Dangerous Reunion Page 17

  With the clarity of time and distance, Ben could see exactly what Sam had said: his testimony had helped the defense more than the prosecution. He’d gone beyond his usual scope; he hadn’t stayed totally professional, just the facts, sir. He’d let the defense make it personal.

  Then Yashi had made it real personal.

  His silence lasted so long that when she broke it, she was hesitant and cautious. “Do you not want to talk about this?”

  He’d said only one word since the conversation started. She must feel like she was talking to herself, and it was hard, she’d told him once, for an ADA to talk without an audience.

  “I’m still considering your choice of the word waffling.”

  Relief warmed her voice. “I could have said dithering.”

  “I think I prefer waffling.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, then let a sigh escape him. “I, uh, I think I may have been, uh...wrong about some things. Definitely about some. I just... Hell.” He muttered the last part, not meant for her.

  It was hard, when he’d been the injured party whose life was totally upended due to someone else’s wrongdoing, to give up the martyrdom. He wasn’t wrong often. He had little experience with it. He’d learned right off the bat that it was so easy to put the blame elsewhere, to paint himself as totally in the right. In the beginning, he believed it fiercely, and then he’d pushed it to the back of his mind, where he didn’t have to deal with it. Didn’t have to examine his own behavior. Didn’t have to give up his status of Yashi’s victim who’d done nothing but love and trust the wrong person.

  “The big mistakes were mine. I was too driven and maybe naive about my expectations. You were the only man I’d ever loved. I guess I thought it meant more. You know, through good and bad, sickness and health, richer or poorer. I thought you would take my questions the way I meant them—as business. Nothing personal.”

  “We were dating, Yashi, not married,” he reminded her. Maybe not as impatiently or bitterly or angrily as he would have done before.

  Though the idea of marriage had crossed his mind with increasing frequency in the weeks leading up to the trial. Even if it hadn’t, he still understood what she was saying. If they’d been committed enough to consider marriage, they should have been committed enough to work through that one single day. He should have been more professional. She should have gotten less personal.

  Neither of them had planned their actions. He’d gotten suckered in by the defense attorneys; she’d reacted. He’d known even then that she hadn’t kept track of things he said privately that might be used against him in court. His comment had been recent, and it fit the situation. That was why she’d dragged it up.

  The bed squeaked as she resettled, presumably turning to lay her head at the top again, adding six feet of distance between them. “Well, anyway, I just wanted you to know that I really am sorry. For what I did, for any hard feelings I caused in the department. For breaking my heart and hurting yours, too. For...everything.”

  Hurting his heart. Such an understatement.

  The bed creaked again and covers rustled, then she yawned. Half a second later, so did he. He thought he could sleep now, but he had one more question first.

  “Does your cat ever go to sleep and fall off one of these shelves?”

  “Only on occasion.” Her tone lightened. “Don’t worry. He always lands on his feet on a chair. Usually right about where your head is.” Another choked-back laugh. “Good night, Ben.”

  “Good night, Yashi.”

  Words he’d thought he would never say again. He wondered what others might be lurking in the back of his memories that might also find their way out.

  Chapter 9

  Tuesday was hot and sunny, humidity and temperature both in the high nineties. Yashi dressed in shorts and a tank top, barely able to stand the idea of clothing wilting against her skin, and sipped her coffee while leaning against the kitchen counter.

  Ben, barefooted and wild haired, stood outside the bathroom door. His boxers were black and clung low on his hips, exposing oh, so much beautiful skin and amazing musculature, especially in the long lines of his back. It took her breath away, seeing all that gorgeousness first thing in the morning. He filled the room, sucked all the air out of it to leave her light-headed, but she knew from experience that seeing him almost naked left her light-headed even in the great outdoors. It wasn’t too little oxygen. It was so very much him.

  He scowled in her direction. “I’m not doing it.”

  She raised her free hand in self-defense. “All I said was there are towels on the counter if you want to shower. Here. Have some coffee. It’ll make you feel better.”

