Exposed (34 page)

“She will,” a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Stunned, Tamia stared as Brandon strode purposefully into the room, bristling with authority.

“Hey, wait a minute—” Laramie protested.

“This interview is over,” Brandon said, cutting him off.

“Says who, Chambers?”

“Come now, Detective,” Brandon said with exaggerated patience. “You know you’re not supposed to be interrogating Miss Luke without an attorney present.”

“She waived her right to counsel!” Laramie blustered.

Lips twisted to one side, Brandon looked askance at Tamia. “Did you?”

She shook her head quickly. “I don’t even think I was asked.”

“I figured as much.” He grasped her upper arm, gently assisting her out of the chair and shepherding her from the room. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced back at the fuming detective and smiled narrowly.

“If I find out that any other of my client’s rights were violated, I’m coming after you personally.”

As an officer followed Brandon and Tamia to the outer waiting area, she eyed Brandon incredulously. “How … how did you know I was here?”

“Your sister tracked me down, said she didn’t know who else to call.”

Tamia gazed at him, marveling.“And you came.”

His eyes met hers.“Of course.”

Overcome with relief and gratitude, she hugged him long and hard, wishing she never had to let go.

But eventually, of course, she did.

“What happens to me now?” she asked in a choked whisper.

“You’ll be transferred to Joe Corley to await your arraignment
hearing. Unfortunately, the courts are closed for the weekend—”

Tamia was horrified.“You mean I have to spend the entire weekend in
prison?
”

Brandon looked grim.“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh God.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“You’ll be arraigned first thing on Monday morning,” Brandon gently explained.“Depending on how well things go, the judge might release you on bail. I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

Tamia nodded slowly.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow,”Brandon promised.“We can talk then.”

“Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you … for coming to my rescue.”

His expression softened.“Never crossed my mind not to.”

They sat across from each other in the small, private room reserved for attorneys and their clients. Brandon had a yellow legal pad in front of him on the table. It was filled with pages of notes. Tamia couldn’t help smiling, remembering the way she’d often teased him about being old school, telling him he needed to join the twenty-first century and get a OneNote tablet. She’d even thought of buying him one for his birthday.

A spasm of pain shot through her at the reminder that she’d never get to celebrate his birthday with him—even if she
didn’t
spend the rest of her life behind bars.

As Brandon scribbled more notes on his legal pad, she stared at him, devouring him with her eyes. No designer suit, no French cuffs, no Italian loafers. It was Saturday, so he was dressed casually in a white button-down shirt and black Roca-wear jeans. He looked good. Better than good—he looked wonderful.

Glancing up from his notes, he caught her watching him. As he silently returned her appraisal, her face heated with embarrassment. She was ashamed to let him see her like this, garbed in a prison-issue uniform instead of designer gear. Flip-flops on her feet instead of sexy stilettos.

She could see the pity in his eyes, the deep regret. It made her want to burst into tears.

“How was your night?” he asked gently.

“Not good,” she admitted.“I didn’t sleep a wink.”

“That’s understandable. This has been a very traumatic experience for you.”

She nodded, raking trembling fingers through her hair. “I keep thinking about Isabel,” she whispered.“Lying there … in a pool of blood … her eyes wide open … staring …” She shuddered uncontrollably. “I can’t get that image out of my mind.”

“Listen to me.” Brandon reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. “You have to hold it together, all right? I know that’s easier said than done under the circumstances. But believe me, this process will go much smoother if you keep a cool head. I’m gonna do everything I can to get you acquitted, but I need your help. So I can’t have you falling apart on me. Do you understand?”

Tamia nodded vigorously, holding his intent gaze. “I understand.”

“Good.”

His eyes lowered to his hand clasping hers. After a moment, he began rubbing his thumb back and forth across her knuckle, seemingly lost in reverie.

Tamia held her breath as she savored the connection, knowing it was as fragile as a gossamer film of cobwebs buffeted by a strong wind.

After several moments, Brandon slowly withdrew his hand and leaned back.

Their eyes met.

