by Ace Collins
“No doubt,” she replied. “But since I’ve worked for you, you’ve always figured a way to avoid being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There has to be a way to handle this and not be hurt.”
She was right about his timing. He’d always been one step ahead of the game. Anticipating a voter shift, he’d changed parties at just the right time. He’d been careful to groom the right friends and dump them at just the right moment, too. He’d married well and his wife was a member of all the right clubs. His record in the successful prosecution of violent offenders was perfect, largely because he never went to court unless he had a pat case. And through a series of deals and favors, he’d earned the support of the powerful Judge Alfred E. Thomas. And now all of that might fall apart simply because of the death of a man in a car wreck had placed Jones between a rock and a hard place. How could he go after the Thomas kid and hang onto the most influential force in state politics?
Turning back toward his assistant, Jones shrugged, “I’m cooked. If I don’t win, my next opponent will hit me with two punches. The first is that I blew an open-and-shut case. The second is that I tossed in the towel because the Thomas family was involved. And both charges will stick in the voters’ minds. My political career will begin and end with this office. Then I become just another small-town lawyer.”
Blount nodded.
Pushing his hands even deeper into his suit pants pockets, Jones leaned against a case filled with dusty law books. Shaking his head, he looked up toward the ceiling. Worry deepened every crease in his face. His house of cards didn’t look very secure right now.
“Jo,” he sighed, “if I win, Judge Thomas will ruin me.”
“Has he called you?” she asked.
“No, he knows he doesn’t have to. I’ve fixed things for his family for years. If only this had been just a DUI, I could easily sweep this under the rug, too. But a man died this time. The papers reported it. Mothers Against Drunk Drivers will no doubt parade in here for the trial. I can’t snap my fingers and make this go away.”
Blount grimly smiled. “The case won’t go away, but you can.”
Confused, Jones looked across the room. “What?”
“Your knee. The doctor told you that you needed to have it operated on.”
Jones shrugged. “It’s just an elective procedure.”
“That doesn’t matter,” she assured him. “Get the surgery and rehab scheduled during the time the Thomas case goes to trial. To be fair to the state, you’ll have to withdraw from the case.”
The district attorney smiled. “Yeah, I see where you’re going with this. If I don’t handle any of the case, then I can’t get blamed either way.”
“You can talk out of both sides of your mouth,” Blount added. “You can tell Thomas you were in his court if the case goes against his son and you can show the voters you aren’t soft on crime. If the kid gets off, you can pretend outrage.
“That’s not bad,” Jones laughed.
“So,” Blunt added, “we just give it to Cheryl.”
Jones’s eyes went to the ceiling. What a wonderful suggestion! His assistant was too young and too green to win a case like this. Thomas’s legal team would tear her up. And if she somehow did happen to get lucky and win a conviction, Jones would be completely out of the picture, so he couldn’t get blamed for it. If Thomas had to pay the price, let it be the woman who gives the kid the bill. She will become the sacrificial lamb.
Jones looked back at Blount. “As soon as the trial is scheduled—and let’s face it, the grand jury will push this to trial—get me an appointment for surgery that week. Once we have that on my calendar, get Cheryl in here. We’ll let her take charge of this one from the get-go. She can’t battle the Thomas clan. And when she loses, she’ll be seen as the woman who let the Widow Richards down. Then, I can use my assistant to show voters just how disgusted I am with the sentence and her inept work on the case.”
Blount wryly noted, “That would keep you out of hot water and maintain your image as being tough on crime.”
He smiled and walked back to the window. The train hadn’t bounced off the track after all. He could just avoid this bump in the road and let it ruin someone else’s career—someone who wasn’t nearly as important as he was.
17
FOR MEG, A SMALL PROMISE WAS BETTER THAN NONE AT ALL. AND WITH just the knowledge that Jones had made his way back to his office and now planned to prosecute, she felt better than she had in days. She even mustered a small smile for little Jamie, thanking her for the pretty picture she had drawn, and accepted an invitation to go to Pizza Hut with Heather.
Over supper, the nurses discussed television shows, movies, and work. Steve was the one subject they both ignored. Then, after they had paid their bill and were putting on their coats, Meg asked Heather if she would mind going for a drive.
As they rode through town in the Mustang, Meg rattled on about the times she and Steve had enjoyed while dating. As the minutes passed, Meg’s conversation became more and more current, even talking about how she and Steve had just paid off their school loans and had been saving to make a down payment on a house. Then, just as it appeared Meg had begun to confront the demons that had been causing her to feel so bitter toward life, the car stopped in front of huge brick home. Meg smiled as she considered the bomb she was about to drop.
“You know who lives there?” she asked, pointing through Heather’s window.
Heather just shook her head.
“That’s Judge Thomas’s house,” Meg explained.
Meg let Heather take in the magnificence of the structure—a splendor that even the darkness couldn’t hide. Then she slipped the car back into drive and eased it down the street. The two didn’t speak again until Meg dropped her friend off at her car. After they had said their good-byes, and just as Heather opened her own car’s door, Meg pushed the Mustang’s passenger window button. After the window opened, Heather leaned down and was greeted with a strange smile.
