Sean?”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
“Listen, hon—”
Khendra braced herself
“I didn’t want to tell you, but now I think you ought to know—”
Her flight was due to depart in thirty minutes.
She had wanted to call Cliff last night, but she knew he would only try to talk her out of it again. But she couldn’t just leave without letting him know. She went in search of a phone and prayed he would understand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The cab sped away from the airport and merged with the rush-hour traffic. Khendra leaned back in the seat and quickly pulled out her hastily scrawled notes.
Cliff had been able to furnish her with bits and pieces of information, but so much was still missing. She wouldn’t know anything for sure until she spoke with Sean.
Sean. Just the thought of him made her shiver.
