by Perry, Marta
“In a way.” He was maddeningly evasive. “I guess you could say that, though I don’t know that it’s actually going to help.”
She took a firm hold on her patience. “Why don’t you tell me and let me decide?”
“Well, you remember I said I’d try to trace that raven symbol—the pendant—that you got from Cherry’s friend?”
He made it a question, and she nodded.
“I thought it might turn up on the Web. You know, most dealers use the Internet these days. So that’s where I started. You’d be surprised at the number of people who are interested in hex signs. And memorabilia from secret societies.”
“I can imagine. People collect all kinds of things.” And when was he going to get to the point?
“So, anyway, finally I hit pay dirt. I found a dealer in Pittsburgh who sold that pendant, or one just like it, about two years ago.”
“Pittsburgh.” Not that far away, but not right around the corner, either. “Did he still have records on it? Did he remember who bought it?”
Bobby shrugged, looking down at his coffee. “He remembered. I got the idea that his business is more of a hobby, and that piece was unusual enough to make an impression. He said he could have sold it a couple of times over.”
He was stalling. She tried to shake off the apprehension that gripped her.
“Who bought it?”
He met her gaze then. Sympathy, maybe pity, filled his face. Something was coming, something bad, and she braced herself to hear it.
He glanced around, apparently making sure they were alone before he would speak. “It was paid for with a company credit card that belonged to Trey’s father.”
She sucked in a breath, unable even to think for a moment. If Trey’s father bought the piece, if he had given it to Cherry—
“No.” The denial was almost automatic. “That doesn’t have to mean the obvious. It doesn’t have to indicate that he gave it to Cherry. He could have sold it to someone else.”
Bobby shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s odd that neither Trey nor Geneva knew anything about it.”
Her fingers tightened around the glass. Bobby had a point, and at the moment she was too shaken to think of any but the most obvious conclusion—that if Trey’s father had given the pendant to Cherry, that implied a relationship between them.
“I can’t believe that. I never knew the man, but the way Trey talks about him, the way Geneva obviously felt…”
“Geneva can’t know about this.” Bobby looked horrified at the thought. “It would kill her if she thought that her husband…” He stopped, unwilling to say it. “Well, she can’t know, that’s all. That’s why I brought it to you. I didn’t know what else to do.” He shook his head. “There has to be some other explanation. Mr. Morgan was devoted to Geneva. Someone else must have given it to Cherry. After he died, his things would have been gone through…”
He let that fade away, but they both knew who would have been the one to do that. Trey. If Trey found the pendant—
He couldn’t have. He couldn’t have, because that would mean that he’d been lying all along.
Jessica shoved her chair back, hardly aware of what she was doing. “I…I have to think about this.” She grabbed her bag and stood, knowing she had to get away. She couldn’t sit here and discuss Trey with him.
He nodded. “I’m sorry.” He was looking down, and she couldn’t see his expression. Maybe that was just as well, because that meant he couldn’t see hers, and she was afraid of what she might be revealing.
It was only when she’d lost Trey that she’d realized how much she loved him. That was bad enough, losing him because of an honest difference of values. But to lose him because he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was at all—she didn’t think she could bear that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JESSICA FOLDED A SILK shell and put it into her suitcase, trying to concentrate on the mechanical movements of packing. Trying not to think of what Bobby had told her.
It was no use. She couldn’t prevent her mind from playing and replaying that conversation. If what Bobby’s source said was true, the conclusion seemed inescapable. Either Trey or his father must have given the pendant to Cherry.
“Jessica, what are you doing?”
Jessica spun, a suit jacket slipping from her fingers. Geneva stood in the bedroom doorway, her gaze wide as she looked at the suitcase lying open on the bed. “You’re not leaving.”
“I’m sorry—I was going to tell you as soon as I’d finished here.”
And how would she explain it? She could hardly tell Geneva what had happened between her and Trey. Or tell her what Bobby had learned, with its implication that she could be compromising Thomas’s interests just by being here.
“My dear, I thought you were happy here.” The sorrow in Geneva’s face reproached her. “I’m sure you’re safer here…”
That, at least, gave her an opening. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Now that the business about the symbol is out in the open, the person who threatened me has no reason to come after me.”
“It’s not just that.” Geneva crossed the room to clasp Jessica’s hands in hers. “I’ve so enjoyed having you here. It’s been like having my daughter home again. Really, won’t you reconsider? You can’t be comfortable at that motel.”
She had to smile at the words. Geneva made it sound as if the motel was some sort of flophouse. “Actually, I’ve decided to move to the inn.” Now that she didn’t have to account to Henderson’s secretary for her expenses, she could suit herself. “I…I should probably tell you that Mr. Henderson has terminated my employment. He feels that I should have made a deal for Thomas—”
“That’s outrageous.” Geneva flushed. “Besides, I wouldn’t hear of such a thing. You are still going to defend Thomas, aren’t you?”
“I won’t let him down. I just wish I had a little more ammunition.”
