by John Foxjohn
She paused for effect, but also to catch her breath. She planned to have the detective on the stand for a while and needed to pace herself. Grilling a witness took a lot out of an attorney.
“When you have a murder victim and you know who that victim is, what are normally the first steps in your investigation?”
“If we know the victim, our first step is to do an initial interview with close relatives of the victim.”
“Why is that, Detective?”
“We find that in most cases, the person guilty of that murder is a close family member.”
“Would it be safe to assume in the death of a spouse, the surviving spouse automatically becomes a suspect?”
“That would be a good assumption. In most cases that proves to be correct.”
“Detective, approximately what percentage would you think this proves true in?”
“I don’t know. A high percentage.”
Proctor rose. “Your honor,” he said in an exasperated breath, “I see no relevance in these questions.”
Ballard closed one eye and cocked his head. “Well, Mr. Proctor, you’re the only one in this courtroom that doesn’t. Overruled.”
Kayla busied herself with papers as ripples of laughter passed through the courtroom. More than anything, Proctor hated people laughing at him, but he’d brought it on himself with a stupid objection.
Kayla looked up. “Would you say eight-five percent, detective?”
“Maybe. Probably higher.”
“In this case, detective, how many initial interviews did you have with the surviving spouse?”
“Well, none.”
“Is that because the surviving spouse in this case happens to be your supervisor in the police department?”
The judge banged his gavel to stop the conversations in the courtroom. Kayla flipped another page on her questions. She had to keep the pressure on him. She’d thrown a wrench in the mix, and no one outside the scope of the trial had known that little fact. Proctor should’ve tried to defuse that one.
“That’s not the reason at all. I was convinced that Lieutenant Faraway had nothing to do with his wife’s murder.”
Kayla let out an exasperated breath so the jury could hear it, and paused for a long moment. “Just as you were those you convicted of murders that were proven innocent?”
“Your honor—”
Ballard held up his hand to stop Proctor. “Ms. Nugent. That was not a proper question in this courtroom. Let’s confine our questions to ones in relation to cross-examination.”
Ballard turned to the jury. “Please disregard Ms. Nugent’s last question because we are striking it out of the record.” Kayla gave her best crestfallen look to the jury, but she didn’t mean it. The judge may strike it from the record, but that question would not leave the jurors’ minds.
“Detective, the next day, you conducted a search of Ms. Estes’ property, is that correct?”
“Yes, in concurrence with a legal search warrant.”
“Did you conduct a paraffin test, also known as gunpowder residue, on Ms. Estes’ hands, and if so what was the result?”
“We did and the tests proved inconclusive.”
Kayla tilted forward in her seat. “Inconclusive, detective? You must have viewed a different report than I did. May I approach, your honor?”
When the judge agreed, Marvin handed her another form, and she strode toward the detective and handed him the results of the report. “Would you tell the jury what this report says?”
He glanced down and read the report. “Gun powder residue was not found on any swabs submitted by the Houston Police Department on the suspect’s hands, arms, and clothing.”
“Wouldn’t you call that report a little more than inconclusive?”
Satterwhite glanced at Proctor, who studied his fingernails. Probably trying to figure out how to sink them into her. “I suppose so.”
“Detective Satterwhite, you testified that the search team found the gun in the console of the defendant’s vehicle. How did the search team get in the vehicle?”
“The car was unlocked. They just opened the door. The console was also unlocked.”
Judge Ballard interrupted Kayla. “Ms. Nugent, it is five. Do you have many more questions for this witness?”
Kayla rose. “Your Honor. I have several hours of questions left for this witness.”
“Why don’t we save them for tomorrow? Court is adjourned till nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
As Kayla stuffed her files into her briefcase, she had another battle coming, but this one of a personal nature.
* * * *
Kayla arrived at her office at five-thirty, spent a few minutes accepting congratulations, and hid out for a while on the computer.
When her cell phone rang, she glanced at the ID and answered. Darren wasted no time telling her what and who he’d found. When he filled her in on the details, she thought a moment, then told him her plan.
“Uh-huh, are you sure you want to do it this way?” he asked.
“Positively sure. It’s time to rip Proctor’s balls out.”
When she hung up, she printed off what she’d typed and took another trip to the sixth floor. This time, she marched past McMasters’ startled secretary and entered without knocking.
McMasters sat behind his desk in a meeting with two people Kayla didn’t know. He looked at her entrance with irritation, but told the two to please give them some privacy.
When the door closed behind them, Kayla laid the paper on his desk. “This is my resignation effective as soon as this trial ends.”
“Kayla, you don’t need to do this.”
“Oh-yes I do. Just didn’t know whether to make it out to McMasters or Daddy.”
TWENTY-THREE
McMaster’s eyes widened. “How did you find out?”
“That isn’t important.” She spun away and marched out as he called “Kayla,” but she didn’t stop or acknowledged him.