  It would, too, even if it had nothing in common with the vile sludge he preferred. It also made him grimace when he took the first sip. It always did.

  Yashi had loved falling in love with Ben, learning all his quirks. Every day had meant a discovery, and it had been exciting and exhilarating and new. But there was something so very comfortable about already knowing a person. To know habits and routines, to be familiar with his stories and his experiences and his challenges and triumphs. To feel a part of his life.

  For however long or short a time it might be.

  It had been nice talking to him after they went to bed last night. It was easier to unburden herself in the dark, when only the wobbles or anger or hurt in her voice could betray her emotions. She’d loved after-bed talks with her mom, when she shared her fears and upsets and savored the good things in her life. She had scooched to the side of her bed, and her mother had lain in the space that was left, and they’d talked softly, sang songs and said prayers in the moonlight. They were some of her best memories.

  Ben picked up the coffee, grimaced at the flavor and turned to the refrigerator. She’d looked at the pizza still left from Friday night and decided it was past its eat-by date, but he didn’t feel such qualms. He took out the box, offered her a slice, then took both when she shook her head. One went into the microwave to heat. The other he ate cold.

  “I’m going to drop you off at the hospital before I go home and change,” he said. “Dr. Armstrong figures it will do Brit good to spend time with you, but we’ll have to see about Theo. Either Quint or Lois will be there all day for protection.”

  He must have been getting texts already this morning, since she hadn’t heard him talking on the phone. Speaking of phones, she hadn’t looked at hers in too long. Her business wasn’t so steady that she got a lot of calls, so she made do with two numbers on the one phone, but she’d ignored the business ring since Morwenna’s call Saturday morning.

  Something she could deal with this morning if Theo threw her out of his hospital room.

  “You could just take me to your house, and I’ll get my car—” When he gave her a sharp look, she fell silent. She wasn’t used to not having the freedom to go whenever she wanted. It didn’t chafe—she fully understood the reasons—but it took a little getting used to.

  Cellophane crinkled when she took a honey bun from the cabinet, then she folded out the dining table and sat down with it and her coffee. “What are you going to do today?”

  He gave the second bench a skeptical look, apparently found it lacking and leaned against the cabinets, crossing his ankles. “Looking more into Debbie and Gerry Dillard’s backgrounds. See where she got the money for the house. Try to find a connection between them and Lloyd.” He paused, then added, “Maybe talk to Lloyd.”

  “Give him my best,” she said sarcastically. She never would have gotten rich in the DA’s office, but she’d liked her job. She’d been doing something a lot of lawyers weren’t suited for, and she’d traded it, in part because of Wind, for cases that any paralegal could handle if not for the little matter of a law degree. And because she didn’t take on criminal cases—there was still way too much of the prosecutor in her for that—she would never get within spitti
ng distance of rich. Maybe, if she continued to work hard and was lucky, she could continue to pay her bills.

  Lloyd Wind would be able to do a whole lot more than just pay his bills.

  “Now that he’s got his millions from the state, he might even be grateful to you.”

  “I’d still like to punch him in the face.” Just on general principles. If he was behind the kidnapping, she’d want to do far worse to him.

  “That would be quite a headline. ‘Former ADA assaults man wrongfully convicted of murder.’”

  She savored the assault part but wrinkled her nose at the wrongfully convicted part. After scraping a fingertip’s worth of frosting from the bun, she paused before putting it in her mouth. “Do you think he’s involved in this?”

  Ben hesitated. Considering his options? Or thinking about his admission last night that he had been wrong about some things? Which things? she’d wanted to ask. Breaking up with her? Siding with Wind? Was he having doubts about the man’s guilt or about his own reactions? Regretting that he hadn’t given them a chance to recover from her misstep?

  All of it, she hoped. She had friends from law school who worked the defense side of the courtroom but married into the prosecution side. She’d wondered how that held up outside the courthouse but assumed it did, since they were married. She had no problem with Ben having a differing opinion. It had just been so much easier when they’d agreed on every case.

