Home For Christmas

by Patricia Potter

Or would she? Would she really want to relive that day she found her husband in the den, his blood soaking the carpet? Would she want to remember the following days when the devastating realities of her marriage unfolded one by one? Would she rather they disappear in a gray haze, never to surface again?

  But she wasn’t going to prison for something she didn’t remember. Wouldn’t she want to know why?

  All those thoughts rampaged through her mind.

  “All right,” she finally said “I’ll have to get permission from the district attorney to visit again—”

  “The one who convicted me?”

  “You appear to have convicted yourself,” she said.

  He was silent, then added, “A family...do I have any family?”

  “A daughter, I think.”

  Another silence. Then, “Thank you, Mrs. Farrell.”

  She heard the click on his end, then slowly, she settled the phone in the cradle

  Julie called Dan the next day, asking that the district attorney’s office pave the way for another visit with Ryan Murphy. She prepared herself for the lecture that came.

  “Julie,” he said with a sigh that she knew was a mixture of resignation, concern and exasperation

  “I want to see him again,” she said, knowing she didn’t have to identify the him. “The doctor said it was all right.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s all alone, and I owe him.”

  “You don’t owe him a damn thing.”

  “Dan, please”

  There were a lot of silences on the phone these days. This was a particularly long one.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Thank you.” She paused. “Does Jerry Kidder still work for your office?”

  “He started his own P.I firm,” Dan said. “He’s listed in the telephone book ”

  “Thank you ”

  “Julie,” he said, “I know how tenacious you become when you’ve fastened your teeth on something, but this is a dead end ”

  “Murphy’s new parole hearing must be coming up soon.” she said

  “As a matter of fact, it is, and this office has already gone on record opposing it.”

  “Dan, the doctor in charge of Murphy’s case says amnesia sometimes changes the complete personality of the affected person. All his memories are gone. He starts with a clean slate. He wouldn’t be the same man—”

  “No, Julie,” he said. “I’ve also talked with his doctor and with some others There’s no way to be sure he really does have amnesia, and I’m not going to risk letting a killer back on the street. And if you’re wise, you will drop this Now. Remember the last time you thought you were so damn sure of something ”

  That was a low blow. Dan Watters knew exactly where to aim when he wanted something. It was one of the unattractive things about him, but then most prosecutors developed that particular skill She’d once honed it to a fine art. That was before she discovered that life was not all black and white but an assortment of grays.

  “I’ll be cautious,” she said “You know that.”

  “I used to know that”

  “Dan, I just need to do something to pay him back Even if it is just showing him a friendly face.”

  She could hear his sigh over the phone

  “The prison authorities have control over his visitors, but I’ll talk to them. Again. I’ll call you when it’s arranged. But this is the last time”

  But it wouldn’t be. Not if what she had in mind worked

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope I won’t regret it.”

  She hoped he wouldn’t, either. She hung up before she uttered her doubts and stared at the wall of her study. Dan, who was a good twenty years-plus older than she, had been her mentor and substitute father. He and his wife, Sandy, had often invited her over for supper and holidays. But after she had left her job, she’d wanted no reminders of those last two years in his office, nor of the ugly publicity she’d brought down on his head. She’d also been fully occupied with Nick, trying desperately to be two parents to him, as well as the provider. She had no time for social activities, not even supper with an old friend.

  Two more phone calls. One to Caldwell, Michaels, Evans and Cagle to tell them she was ready to return to work. She immediately was asked to review the Crispen appeal that Mark Haley had prepared in her absence.

  Her second call was to Jerry Kidder He answered his own phone. “Julie?” he said with surprise. And warmth. He had asked her out to dinner several times before she’d married, and he’d never quite concealed his interest in her Still, he’d always been highly professional.

  “I want to hire you,” she said. “It’s not much of a job, just gathering some information.”

  “I’m at your disposal,” he said “I’ll even give you my friends’ rate”

  She suspected that the friends’ rate would be little or nothing. “No,” she insisted. “The regular rate or I’ll find someone else ”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he said, and she could almost see the grin on his face. “Go ahead ”

  “Do you remember anything about the case involving Ryan Murphy ten years ago?”

  “The guy who saved your life? I read about it Also read he’s claiming amnesia ”

  “His doctor’s convinced he really does have it He doesn’t remember anything about his past.”

  “You aren’t getting mixed up with the guy, are you?” The warmth in his voice faded into concern

  Not him, too.

  “No, but I do want to help him. He asked for some information about his past, and I feel that’s little enough to do after he almost died saving my son.” She heard the exasperation in her voice and regretted it.

  “What kind of information do you want?”

  “Where he was born. Family members who are livmg. I understand he has an ex-wife and daughter. I want addresses. I want to know about his years on the police force.”

  “Piece of cake,” he said. “You could do that.”

  “But I don’t have time, and you can talk to people I can’t Officers he used to work with I want to know what they thought of him ” She hesitated. “Had you ever met him?”