Like the pendant. If she tried to use it, she’d be casting suspicion on the Morgan family. But if she didn’t, she could be harming her client.
“But you will as soon as we find out how the symbol fits in.” Geneva was pursuing her own line of thought, but it ran parallel to Jessica’s. “I trust you with Thomas’s defense. And I trust God to use you to see that justice is done.”
The complete faith in Geneva’s words floored her for a moment. When she could speak, she said, “That’s a pretty heavy burden, don’t you think?”
“Not at all.” Geneva patted her hand. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that when God gives us a job to do, He also gives us the ability to do it. We just have to rely on Him.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very good at relying on others.”
Geneva touched her cheek. It was a featherlight caress, one that a mother might give to a daughter. Pain gripped Jessica’s heart at the thought.
“That’s coming between you and Trey, isn’t it? No, don’t answer,” she added quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I always promise myself I’m not going to interfere, and then my mouth runs ahead of my intentions.”
“I think it’s your heart, not your mouth.” Surprising herself, Jessica hugged her. “I appreciate your concern. It’s just…”
“You don’t want to talk about it, not to Trey’s mother, of all people.” Geneva sighed, shaking her head. “He means well, bless him. He just doesn’t understand yet that there can be a balance between protecting someone you love and trusting them to handle things on their own. Oh, there I go again.”
She pressed her cheek against Jessica’s. “Just you remember that you’re always welcome here, no matter what. All right?”
“All right.” It was the easiest thing to say, the simplest way out of the situation.
Unfortunately she knew it wasn’t true. If her defense of Thomas involved casting doubt on Geneva’s husband or her son, that was the one thing she’d never be able to forgive.
HER ROOM AT THE INN would be delightful, if she were in the mood to be delighted
by anything like that. Two rooms, actually—a small sitting room and a bedroom, each furnished with solid Pennsylvania Dutch furniture. She traced the tulip design on the coffee table with one finger, unpleasantly reminded of the use to which one twisted mind had put a simple bit of folk art.
She leaned back on the love seat, too tired to do anything else. A rap at the door shook her out of her lethargy. Must be the soup and salad she’d ordered for supper.
“One second,” she called and pulled the door open. And stared.
“Dad.” Her father. Here in Pennsylvania instead of his Beacon Hill flat, wearing one of the signature gray suits that matched his silver hair.
“Well, Jessica? Must I continue to stand in the hallway, or will you invite me in?”
She scrambled after what was left of her wits and stepped back. “Please, come in. I’m surprised to see you.”
Surprised didn’t do justice to the feeling. She didn’t know what would. Her father had never visited her in Philadelphia, assuming that if she wanted to see him, she’d come to Boston. And yet here he was in Springville.
He stalked into the small sitting room, glancing around with a dismissive stare, and turned to face her.
“Won’t you sit down?” She didn’t attempt to hug him in greeting, knowing how much he disliked that. For just a second Geneva flitted through her mind, with her quick hugs and gentle touches.
“What I have to say won’t take that long.”
She’d learned to excuse his curtness long ago. He was a busy man, important people depended upon him, he didn’t like seeing her because she reminded him painfully of her mother. The familiar excuses were just that—feeble excuses that didn’t amount to a thing.
Still, she’d never challenged him. Maybe it was time she did. “You came all the way from Boston to see me, and you can’t take the time to sit down?”
He blinked. Then he pulled out the straight chair from the desk and sat. Trying to quiet the butterflies dancing in her stomach, she took the end of the love seat opposite him.
“I’m on my way to Baltimore on business. It wasn’t that much out of the way to stop in Philadelphia and see Henderson.”
See Henderson. Not to see her. “I take it you know that my employment has been terminated.”
His lips thinned, and his aristocratic nose wrinkled slightly, as if in reaction to an unpleasant odor.
“Henderson was perfectly amiable. He regretted having to take the steps he did. He is still willing to forget your unfortunate behavior and reinstate you.” He glanced at the understated gold watch he wore. “It’s too late to call him now. You’ll get in touch first thing tomorrow. Apologize. You’ll find him eager to move on.”
In other words, her father had brought pressure to bear. She would give in all along the line, and life would return to normal. Thomas’s frightened young face filled her mind.
“No.”
A faint tic appeared in her father’s jaw. She watched it, fascinated. She’d never openly defied him before.
“What did you say?” The words were lowering, ominous as an approaching storm.
“No. I’m sorry you’ve had this trip for nothing, but I don’t intend to return to Henderson, Dawes and Henderson.” Just saying the words was freeing. “I happen to believe my client’s welfare comes before the risk of embarrassing the firm.”
“How is your client served by his attorney making a spectacle of herself, appearing on television like that?” He gestured toward her battered face.
“I didn’t give myself a black eye.” The mildness of her tone surprised her. Didn’t she care what her father thought?
Maybe the answer was there, in his words and actions. She’d spent her life trying to please him, to wring one word of approval from him, and he didn’t care. Sorrow came with the thought, but something that had been tight inside her started to relax. If nothing she did could please him, she could stop trying.