“Heather, that house, the big one?” Not waiting for a response, Meg continued. “That’s where Steve’s murderer lives his little, happy life. When I get done with him, he and his family, all those who called that big house home, will never see another happy day as long as they live.”
Before Heather could reply, Meg raised the window and the Mustang rolled out of the parking lot and disappeared into the night.
18
THE RUDE BEEPING ECHOED THROUGH THE ROOM AT THE SAME TIME IT DID every weekday morning—5:15 a.m. Groping in the darkness, Meg reached over and hit the snooze. The room at once took on a tomblike silence as she fell back into a deep sleep. Five minutes later, the loud buzzing woke her again. This time she managed to hit the off switch as she tossed the covers back and rolled out of bed. Not bothering to turn on the lamp, she sleepily stumbled to the bathroom. Temporarily hiding her eyes with her left arm, she flipped on the light switch, and after waiting a few seconds for her vision to clear, stared at the image reflected there.
“If only Heather could see me. She wouldn’t think I looked so perfect.”
Pushing her hair back in some semblance of order, she plugged in her electric curlers, automatically pivoted 180 degrees, and turned on the shower. The routine had become so familiar over the years she could do it without thinking. But today something different and unexpected had been added.
With no warning, a strange, dizzy feeling came over her. The whole room began rolling and she felt as though she were on a ship fighting against storm waves. Balancing by holding onto the sink, she managed to keep from falling, but that didn’t stop her head from spinning for another thirty seconds. The dizziness left almost as soon as it came. Refocusing, Meg straightened herself and tugged her favorite T-shirt over her head. Just as she dropped it on the floor, a queasy roiling hit her like a hammer. She’d never gotten this sick so quickly. She’d always hated being sick. She’d always fought giving into any kind of illness. Yet this time she had no choice. Her stomach had a mind o
f its own. Dropping to her knees, she found the commode and quickly lost what little food she had in her stomach.
Pulling herself off her knees, she turned on the sink’s tap and rinsed her face with cool water. Drying her cheeks with a towel, she glanced back at the reflection of her now ashen, white face and muttered, “No more pizza after work. Heather will have to find someone else to pig out with.”
Feeling slightly better, she stepped into the shower and spent the next few minutes reviving herself. By the time she had dressed, fixed her hair, and put on her makeup, she was not just feeling well, she was ravenous. With energy brought on by desire, she prepared a huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns and quickly devoured every bite. Not satisfied, she munched passionately through a half bag of potato chips. She would have eaten the remainder, but it was already well past time for her to be on her way to work.
As no one in their right mind was ready to be a part of the real world this early in the morning, the short trip was uneventful. It was just another drive through lonely, dark streets on a route that never changed. Except for Mr. Kim working in the donut shop and a lone police car, there were no signs of life. The hospital parking lot was all but empty as she pulled in and shut off the Mustang. And the solitude was the best gift Meg could imagine. If Steve could never again be with her, then she saw no real reason to be with anyone. But as soon as she hit the employee door, that peaceful isolation would be transformed into organized chaos.
“Hi, Meg.” Heather’s voice sounded as chipper as ever. “How are things today?”
Meg shrugged as she hung her coat on the rack. “They’d be a lot better if we hadn’t had pizza last night. Boy, I was sick this morning.”
“Wish I looked like that when I was sick,” Heather replied.
“You always look fine,” Meg returned.
“Hi, nurses!”
Heather and Meg stopped their drug counts as Dr. Mason walked into the room.
“Hi, Paul,” Heather said. “I thought you had the day off.”
“I did, but Dr. Parks has a touch of the flu, so . . .”
“I think Meg might be coming down with it, too,” Heather shot back.
Meg almost grinned. She could see right through her friend and coworker. Heather might have been attempting to make casual conversation and sound like she had no interest in the male in their midst, but she would give her right arm to go out with him. It was so obvious it was almost sad.
“How many did you get, Heather?”
Glancing over to see what the other nurse had been inventorying, Meg answered, “Twenty-two.”
“So did I. Let’s sign in.”
After the two nurses initialed their reports, Heather hovered around the desk attempting to make small talk with the doctor. Meg saw no reason to watch the sad scene play out and headed down the hall to the nurses’ station. Life would be so much easier if love were not a part of it.
19
CHERYL BEDNARZ LOOKED MORE LIKE A ZUMBA INSTRUCTOR THAN A PROSecutor, a look she worked hard to maintain. She knew that her age—twenty-seven—and her size—diminutive—had to be overcome by strength. So she made an effort to make up for those with boldness. As a child, she’d been both fearless and impulsive but now possessed drive and intelligence to temper her courage. Though not yet a seasoned attorney, she possessed a confident nature that belied her lack of experience. She knew the law backwards and forwards, yet she could never seem to impress her boss. Thanks to the trivial assignments she was handed, it had become more evident with each passing day that Jones had no faith in her at all. Two years of a practice filled with small victories still left her on the edge looking for one bit of praise and it had never come. Now, he’d dropped this into her lap. She was in charge of a firefight with the most powerful man in the community and maybe the state. It was the biggest case that had come into this office in years, so why did Jones make this move? Had he suddenly decided she was up to the task? No, she knew she hadn’t earned this case; it had to be avoidance. Jones had decided to punt the ball and now she had to not just catch that punt but find a way to make it to the end zone.