  “Yep Arrogant bastard. I didn’t much care for him, but I never pegged him for being dirty, either”

  “Get some other opinions,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied “You sound like the old Julie Farrell.”

  She ignored that comment. “As quickly as possible.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said again.

  “And send me the bill ”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He hung up, and she was grateful he hadn’t asked her whether she was sure or mentioned the possibility she had gone wacko.

  Trying to curb her impatience while waiting for Dan’s call about a visit, she turned on her computer and accessed the law firm’s files for the Crispen appeal and the briefs supporting it. And tried to concentrate The firm had been generous about giving her medical leave. Now she felt a customary guilt that she was not acting the responsible associate. Guilt had always been a huge part of her makeup. She’d always wanted to be perfect: the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect lawyer, the perfect wife When she felt herself falling short, she would work even harder at perfection, knowing she could never quite achieve it. The consequence was never feeling adequate

  The brief could be improved She tried to concentrate. But she couldn’t reach beyond dark bewildered eyes, the legal questions tumbling around in her mind and Dan’s comments about Murphy’s parole hearing. Georgia law allowed parole after serving seven years of a life sentence Murphy had already served ten, which meant he’d already been turned down at least once. That would not be unusual, especially with this type of crime Denial of early parole was routine in murder cases, especially when the prosecutor’s office opposed it

  Could she talk Dan into withdrawing his opposition?

  Unlikely. She needed more information than that of
fered by the newspapers She needed to know everything she could about Ryan Murphy and his past She needed to talk to all the doctors who had seen him.

  Whoa, girl, she told herself, but her mind was already racing ahead She stopped any pretense of reading the Crispen brief and started making notes on what she knew about Ryan Murphy. What she needed to know. Three hours later, Dan called and said a visit had been arranged.

  Ryan Murphy looked at the dollar bill dropped in his hand, then back up to the woman standing beside his bed Her dark hair was pulled back into a twist, emphasizing those wide gray eyes he remembered. They were blazing with a passion that seemed directed at him.

  “That’s a loan,” she said.

  He looked at it.

  “Now give it back,” she said.

  He hesitated, not sure what she wanted.

  “You don’t have an attorney of record,” she said. “I checked with the prison authorities. When you give me that dollar, I will become your lawyer ”

  He still wasn’t sure what she was saying “Why would you want to do that?”

  “You asked me to get some information?”

  He nodded.

  “If I’m your attorney, you can tell me anything and I don’t have to reveal it I can find what information you need and bring it to you without sharing it with anyone. I can see you more often. Now I have to ask permission from what seems a dozen people, and some don’t want to give it.”

  “All I have to do is give you a dollar?” he said suspiciously. He had regretted calling her almost as soon as he had hung up last night. He desperately wanted information, but something inside had balked at asking for help, of involving someone in his problems One of his guards had sneered after she’d left the first time “Some women can’t stay away from cons.” Even he grasped the fact that being involved—in any way—with him would bring trouble

  “That’s all,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you saved my son, and he’s the most precious thing in my life.”

  “Then forget it,” he said rudely. “I don’t even remember it. I’m sorry I called you last night.”

  She ignored his apology and dropped a package in his lap “These are articles about your case. I have someone else searching for any family you might have.”

  He slowly opened the manila envelope, staring at the pile of papers in his lap. Information. He stared at an old picture of himself. He had seen himself in the mirror when a guard allowed him in the bathroom. There was gray in his hair now, and lines around his eyes. Had he ever been as young as the man in the photo? Had he ever looked that confident? He swallowed hard and put both hands over the packet. He wanted to read alone

  “Thank you,” he said gratefully, then suddenly was humiliated to realize his eyes had moistened, and he turned away His life was in those papers He felt the woman’s compassion as he’d fingered through them, and he knew a yearning so deep he could barely contain it. Some part of her had reached out and touched a place he had tned to isolate this past week. He’d learned he couldn’t feel, or want, or even dream, because he was worthless, nothing He’d been caged like an animal for the past ten years and would return to a cage. Even Dr. Dailey mixed wariness with professional concern.

  “The dollar,” she said, holding out her hand

  He slowly picked it up from where it lay and handed it to her Their fingers touched and something like electricity ran through him, a hot intense shock that made every nerve tingle But the connection was even stronger than physical. Her touch was warmth to his chill She didn’t pull her hand away, but he felt it tremble.

  Almost involuntarily, his fingers caressed hers in his need to experience human contact, a moment of intimacy with someone who did not look upon him as a monster. He didn’t look at her eyes. He couldn’t bear seeing pity there But finally he looked up, and he didn’t see pity at all. He saw understanding, and it filled him with a hope he hadn’t allowed himself before.

  He reluctantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She just looked at him for a moment, then moved away “I’ll file papers with the court I hope to have some more information soon ”

  She reached the door, then turned again and met his eyes directly before pushing it open and disappearing through it.