Fifteen minutes later, as she sat in her office, McMasters startled her when he knocked on her door. He entered and flopped down across from her desk. “Can we talk about this?”
Kayla steepled her fingers, elbows resting on her desk. “We can talk about it, but I won’t change my mind.”
“I didn’t think you would, but resigning wasn’t what I meant.”
She rested her chin on her tented index fingers. “Oh—you want to talk about being my biological father. Or did I miss something? At least I know why you hired me.”
“Young lady, you were hired at this firm because you were tops in your class at law school. You have the pedigree of criminal law. To be honest, we also needed a woman in the courtroom. Besides all that, we thought you would be a darn good attorney. That has proven to be the case.”
He took a deep breath. “I won’t apologize for hiring you. I have always tried to get the best attorneys in here. Even if you weren’t my daughter, I’d have hired you. I know this for a fact.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment. She wanted to believe him—needed to believe him, but all this had hit her at once. She also wanted to know other things. Without opening her eyes, she asked, “Would you tell me about you and my mother?”
When he didn’t respond, she opened her eyes. He had tears running down his cheeks.
When she began to believe he wouldn’t speak, he did in a cracking voice. “Before you were born, your mother and Jared separated for about six months. I started seeing your mother during that time. I fell hopelessly in love with her. I believed then and still do that she loved me. When she became pregnant, to avoid a scandal, she went back to Jared.”
Kayla closed her eyes tight as the soap opera played out in front of her.
“I didn’t want her to, but I had no say in it. Your mother was honest and told him, but he still wanted her back. For that, I can’t blame him. You’re so much like your mother. Do you know that?”
Kayla shook her head with her own tears sprinkling away fr
om her. She pushed herself away from her desk and rose, trudging to the window, hands on the sill with her back to him. “Did you and my mother have an affair after she got back with my father?” She just could not bring herself to call him anything else. Wouldn’t consider calling Jared Nugent anything else.
McMaster’s voice became a low growl. “I should box your ears for asking a question like that. You don’t know your mother at all, do you?”
Kayla turned, hands on hips, “Obviously not.”
“Your mother would never have an affair—never consider it. We kept in touch, but did not see each other. I didn’t even know you were my daughter until six months before she—”
He broke down. With hands hiding his face, he sobbed, unable to say she’d died.
Kayla turned back to the window, arms wrapped around her, wishing Darren could hold her. The man must have loved her mother more than anything. All those years her mother had lived with her dad and wanted to be with this man and he’d wanted to be with her. It didn’t take a genius to see he loved her.
She tapped on the windowsill for a long time before she asked her next question. “What stopped you and my mother from being together?” The answer was so simple she knew it, but had to hear it.
“Kayla, you know the answer to that. We planned to get married when you left for college.”
Things clicked in Kayla’s mind—the office rumors. McMasters never married. The rumor said that he had married his job, his law firm, but that wasn’t true. He fell in love with a woman he couldn’t have, and before he could, she died. He’d spent his entire life waiting for only one woman—loving one woman.
She should hate him, but her heart went out to him. The compassion she received from her mother engulfed her, and she turned. Like a zombie, she trudged beside his chair and laid her hand on his shoulder. He put his hand on hers.
Through trembling lips, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were my father?”
The clock on the wall ticked off the seconds and minutes while she waited for his answer. “Hardest decision of my life.” He paused again. “I promised your mother I wouldn’t. She’d…left us without rescinding that promise. I had no choice but follow her wishes even though they may have changed.”
Kayla wanted to remove her hand from his shoulder, move his off hers, to get away from this man, but she couldn’t. He’d lost so much, the woman he’d loved and never had, and a daughter he had but couldn’t be a father to—couldn’t even tell her.
His old hand trembled on hers and he looked up at her. “Will you ever forgive me?”
God, what did she have to forgive him for? She couldn’t blame him for falling in love with her mother. Remaining away from her mother until Kayla, his daughter, went to college. Postponing his happiness and losing it all in one swoop.
Removing her hand, she pulled a chair close to his and they held hands for what seemed like forever as he told her about her mother.
* * * *
Later that evening, she met Darren at a restaurant and while they ate, she told him the entire story.
His eyes widened. “Uh-huh, your boss is your biological father, and you didn’t know it? That the reason he paid me all that money to protect you?”
“Yes, that’s the reason. No one knew he was my father. When John followed the man who paid you to my office, he recognized him when he got out of the car. John has worked for the firm and knows McMasters.”
She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to call him Dad, Father, or anything but McMasters, the king at the top of the summit.
“How did you make the connection that he might be your father?”
“I didn’t, really, but things I had heard my parents talking about when I grew up—bits and pieces that didn’t make sense kind of meshed in my mind. My mother kept a diary that I didn’t know about until they died. I hadn’t read it until the other day.”
He squeezed her hand. “That’s how you found out for sure?”
“I read it and that is why I took off to be by myself. I’m sorry for worrying you. I called Jimmy and he is still mad at you.”