“I can see it’s no use trying to talk sense to you.” He planted his palms on the arms of the desk chair. “Henderson was right. You are willful and incapable of being a team player.” He thrust himself to his feet. “I trust you’ll enjoy this case, since it may be the last one you ever try. Without my backing…”
She couldn’t let it go like this. “I appreciated your help in getting the position with Henderson. Surely you must see that we’re not a good fit.” She was quoting Leo, she realized. “There’s far more to this case than Henderson has been willing to hear. If you’d care to listen—”
“I’ve heard enough.” He towered over her, face set in rigid lines.
She stood, too, with a sense of finality. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Any rational attorney would feel the same.” He stalked toward the door.
“What about any father?”
Her words stopped him, his hand on the knob. At least she’d given him pause. Maybe…
But when he glanced at her, there was no feeling at all in his face. “I see no reason to prolong this conversation. When you’ve come to your senses, you may contact me.”
He went out. The door closed with a muffled slam, as if to put a period to one part of her life.
SHE WEPT, OF COURSE. But there was a sense of relief in the tears. She’d burned all the bridges now. There was no place to go but forward.
Still, she couldn’t help a flare of hope when she heard a rap on the door an hour later. If her father had come back…
“Who is it?”
“Trey. Open the door, Jessica. We have to talk.”
Given the impatience in his voice, it seemed likely that if she refused to let him in, he’d stand there and knock until the entire floor had heard him. The Springville Inn seemed a bit limited in its security when first her father and then Trey could arrive at her door without warning.
She may as well face him, although it didn’t seem likely they had anything left to say to each other. She turned the knob then stepped back as he entered.
“What is it, Trey? It’s late.” And I’ve been through enough emotion for one night.
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “I had things to do. By the time I went back to the house, you were gone.” He hesitated for a moment. “That wasn’t necessary, you know.”
“It seemed best.” Only the firmest control kept her face noncommittal.
“Something’s wrong.” He reached out a hand toward her and then let it drop. “What’s happened?”
She suppressed an insane desire to laugh. What wasn’t wrong? If she told him what Bobby had found out about the pendant—but how could she do that?
“My father was here earlier,” she said finally. “It was a…difficult conversation.”
“I’m sorry.” The sympathy that filled his voice sounded genuine, and it touched something deep inside her, something that wanted to respond to him.
But she couldn’t. She had to stand on her own in that, as in everything else. “It’s all right. What was it you wanted to talk about?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Look, what I told you about my father’s suicide today…I want your word that you won’t make that public. I should never have said it.”
“How can I promise that? For heaven’s sake, Trey, it fits in with the idea that more is going on in Cherry’s murder than a lover’s quarrel that went too far. I have to protect my client any way I can.”
His face hardened. “Don’t you mean your career?”
“Career?” Once again that crazy need to laugh swept through her. “What career? Obviously you haven’t talked to your mother or Leo. Henderson gave me an ultimatum this afternoon—either settle the case quietly with a plea bargain or forfeit my position.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You gave up your job for Thomas.”
“What else could I do? I wasn’t going to sacrifice his life for the dignity of Henderson, Dawes and Henderson. That’s what it would be, we both know that. He wouldn’t survive in prison…certainly not emotionally, mayb
e not physically, either.”
“Is that why your father was upset with you?”
She didn’t want to look at his face. The subject of fathers was too loaded for both of them. “He took it as a personal affront. I let him down.”
“I’m sorry.” He did touch her then, the lightest of strokes on her hand. “That must have hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She had to believe that. “The only thing that matters now is the truth.”
He looked at her steadily for a long moment. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
Three vertical lines appeared between his brows as they drew together. “Then tell me the truth.”
She blinked. “About what?”
“About whatever it is that you’re hiding, whatever is bothering you so much I can sense it. What aren’t you telling me, Jess?”
He’d called her that once or twice, in moments of stress. No one else ever had except Sara. The intimacy of it twisted her heart. She couldn’t lie to him. But how could she tell him the truth?
“I can’t.” She choked on the words.
“Just tell me. It has to do with my family, doesn’t it? That’s the only thing I can think of that you’d feel you had to keep from me.”
She took a breath, released it. Her heart seemed to reach out in a silent plea for guidance.
The uncertainty drained away. Telling him would widen the barrier between them, but she couldn’t help that.
“Bobby traced the ownership of the pendant.” She didn’t want to see his expression, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “It was bought from a dealer in Pittsburgh two years ago. By your father.”
He stared at her, his eyes unreadable. “That’s impossible. You must have misunderstood.”
“I didn’t misunderstand. That is what Bobby found. It was purchased with a company credit card belonging to your father.” She had to ask. “You didn’t see it? He never mentioned buying such a thing?”
He shook his head, frowning and baffled. “Never. I suppose…well, he might have bought it, just as a curiosity for his collection. But he’d have shown it to me. And he’d never have given it to Cherry. He barely knew her.”