  Chapter 4

  Julie’s hand burned from his touch. She almost dropped the dollar bill she was clutching once she’d reached the hallway.

  What in the blazes was she doing?

  For a moment inside, she’d frozen. No, that wasn’t nght. There was too much heat and electricity to freeze She’d been stunned by that one moment when he’d touched her

  Even Douglas had never affected her that way. She’d been dazzled by her late husband, swept up by his charm. She’d never had a serious relationship before; she’d been too intent on her studies and career, and she’d never been pretty enough to capture the attention of the kind of man she thought she’d wanted: someone ambitious and as passionate about the world as she.

  Douglas had been labeled one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. He was wealthy, charming and at the peak of his career as one of the city’s most successful defense attorneys They’d met at a bar association gala, and he pursued her as no other man in her life had. She’d believed herself in love with him, and he with her. But after a whirlwind courtship and marriage, she slowly began to realize it hadn’t been love at all, that he’d grabbed for some anchor in a deteriorating life while she’d been caught up by the idea of love. She’d never really known him, but she tried to make the marriage work, tried to understand his mood swings, his disappearances, his abject apologies afterward. She’d continued with the district attomey’s office, although he constantly asked her to resign and stay home “as a good wife should.”

  She’d worried about his extravagances, especially when she received overdue bills on the large house he’d insisted on buying, the Porsche sports car he gave her as a gift, the speedboat they never used. He made very good money, but he spent more than he earned. His disappearances grew longer, his explanations shorter or nonexistent. But by then she was pregnant; leaving the marriage was unthinkable His smile seldom faltered, but his natural exuberance became brittle, his eyes sometimes desperate.

  His legal brilliance never faded, but she felt as though she was living with a mannequin He never really talked to her, always turning a serious conversation into a joke, or changing the subject to someone else’s problems.

  And then she came home one day to find him in his office, dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head The next day she received a visit from two D.E.A agents who said they had been investigating her husband for money laundering. Knowledge of that investigation apparently led to the suicide. Public exposure for Douglas would have been worse than prison

  Familiar sadness washed through her as she thought of Douglas Farrell and the waste of all that brilliance. She’d learned later that he had seen a psychiatrist, that he was manic depressive, and she’d known a terrible guilt that she had never recognized the symptoms. She’d also had to pick up the pieces She sold the house she’d never liked, exchanged the sports car for a used midsize vehicle and still ended up in debt.

  The publicity had hounded her for weeks. It was a good story a well-known defense attorney, involved in drug trafficking, who was married to an assistant district attorney. When it was discovered two years later that she’d convicted an innocent man on the perjured testimony of a police officer, the publicity started again, and she’d resigned. She’d wanted peace, and she’d buried herself in the intellectual exercise of legal argument.

  So what was she doing now? Taking on the case of a former police officer, a man convicted of murder? A man who had saved her life. The press would have a real heyday.

  That was bad enough. But now, God help her, she was attracted to him as well.

  How could she be so stupid? What was wrong with her?

  She almost marched back m the roo
m and handed him back the dollar. He would look at her with those dark blue hooded eyes and say nothing. and she would never forgive herself for not doing what she felt was right, regardless of the cost.

  The dollar bill fluttered to the floor

  The call came sooner than she expected It came, in fact, that night, five hours after she informed prison authorities she would be representing Ryan Murphy at his parole hearing. Caldwell’s sources were very good. She anticipated a call from Dan next.

  “Julie,” Mr. Caldwell started. “I heard some very disturbing news from Judge Llewellen. He said you were representing...” He stopped as if he could not even mention the name.

  “Mr. Murphy,” she said helpfully.

  “Murphy. Yes Murphy. I thought you understood we do not represent criminal defendants ”

  That was a matter of opinion She kept that thought to herself, however. “I’m not representing him for the firm. I’ll be glad to make that clear.”

  “We’ve been very pleased with your work, Mrs. Farrell,” he said, suddenly turning formal. “But as I said earlier, our firm cannot be associated with any scandal.”

  “I don’t intend it to be,” she replied, trying to swallow the rock suddenly crowding her throat. “I will only represent him at his parole hearing. He did save my son’s life. And mine.”

  She was getting tired of saying that. But no one seemed to understand that she valued both highly.

  “You won’t reconsider?”

  “No,” she said, realizing that she had already considered losing her job and had resigned herself to it. She had some savings. She had Dan’s offer, although he might jerk it back now. She could always open her own office, though she knew the financial instability that meant.

  “How is the brief coming?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “I’m making a few additions I’ll send it to you tomorrow.”

  “Good,” he said, then paused for a second before continuing. “We don’t want to lose you Can you handle this discreetly?”

  “I’ll try. I don’t like publicity any more than you.”

  “We’ll go on as usual then For the time being. But if this...Murphy matter becomes disruptive, then we will have to review your employment with us.”