“The first thing we need to do is get the facts straight and get your side of the story. Forgive me, but I really have to ask this question. Did you kill those girls?”
His eyes widened. “No,” he said vehemently, hands slamming the table. “I did not kill anyone, Ms. Paxton.”
“Then why do they think you did?” Mark asked, leaning forward, a challenge in his voice.
Roger sank back into his chair, his fight seeming to evaporate. “I guess they need someone to blame.” He exhaled loudly and then rested his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to them. “Look, I would like to think my own attorneys have confidence in my innocence. Mr. Paxton believed me. What do I need to do to prove to you that I’m innocent?” There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice.
Mark sat the pencil he held on the table. “I assure you, we are aware of Mr. Paxton’s feeling on the matter.” Mark paused and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you because you are facing some tough times and you need to be ready. A jury will want to believe you’re guilty.” When Roger started to speak, Mark held up a staying hand. “Just hear me out.” Roger sat back in his chair and reluctantly nodded. “The jury will want vindication for those girls. Crying parents and friends in the courtroom will only make matters worse. We,” he waved a finger between him and Lindsey, “are human, just like the jury. The only difference is that we have a job to do. And that job is to provide you with the best defense available. In the end, guilty or innocent, we are protecting the system that protects the people of our nation by offering you our best. We are good at our jobs and neither of us like to lose.”
Roger started shaking his head, distress in the depths of his eyes. “You think I’m guilty.”
Lindsey leaned forward, giving Roger a direct look. “We don’t have any opinions at this point. None. But in reality, our opinions don’t matter. It’s what the jury thinks that counts. Our job is to make sure they vote not guilty.”
“But if you believe in me, it will affect how you represent me. Do you deny that as fact?” he challenged.
Lindsey swallowed. He was right, but an attorney never admitted that out loud. Mark saved her the discomfort of answering by jumping in with a quick reply. “Actually, I do. You will get the best defense possible, regardless of our opinions.”
“That’s right,” Lindsey said in quiet agreement. It was really true. Lindsey and Mark were both good at their jobs, a lot better than a lot of attorneys ever hoped to be. Years off the job made her no less confident in her ability to deliver results.
When Roger didn’t reply, Mark flipped open his notebook and pulled out a piece of paper, then slid it in front of him. “This is a list of questions. I need you to take the time and answer them in detail. Today if possible.”
Roger picked up the paper and scanned it. Lindsey discreetly eyed it herself. She didn’t know Mark had prepared the questionnaire, but she couldn’t help but be impressed. Still, she would have liked to have known in advance.
“There’s a lot of questions here,” Roger commented.
Mark nodded. “Yes, there are. Everything I could think of, up to this point, that opposing counsel will target or ask in any way, shape, or form. There are some key questions we need to go ahead and discuss. Once we review the completed questionnaire, we will be likely to have a lot more to discuss as well.”
Lindsey cleared her throat. “That said, let’s get those key questions answered. She looked at her notes. “Did you know any or all of the victims?” She knew the answer already but it was good to hear it from him, the way he would tell the prosecutor.
“They were students in my classes,” Roger responded.. A flash of pain dashed through his eyes.
“Two of them died on nights that you tutored them,” Mark commented.
“I know, but I didn’t kill them. Someone must have been watching. I tutored all of them at least two times, but not during the same semester.” He looked from Lindsey to Mark. “I swear, I feel like someone is framing me.”
His response did little to help his defense, and Mark dismissed it with his next question. “Is there anyone you suspect? A student who knew them all, another teacher?”
“My classes are huge,” he said in a defeated tone. “We are talking a major university here. I don’t even know all of the students’ names. The ones who take advantage of tutoring are really the only ones I know well.”
Mark’s expression remained indiscernible. “Where can we get a list of everyone you tutored?”
“I’m required to key tutoring information into a database at the university, but I keep records at my house as well. My sister is watching over my place, so if you need the list, she can help you.”
Lindsey was desperate for some sort of bone, a tidbit to help her defend him. “We need another common denominator other than you. A place the girls hung out, a person they all hung out with, something, anything?
He shook his head as he spoke. “There are popular hangouts for the campus crowds, but as I said, NYU is a big school with a massive student body,” he said in a defeated tone and then added, “and a multitude of hangouts to match.”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “What about the last victim, Elizabeth Moore? You were seen going into her home the night of her murder.”
Roger ran a hand through his hair. “She was getting over losing her mother to cancer. I was like a father figure to her, I think. She was having trouble with her grades and really life in general.” He frowned, his eyes seeming to replay the past. “She started crying during the tutoring session that night, so I offered to walk her home. To be honest, I was worried that she was on the brink of a real disaster.”
Lindsey interjected, “What do you mean disaster?”
“She was partying a lot, drinking too much. I knew because she was late to class several times, and she had fallen asleep during lectures, that kind of thing. I confronted her during a tutoring session and told her she was making it hard as hell for me to pass her.” He shook his head. “The girl was headed for trouble.”
“Do you know where she usually partied?” Lindsey asked.