  “I don’t know,” he finally replied. “But his good fortune in having Gerry Dillard come forward and take the blame so he could be set free... Quint was right. It was awfully convenient that Gerry needed to clear his conscience, especially considering that he never seemed to have much of one.”

  He was having doubts, and that pleased one part of her. Mostly, though, she wanted the truth. Well, mostly, she wanted Will and Lolly back safe. After that, she wanted a second chance with Ben. Then she wanted the truth.

  He finished his pizza about the same time she took the last bite of her roll. She got shoes, her purse and a jacket, in case the hospital air-conditioning was set on arctic freeze, and he dressed in yesterday’s uniform, only mildly perturbed by the cat hair decorating his shirt. He shook it off, glowered at Bobcat, back on a high perch where he could see all and glower back, and they left the house for his truck.

  At the hospital, he didn’t pull up to the front entrance and let her walk fifteen feet to the door. She hadn’t thought he might. He parked to one side, made sure the security guard saw the badge on his belt and went inside with her.

  Theo’s room was at the end of a short hall on the second floor. The door was open, and voices came from inside—Brit’s, Quint’s, but no Theo. Was he still trapped in silence in the nightmare of the past few days?

  The possibility made her heart hurt. It also made her steps falter before she reached the door. Ben glanced at her, then went ahead. “Hey, Brit. I brought you company.”

  “Yashi?” Brit’s footsteps skittered across the room, and when she looked past Ben, her face lit up. “I’m so glad you’re here. I love Officer Quint, but he doesn’t know anything about good music, he doesn’t have a social media account, he thinks I shouldn’t date until I’m twenty-nine, and he doesn’t discuss politics. He won’t even say whether he likes Grandma Kissed a Gaucho—” she fluttered her left hand with their newly polished nails “—better than You’re Such a Budapest.” Her right hand joined the fluttering.

  From his position leaning on the windowsill, Quint patiently replied, “You and I agreed to disagree about what constitutes good music. You have enough social media accounts for us both, I bet Yashi agrees with the dating, and purple is purple.”

  Brit made a big show of rolling her eyes as she pulled Yashi in for a hug. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispered. “Theo’s still not talking, except when he cries for Mom and Daddy, and I miss them, too. I’m afraid for him, and I’m afraid for them, and—Oh, Yashi.”

  Yashi wrapped her arms around the girl, stroking her hair and rocking slightly side to side, the way Lolly did. It did her a world of good to hold Brit, and would do a world more to hold Theo, but a glance at him over Brit’s head showed him curled on his side, staring at the wall. Poor little guy. She felt helpless and guilty and responsible, and she wanted to make everything right, and she couldn’t. That might be the worst part: that she was as helpless as he was.

  “Hey, buddy.” Ben crouched next to the bed, placing himself where Theo couldn’t avoid seeing him. “Are they treating you good here?”

  Theo’s gaze twitched to look at him, then it twitched back.

  “Is there anything I can bring you from home? Clean pajamas? Your pillow?”

  Theo didn’t respond.

  “Maybe that buffalo on your desk? What’s his name?”

  Again, Theo’s hollow gaze shifted back to Ben’s face, and he gave the tiniest of nods. “Bernie,” he whispered in the tiniest of voices.

  “All right, buddy. I’ll bring Bernie by later today. I’m leaving Yashi here. You keep an eye on her, okay?”

  Theo stole a look at Yashi, then repeated the little nod. Yashi was so grateful to not see rage in those blue eyes that tears tried to seep into her own.

  Ben patted him on the shoulder, stood up and came to the doorway. “Anything you want, Brit, borrow your cousin’s phone and text me.”

  The girl released Yashi and hugged him instead. “Ha. You’re not going through my stuff, Officer Bear. Who knows what you’ll find?”