And for the first time in two weeks, Tamia felt a glimmer of hope that all was not lost between them.

Brandon cleared his throat.“Let’s talk strategy.”

“Okay.” She swallowed audibly. “They have a strong case against me, don’t they?”

“Not as strong as you think.”

“Really?”Tamia was surprised.“But they found me at the crime scene. And they have that incriminating tape of me—”

“I know.” Brandon grimaced. “Believe it or not, that recording is gonna be more problematic for us than your presence at the crime scene.
Problematic,
” he emphasized when her brow creased with worry,“but not insurmountable.”

She nodded slowly. “Why do you think their case isn’t strong?”

“Well, for starters, there’s no murder weapon. It’s hard for the police to pin a homicide on a suspect without a murder weapon. It’s not impossible, obviously. But it makes their case harder to prove. The officers who arrived on the scene reported that you were running from the den where the body was found. So when did you have a chance to dispose of the gun? They’re gonna have to come up with a plausible scenario in which you shot Isabel, ran out of the room to dispose of the gun, then returned to the den minutes before the officers got there. And where would you have disposed of the weapon? Somewhere inside the house? Outside? And why would you return once you’d left?” He shook his head.“Those questions have to be answered satisfactorily.”

Tamia nodded, leaning forward intently as he continued.

“Here’s another thing. If you’d just discharged a firearm, you should have had gunpowder residue on your hands when you were tested. But you didn’t. Not even a trace.”

“They think I wore gloves,”Tamia interjected.

“Then they need to produce them. Once again, you were running from the den when the police arrived. So when did you have an opportunity to get rid of the gloves? The officers searched you immediately. No gloves were found. They tested your hands for latex residue and other fibers. Again—nothing.
They’re still running tests on your clothes, but we know they’re not gonna find anything.”

Tamia nodded in agreement, bolstered by his confidence.

Brandon continued, “The officers were responding to a call from a neighbor who thought he heard gunshots coming from the Archer residence. So we’re gonna interview this neighbor, as well as others, to see if anyone saw you when you first arrived at the house. If we can find a witness who’ll corroborate that your car pulled up
after
the gunfire was reported to the police, then we’re in good shape. If we can find someone who may have seen the
real
perpetrator fleeing the scene, then we can successfully establish reasonable doubt.”

“Reasonable doubt?”Tamia echoed.

Brandon nodded.“Remember this. The burden of proof is on the prosecution and the police. They have to prove you’re guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. If this case goes to trial, it only takes one juror who strongly believes you’re innocent—and we’ve got a hung jury. Convince half of them of your innocence, and we’re looking at a likely ‘not guilty’ verdict.”

“Please, God,”Tamia whispered prayerfully.

Brandon grimaced. “Look, I’m not suggesting that any of this is going to be a cakewalk. It won’t be—not by any stretch of the imagination. But I just want you to understand that all’s not doom and gloom here.”

“I understand.”Tamia inhaled a deep breath, feeling lighter already. She thought of what her boss had said about Brandon.
Innocent or guilty, it seems that he’s the right man to have in your corner.

How prophetic those words had been, she mused, watching as Brandon picked up his pen to jot down another notation, as if he’d just remembered something else. He was in the zone—his mind racing at warp speed, analyzing, exploring different angles, devising strategies. She was fascinated by his brilliance, humbled by his willingness to help her, despite the way she’d hurt and betrayed him.

“So what do you think happened?” she asked him.

He glanced up questioningly.

“Who do you think killed Isabel?”

“I have a theory.” Brandon looked grim. “I think it was Dominic.”

Tamia’s eyes widened.“You think Dominic killed his wife?”

“I do,” Brandon said with certainty. “If he was capable of cheating on his wife and blackmailing you for sex, then he wasn’t above committing murder. Especially if he benefited from getting rid of Isabel—which he definitely did.”

A chill ran through Tamia.“What do you mean?”

“As you know, Isabel was planning to divorce Dominic and take him for all he’s worth. She retained our top divorce attorney, who kindly furnished me with a copy of the divorce papers. Isabel wanted everything—the houses, cars, vacation properties, stocks, and over eighty million dollars in alimony.”