He grimaced. “I’m afraid not. It was out of character for me to even speak of personal matters with a student.” He glanced from Mark to Lindsey as if he was trying to read their thoughts. “It doesn’t look good for me, does it?”
Lindsey responded in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, carefully avoiding promises of any sort. “The evidence is fairly circumstantial from what we can tell.” She held up a finger. “However,” she said with emphasis, “it would help if we had another angle on the murders, another suspect perhaps. That’s what we’re going to look for over the next few days.”
“Mr. Williams,” Mark said and then paused. “Roger,” he corrected before continuing. “We do need you to know, people have been convicted on far less evidence. Though Lindsey is absolutely correct, the evidence is fairly circumstantial, the reality still stands as mentioned before; the jury will want justice for those girls. You are the common denominator, and without anything else for us to latch onto, it will be hard to create doubt in their minds.” Mark spoke the cold, hard truth. Though she had gotten Hudson off in similar circumstances, he hadn’t had some as incriminating as the visit to Elizabeth Moore’s house.
“Do you have any enemies?” Mark asked.
“No, none,” he said adamantly. “I keep to myself.”
Mark’s expression held skepticism, as did his tone. “None? Come now, everyone has some enemies.”
“Really,” Roger insisted. “I keep to myself.”
Lindsey thought he seemed a bit of a hermit. “Have you ever lived out of state?”
“No, why?” he asked in a puzzled voice.
“Just being thorough,” she commented. “Can you think of anything else we should know?”
“No,” he said in a defeated tone. “I wish I could say I did.”
Mark stood, and Lindsey followed his lead. Roger’s head flew up to
watch their movement, but he didn’t stand. “We’ll be in contact,” Lindsey told him. “We’re filing a continuance to get more investigation time. We feel optimistic we’ll get it under the circumstances, but we’ll keep you posted.”
Mark added, “Finish that questionnaire.”
Walking around the table, Mark knocked on the door as he hit a buzzer. Lindsey frowned. The double-kill action indicated impatience, but upon examination of his features, Mark was nothing but calm.
Something had him uptight. She wondered . . .
* * * * *
Mark hated interrogation rooms.
Walking, Lindsey by his side, he was damn glad to be done with Roger Williams.
Opening the passenger’s door to his black BMW, he let his hand drift to the small of Lindsay’s back as he guided her into the car and tried not to stare at her very long, very addictive legs. A much-needed distraction from the edginess that had built during their little chat with Roger. He shut the door and walked to his side of the car, Lindsey on his mind.
Damn, how he wanted to pull down her walls and see the real woman. There was no doubt in his mind they would sizzle together.
Working by her side only seemed to ignite the heat he felt for her. Something about the way she handled herself . . . her confidence was sexy as hell. And he’d taken every opportunity possible to touch her, to remind her of the attraction between them. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, she twisted around to face him.
“What do you think?” she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.
He rubbed his temple and sighed, intentionally turning away from Lindsey. He needed to focus on Roger Williams rather than getting Lindsey undressed. “I think,” he said, “I have a headache.”
“Is that why you were so impatient to get the door open?”
Mark’s head jerked around in surprise. “How did you know that?”
Lindsey smiled. “Never underestimate me, Mark Reeves. Have you always been claustrophobic?”
His eyes narrowed. No one had ever guessed his phobia. He was very good at hiding it. That Lindsey had, only served to make her more alluring. “Since I was five and got locked in a cellar for four hours. Those interrogation rooms always seem to bring it back. I know damn well I wasn’t obvious. How did you guess?”
She shrugged. “I had a friend in high school who was claustrophobic. When you knocked and hit the buzzer at the same time, it set off a light bulb.”
A slow smile filled Mark’s face. He had to respect her sharpness. No wonder she had been so successful in the courtroom. Mark flipped the air conditioner on high and then turned his attention back to Lindsey. “You know what I think, Counselor?”
She gave him a questioning look.
“You haven’t lost your touch,” he said, and then reached out and ran his fingers down a strand of her long blond hair.
“How would you know?” she questioned. “You’ve never even seen me in action before.”
Mark’s eyes danced with a dangerous challenge. “I’d like to,” he said in a low voice, not taking his eyes from hers.
He saw her swallow, and knew she was nervous. But he also had seen the flare of heat in her eyes. Abruptly, she looked away. “Is he innocent, Mark?”
He chuckled lightly at her change of subjects, letting her know he was onto her. “What do you think?”
She turned her gaze to him and frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not comfortable going with my gut anymore.”
“You think he is innocent,” he stated flatly. He already knew the answer.
She shrugged. “My instincts—for what that’s worth⎯tell me he is innocent.” She refocused on him. “What’s your gut reaction?”
His lips firmed. “I never go with gut feelings. As for facts, we don’t have enough for me to make an educated guess.” He turned towards the steering wheel and then glanced back at her. “We need that list of students.”
Lindsey pulled her briefcase from the backseat and removed a small file. When she’d finally gone to bed the night before, she hadn’t been able to sleep. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, she’d gotten up and done something productive. “I printed maps and directions off the Internet last night for anyplace I thought we might need to go.” Lindsey shuffled the papers in the file. “Here,” she said pulling out a map. “Home address and a map.” She handed the paper to Mark.