“Uh-huh, I’m not going to worry about the likes of Jimmy, but I certainly understand now why you needed to get away.”
When they finished, they held hands across the table and he told her about Loren and what she’d said.
Kayla smiled. “I don’t know about being a real woman, but I’m a woman.”
He said in his best John Wayne imitation, “Ma’am, that is quite obvious.”
Kayla squeezed his hand and her face clouded up. She spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “I’m not any good at sex.”
Darren frowned, his brow knotting in the middle. “I find that hard to believe. You’re too passionate a woman not to be good. Who told you that, anyway?”
She didn’t speak for a long moment. “No one told me. They didn’t have to. My ex-husband cheated on me six months after we got married.”
He stood, scooted around the table, pulled a chair close to hers and sat. She laid her head on his shoulder when he put his arm around her, stroking her hair. “You can’t blame yourself for what some no account did. Just because he cheated doesn’t mean it was your fault.”
“If I had given him what he needed at home he wouldn’t have needed to cheat.”
He caught her chin with his finger and turned her face to him. “Actually, that’s not altogether true. With some men—men who have no concept of loyalty, devotion, and love, it can be all about the hunt, the conquest, and nothing to do with how good their spouse is in bed. I have known men like that.”
She didn’t speak for a long time. “I was a virgin when I got married. I haven’t gone out with anyone since then. I doubt if I could satisfy you.”
He leaned forward—their lips met and brushed against each other. “Mmm, you satisfy me just with your company. I can’t imagine making love to you being anything but fulfilling.”
She closed her eyes—her lips trembled. “My house isn’t far away.”
He bounced from his seat, caught her hand, and helped her up. “What are we waiting for?”
They strolled out of the restaurant arm in arm, a promise of what the night had in store for them. When Darren slammed to a stop, Kayla looked up at him. Her smile evaporated.
Before she could ask him what bothered him, he slammed into her, driving her down on the sidewalk. He fell on top of her.
People screamed nearby, but a snapping sound by her head overrode everything.
* * * *
Bedlam reigned outside the restaurant. People who waited to enter or those who had exited the restaurant ran screaming to get away. Sirens blasted the night. Dazed, Kayla blinked, her head throbbed and a voice that sounded far away asked if she was okay.
Someone shook her, sending shards of pain knifing through her shoulder. She blinked, realizing Darren still lay on top of her, shielding her, but asking again if she’d been hit.
What did he mean by hit? What would hit her? She tried to roll over, but his weight wouldn’t allow it. He told her to be still and not move, and she did, but turned her head. He lay across her, gun extended.
That snapping sound. Someone had shot at her, and that is why he asked her the question. She found her voice. “Darren, are you okay?
* * * *
Kayla couldn’t control her fear. Her head and shoulder hurt where she landed on the sidewalk.
Darren and the private detectives who were still on the job after she’d hired and fired them, rushed her back into the restaurant, shielding her from any other shots. She wondered if politicians felt as ridiculous as she did.
They huddled at a table in the rear, away from windows, and stood talking about where the shot had come from. As the restaurant patrons gawked at her, a waitress set a cup of coffee in front her. She wrapped her hands around the hot cup and tried lifting it, but shook so much she spilled it, burning her hand.
The EMTs beat the police to the scene and looked Kayla over, su
ggesting she ride to the hospital for evaluation. She refused, but Darren vetoed her and let the EMTs load her as soon as the police arrived and cleared the scene.
With all eyes following her as everyone escorted Kayla out, the police asked Darren to stay and talk to them about what had happened. He turned to John. “Would you please follow the ambulance to the hospital?”
John put his hands on hips. “We planned to do just that. We’ll be there when you get there.”
Darren leaned in the ambulance and kissed her. “I won’t be here long. No arguing with the doctors.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I just have a bruised shoulder and a bump on the head.” She smiled. “My head’s too hard to hurt.”
When the ambulance raced away, lights and sirens blaring, her emotions changed from embarrassment at the treatment she received to fear. Who would want to kill her?
No one could gain or lose anything with her defending Loren Estes. Lawrence Estes couldn’t be behind this. If she made mistakes in the courtroom and the jury convicted Loren, the next attorney could always get a new trial. Who had so much to lose that they would try to kill the attorney defending Loren Estes?
Not for a minute did she believe the person who shot at her was not the same person who called and threatened her, and killed her cat.
He had meant what he’d said—what scared her more was that she believed he’d try again.
TWENTY-FOUR
When the ambulance deposited her at the ER, she found the media waiting. She’d refused to be carried in and cameras flashed as she stepped out, and a surge pushed toward her, shouting questions. She frowned. How did they find out so fast?
John and the three men with him surrounded her and pushed their way through the melee outside.
They stayed with her until Darren showed up, perched on the bed beside her, and held her hand. “I wanted to get you in bed, but not this way,” she said.
He kissed her hand. “Uh-huh, getting me in bed would be the easiest thing you could do. I’m easy for the right woman.”