“Webb turned this case over to you?” Lauren Bass marveled while standing in front of the assistant district attorney’s desk.
Cheryl nodded as she glanced back at her assistant. Just two years younger than Bednarz, she too was green. While bright and well educated, the tall, attractive, African-American woman had a lot more miles to travel to get to the top on the learning curve. Thus, she seemed as unprepared to deal with this matter as the assistant district attorney. Yet in spite of her lack of seasoning, Cheryl had complete faith in Lauren. She also had as much faith in her own abilities.
“Kind of shocking,” Cheryl noted as she sat down at her desk in her small, windowless office. “He told me he had surgery planned for the week of the trial.”
“What kind?” Bass asked, taking a seat in an antique wooden chair beside the desk.
“Knee surgery.”
“Couldn’t he have put that off?”
“Of course,” Cheryl replied, “but the fact he didn’t isn’t a matter of his physical health. This is all about his political health. I’ve been set up. Jones wouldn’t touch this one with a ten-foot pole. If he loses, he gets beat in the election because his opponent will paint him as a political stooge giving in to the power of the Thomas family. If he wins, Thomas will see to it that his political career is over and there goes Webb’s dreams of being governor. He bailed on this because he knew he’d be ruined either way.”
Bass shook her head. “Where does that put you?”
Cheryl smiled. “As old Webb says at least three times every day, between the old rock and the hard place. If I win the case, I’m cooked, but Jones is fine. Thomas can’t touch him because he’s going to be out of the office due to surgery. If I lose, Jones fires me because I’m soft and can’t win the easy cases. So no matter which way you look at it, I’m going to lose and you’ll be working with someone other than me.”
“You don’t seem to be too upset about it,” Bass noted. “In fact, I seem to hear a bit of glee in your Texas drawl.”
“Lauren, Jones is sure I can’t take on Thomas and win. He’s sure I’ll fall on my face or maybe something else. He’s confident that I don’t have the experience to make the charges stick. But he doesn’t know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Bednarz stood up, moved to the side of her desk, and grinned. As she rubbed her hands together, she said, “I’ve been preparing for this for a decade. I know more about this kind of case than Jones ever will. And I don’t give a rip if Thomas tries to ruin me after I put his kid away. I will just move back home and work there. For Jones, Springfield is a launching pad, but for me it is a jumping-off point.”
“Hope you have a parachute,” Bass jabbed. “Thomas is powerful and it might be a long fall.”
“Don’t need one when you know how to land the plane,” Cheryl shot back. “You will soon understand why Webb’s nightmare is my dream! Now, let’s start going through these files. We’ve got work to do and a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time.”
20
HEATHER TURNED HER EYES TOWARD THE DOCTOR, SMILED, AND ASKED, “How do you like your new BMW?”
When he didn’t respond, she repeated her question. This time he noticed.
“I’m sorry, Heather, what did you say?”
“It’s not really important,” she shrugged. “Something on your mind?”
“Yeah,” Paul’s voice indicated a level of concern that he rarely showed. Tilting his head in the direction from which Meg had just walked, he queried, “You know her pretty well. How’s she doing today?”
Names were not necessary; Heather knew exactly whom Paul was talking about. “She seems to be doing all right. I mean, we went out for pizza last night and she sounded okay. Hey, she even spoke about some of the fun times that she and Steve had.”
Making eye contact with the
doctor, she asked, “You knew him, didn’t you?”
Shaking his head, Paul responded, “Not really. Saw him once or twice, but I never really knew him.”
“A lot of people thought he was a hunk,” Heather said. “You know the type, good-looking boy who always appeared full of himself.” She paused, wondering how to fully explain a man she’d so admired. Shaking her head, she continued, “He wasn’t that way at all. Yes, he was athletic and had a fun personality, but he was bright and kind of a saint, too. I know that sounds weird, but he was just that nice. In fact, he seemed just about perfect. I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone who could come close to measuring up to him. Boy, and how Meg loved him.”
Heather moved away from the desk to a far wall and leaned up against it. She folded her arms across her chest as Paul watched her every move. Sensing he wanted her to say more, she took a deep breath and continued. “Last night she talked about that, how much she loved him, how great he was, and I actually began to think she had found a way to work through it. I mean, I knew it would take a while, but for the first time since the accident, she seemed to be looking at the good things.”
“Well, Heather, then it sounds like she’ll bounce back pretty well.” Paul’s inflection caused his statement to come across more as a question rather than an observation.
“I don’t know.” Heather sighed moving from the wall and back to the man’s side. Only when she drew next to him and stared deeply into his eyes did she say what was really on her heart. The words came out in a whisper.
“After we finished eating, she did something that worried me all night. She took me by the home of the person driving the other car. She told me that she’d promised herself there would never be any good times in that home again. She said it with such conviction it caused chills to run up my back.” As she finished her story, Heather’s blue eyes searched his face with an expression that demanded a response.