His brow arched up. “You’re quite thorough, aren’t you?” His lips turned up.
Lindsey cocked her head to one side and peered at Mark, a smile slipping onto her lips. “Did you expect less?” A hint of flirtation laced her words.
He smiled, feeling a wave of satisfaction. “Oh, no, definitely not.”
Her smile widened. “Well then, let’s start at our client’s home.”
* * * * *
They arrived at the townhouse, finding it to be only a few blocks from the NYU campus, in a quiet neighborhood. Roger Williams’ home was located on street level with a small patio entrance. Lindsey scanned the streets as Mark pushed some ivy aside to punch the buzzer on the door. When there was no response immediately, Lindsey reached across Mark and punched it again.
He gave her a look. “Now who’s impatient?”
She shrugged. “I admit it,” she said, and reached out and jiggled the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Damn,” she muttered.
Mark shot her a scowl. “That’s breaking and entering,” he reprimanded.
She shrugged again. Years in the FBI had taught her to push the envelope at times. A lot of agents did, they just didn’t admit it, and they damn sure made sure they didn’t get caught. “Arrest me, but . . .” she paused and wrinkled her nose, “get the charge right. It was attempted breaking and entering. And . . .” she held up a finger, “if it had been unlocked, there would be no breaking-in to be done.” Lindsey scanned the street and then turned back to Mark. “Watch the sidewalk for me for a minute, and tell me if anyone is coming.”
She headed for a window with a cluster of bushes offering coverage. Mark reached out and grabbed her arm. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
She shot him a glowering look and yanked her arm free. “Getting that list.” She pointed towards the street. “Watch for people.”
“Lindsey, no,” he said in an abrupt voice. She rolled her eyes, and darted away before he could grab her again. Men. Steve had hated some of her tactics, but he’d eventually learned to accept who she was. No way was she letting a criminal get away because she was afraid to push the envelope. She’d let Hudson escape, and that was her one and only mistake.
If she got in trouble for going above and beyond, so be it. Better that than the guilt of seeing a killer go free. She had every intention of getting this case right. No way was she letting it turn out like Hudson’s. Stopping in front of the window, her hands planted on her hips, she looked at Mark, her instincts telling her he was going to be a problem. “Mark, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
When she turned back to the window, she heard him grumble something inaudible. No doubt a complaint. This had to be done. She pulled the screen off the window and then jiggled the bottom of the seal. A smile slipped onto her lips the instant she found it unlocked. In a quick jerk, she raised the window and climbed through it.
Once inside the house, she leaned out of the window. She peered out at Mark who was scanning the street, his body stiff with tension. “Psst,” she whispered. “Mark.”
He looked up, his eyes sharp with anger as he moved towards her. She pointed to the screen beneath the window. “Put it back in, and I’ll let you in the front.” She shut the window before he could refuse and headed towards the door.
Lindsey found herself in a small, quaint, living area with a rock fireplace, and filled with high-back, woodsy furnishings and lots of bookshelves. She grimaced. Didn’t look like a psychotic killer’s home to her. Of course, what do the homes of psychotic killers look like?
Moving through the room with a swift, catlike motio
n, she was at the front door in seconds, unlocking the deadbolt. Pulling the heavy wooden door open, she frowned when she didn’t see Mark. Peeking outside, she found Mark messing with the window screen. She rolled her eyes at his back. “What are you doing?” she asked in an irritated whisper. “Just leave it!” He dropped the screen to the ground and started moving towards her. “Are you trying to look suspicious or what?”
“If you wouldn’t have bent the damn thing, it wouldn’t be a problem,” he said in a whispered reprimand as he shot her a glowering look. In a few crisp steps, he followed her through the door, pulling it shut behind him. “You’re killing me, woman,” he said through clenched teeth.
Lindsey gave Mark her back, moving through the hall to look for an office area. She could feel Mark’s eyes on her back as she disappeared into a room, and almost feel his frustration across the distance. She was already sitting at a small computer desk booting up a computer when he entered the room. A plump, white Persian cat came up and started rubbing on her leg.
“Oh, damn,” she muttered with irritation. She looked at Mark. “I’m allergic to cats,” she explained as she shoved the animal away with her leg just as the first sneeze hit her, followed immediately by two more. She sniffed, feeling the itching in her eyes already starting. “Damn, I’ll be sneezing all night.”
Mark didn’t comment. He was just standing there, staring at her. His expression said she was a major pain-in-the-ass. She didn’t care. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Mark said, watching her tab through computer files.
She glanced up at him and then back to the computer screen. “We’re trying to help our client,” she reasoned. “He told us to get this information from his computer.” Then to herself, “Let’s see, what would this be called . . .” Her voice trailed off as she quickly thumbed through files.
“Here,” she said, punching Enter. “I think I found it.” She shot Mark a look that said I told you so, which only served to deepen the scowl on his face.
A few more keypunches and Lindsey sent the document to print. Mark sighed behind her and started rummaging through the desk. Lindsey smiled to herself. She turned to look at him. “Find anything?” And despite her effort, a hint of laughter slipped into her voice.
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