Tamia whistled softly.“She really
was
serious about taking him to the cleaners.”

Brandon gave her an ironic half smile.“As the saying goes, hell hath no fury—”

“—like a woman scorned,”Tamia finished.

Brandon nodded.“Here’s the thing. Had Isabel lived, he’d have gotten wiped out in the divorce settlement. But if he found a way to get rid of her, he’d inherit a fortune as the sole beneficiary of her multimillion-dollar life insurance policy.”

“Oh my God,”Tamia breathed.“Are you serious?”

“Yup. Since they had no children, he’d get everything.”

“So he had
more
than enough motive for wanting Isabel dead.”

“Hell, yeah. And I intend to prove it.”

Tamia stared at him.“You mean … you’re going after Dominic?”

“Absolutely.” Brandon flashed a sharp, predatory smile that left no doubt in her mind that he relished the thought of escalating his war with Dominic.

She returned his smile, feeling like they were coconspira-tors.

“So Dominic has motive,” she said after a moment. “But what about opportunity? Isabel told me he was leaving for a business trip yesterday afternoon.”

“Was he really?” Brandon countered. “Or was that just a cover story to give himself an alibi?”

“Oh my God.” Tamia was struck by a sudden possibility. “Do you think he set me up?”

“That’s
exactly
what I think,” Brandon said unequivocally. “He’d been unfaithful to Isabel for years, so maybe she’d threatened to divorce him the next time she caught him cheating. He couldn’t allow that, so he came up with the idea to get rid of her before she could leave him. That’s where
you
enter the picture. He went out of his way to track you down and seduce you. He’d done his research; he knew how high the stakes were for you because you were dating the lieutenant governor’s son. So he figured you’d be desperate enough to do anything he asked. He deliberately let his wife find out about the affair to set up an adversarial relationship between the two of you. He dropped clues to let her know where you worked, where you went for a latte every day so she’d know where to find you and confront you. He didn’t cover his tracks in St. Croix because he
wanted
her to walk in on you having sex to-gether”—Brandon didn’t pause at Tamia’s surprised gasp—“because he knew that each confrontation would ratchet up the tension and animosity until one of you snapped. Namely—
you.
”

Tamia stared at Brandon, chilled by the scenario he’d just described. Suddenly she remembered what Dominic had told her that night when she’d called to tell him that she was being followed.
Even before I entered the picture, you’d already established a pattern of deception…. That’s what made you such an easy target.

She shuddered at the realization that he’d orchestrated
everything for the sole purpose of framing her for Isabel’s murder.

Brandon continued, “See, you were the perfect fall guy. A former porn star who supposedly lacked morals, who’d have credibility issues down the line. Dominic would portray you as a crazy, obsessed woman who killed his wife in a fit of jealous rage. Even now, as we speak, that’s what he’s telling Detective Laramie in an Oscar-worthy performance as the shocked, grieving husband.”

Tamia shook her head slowly, speechless for several moments.

“God, I’m such a fool,” she whispered.

Brandon was silent, neither confirming nor refuting her claim.

“I lost
everything
because I foolishly allowed myself to get caught up with that worthless, conniving son of a bitch.” Her nostrils flared, mouth tightening with fury. “If I beat this rap, I’m going after him, and I’m gonna kill him.”

Brandon coughed into his fist. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

They traded quick, conspiratorial grins.

After another moment, Brandon glanced down at his watch.“Well, I’d better run.”

Awash with disappointment, Tamia asked, “Heading back to the office?”

He hesitated.“Not quite.”

Something in his evasive tone put her on edge. She eyed him for several moments. As comprehension dawned, a stab of jealousy slashed through her heart.

“You have plans … with Cynthia?”

Another pause, this one longer.“Yes.”

“Oh.”Tamia faltered, then drew a shaky breath that burned in her lungs.“Are you dating her now?”

Brandon sighed.“Let’s not get into this right now. We have more important things to worry—”

“I was there that night,”Tamia blurted.