  He grinned as he pulled away. “We’ve already been through your stuff.” He tsked, making her shriek, gave a nod to Quint and walked out of the room.

  Brit turned to Quint. “Did you guys really go through my stuff? Did you look in my drawers? Oh God, did you look in my desk?”

  Yashi tuned out Quint’s laconic responses and watched Ben stride down the corridor. Stay safe. When they were together, she’d whispered that every morning when he’d headed for work, every night when he’d gone home instead of sleeping over—pretty much every time he’d left her. Long after their affair had ended, she’d prayed some version of it until finally she’d decided it was hurting her more than it was helping him. She’d had to let him go.

  Now she couldn’t let him go without falling back into routine.

  Stay safe.

  * * *

  Lloyd Wind had been in investments before his arrest, working from an office he’d built on First Street on the edge of downtown. He’d razed the original building, replacing it with a modern brick-and-glass cube, about which the best that could be said was It’s small. It stuck out like a miniature poodle in a pack of bloodhounds.

  Ben and Daniel stood in the parking lot behind it, big enough for four cars and a dumpster. A narrow lane allowed access to the street a block north, and a single door opened into the building. Ben took advantage of the shade from the neighboring building, but Daniel stood in the sun, looking around. When he spoke, his question wasn’t what Ben expected, but it didn’t surprise him. Daniel was interested in every aspect of a case.

  “What kind of money does an investment broker make in a town like Cedar Creek?”

  “There were only two in town before Lloyd went to trial. Now there’s one.” Ben shrugged. “How many people do you know who have money to invest?”

  Cedar Creek wasn’t a rich town. The residents were farmers, ranchers, teachers and civil servants. They worked in the manufacturing plants or at the grocery stores, they paid mortgages and car payments and sent their kids to school. Their retirement plans, if they had them, were handled by their employers. There were wealthy people in town, but they were a minority.

  “But Wind had a Jag and a Mercedes. He lived in a big house up on the hill. His lawyers were high dollar. Where was that money coming from?”

  “He had a fair amount of debt. Nothing he couldn’t manage, but more than most people I know.�
� Ben rubbed the tight muscles in his neck. Doubting Lloyd’s story—doubting himself—was giving him a stress headache, but he couldn’t avoid it even if he wanted to. Not with Lolly and Will’s lives in the balance. Brit and Theo’s future. His own and Yashi’s futures. “He could have embezzled a little here and there from clients who didn’t notice. He could have had a sideline that paid cash under the table. But from the very first time we talked to him—and I mean before he even finished reporting finding the body—his lawyers were at his side, advising him not to cooperate. We had to get a court order for just about everything, including his books. Moneywise, everything looked legit.”

  “That’s the point, isn’t it, when someone’s embezzling? That the first set of books looks good enough that the cops don’t go looking for a second set.” Daniel walked to the dumpster, kicking a beer can against the cinder-block wall behind it. More cans, a few bottles and cigarette butts littered the ground. “People come back here to drink?”

  “When the bars close.” There were only two in the downtown area, and this spot was halfway between them. “Lloyd’s lawyers floated the idea that one of them did it. We checked the regulars, and none of them admitted to being here that night. That was probably the one time there weren’t any empties out here for us to fingerprint. Lloyd claimed he didn’t know the guy, had never seen him, and that he’d gone home shortly after seven, but his cell phone pinged here at nine forty-five. The victim’s cell phone was missing, but carrier records showed that he’d called Lloyd three times before, each call lasting less than ten seconds. Lloyd said he was home before he realized he forgot his phone. His assistant said first time we interviewed her that the man had been in once before—she’d run into him on her way out—but after a second look at his picture, she said she’d been mistaken. The Winds’ housekeeper said she heard him and her arguing the morning after the murder about him being out late, but Mrs. Wind said the argument was about another time and that night he’d gotten home a few minutes after seven. By the time he went to trial, the housekeeper had gone back to Oaxaca to care for her elderly father.”