Fatal Judgment (35 page)

Mark chuckled and extended his hand to Jake. “I’ll leave you two to sort this out.”

Taking the man’s fingers in a firm clasp, Jake gave him a steady look. “Thank you for everything.”

“All part of the job.” He nodded toward Liz. “And on the personal front—good luck.”

One corner of Jake’s mouth lifted. It was the closest thing to a smile he’d been able to manage since her abduction. “Thanks.”

As Mark headed down the hall, Spence propped one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “We have kind of an interesting situation. Reynolds’s sister is here. Has been for the past two hours. She wants to talk to Liz.”

Jake’s lips settled into a grim line. “No way.”

“I figured you’d say that. But here’s the thing. We checked her out, and she’s totally on the up-and-up. A model citizen. Churchgoer. Dedicated teacher. Peace Corps volunteer. She’s very distressed about what her brother did and wants to apologize.”

Liz stirred, and Jake angled toward the room. “She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need some stranger crying on her shoulder.”

“You could ask, anyway. It ought to be her decision, don’t you think?”

Yeah, he did. But he also wanted to protect her from any more emotional trauma.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. I’ll be right here.”

Closing the door, Jake returned to Liz’s side. A few seconds later her eyelids fluttered open.

“I feel like a truck hit me.” She rasped out the words in a husky voice he didn’t recognize.

“Close enough.” He took her hand. It felt right in his. Like that was where it belonged. “But all the tests indicate you’ll be fine. Once your two cracked ribs and all those bruises heal, that is. You may be stuck with that sultry voice for a while, though.”

“Sultry, huh?” She managed a small smile. “That’s an adjective that’s never been applied to me before. So why are you still here? You look exhausted.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Trying to get rid of me, huh?”

“You need to go home and sleep.”

Tenderness tightened his throat. “Later.”

She sighed and shook her head. “You’re one stubborn man, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse.” A grin tugged at his lips.

Hers twitched in response. “I’ll bet. Okay, if you’re going to stay, why don’t you fill me in on what happened?”

“How about later? When you’re feeling better.”

“How about now?”

“And you’re calling me stubborn?”

She made a face at him. “Get used to it.”

He gave her a slow, warm smile. “I think I’d like that.”

Her eyes widened, but rather than give her time to dwell on his comment, he launched into a quick, top-line recap.

When he finished, twin furrows creased her brow. “There was no way to get to me without taking Reynolds down?”

“No.” He squeezed her hand, and his jaw hardened. “It was you or him, Liz. And that was no contest. He doesn’t deserve one ounce of sympathy.”

“It sounds like he had a lot of bad breaks in his life.”

“That doesn’t condone murder.” His tone was flat. Cold. “He killed your sister. And he almost succeeded in killing you.”

“I know.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and he softened his voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so blunt. But I have no sympathy for the guy.”

“It’s okay.” She blinked and swallowed. “I feel the same way. And I’m struggling with that. We’re supposed to love our enemies. But I can’t even contemplate forgiveness at this point, let alone love.”

“That’s understandable.” More than. Personally, he doubted he’d ever get past the hate.

She played with the edge of the sheet. “Did he have a family?”

“One sister.” He gave her a few facts about the woman.

“Does she know what happened?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. Spence was right. This was Liz’s decision. “Actually, she’s here at the hospital. Hoping to see you. To apologize, I think. Spence says she’s pretty broken up about the whole thing.”

Liz caught her lower lip between her teeth, her expression uncertain.

“You don’t have to talk to her.”

“I know. But maybe I should. Maybe I can find the route to forgiveness through her.”

“Don’t count on it.” He gave her a skeptical look.

“It’s worth a try, though. Let her come in, Jake.”

Not at all certain she was making the right decision, Jake moved to the door. Spence was still outside. Still on protective duty.

“She says she’ll talk to the sister.”

“Take over for a minute while I get her, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Jake stayed by the door, one eye on the hall, one on Liz. Her generosity blew him away. Despite being battered and traumatized, she was trying to follow the dictates of her faith. And setting an example he wasn’t sure he could live up to.

Two minutes later, Spence appeared with Patricia Reynolds. The woman was dressed as she had been earlier, but her complexion had lost all its color, and grief had strained her features, pulling her mouth into a taut line.

When they drew near, Jake turned toward Liz. “She’s here. But it’s not too late to change your mind.”

Although her fingers bunched the sheet, she shook her head.

Stepping aside, he ushered Patricia in and motioned Spence to the other side of the bed. He wasn’t letting the woman out of arm’s reach.

Patricia’s face crumpled as she looked down at Liz. “Oh my!” The appalled words were breathed more than spoken. “They told me you were badly hurt, but I had no idea . . .” Her fingers flexed on her purse, and her knuckles turned white. “I’m so sorry for everything, Judge Michaels. I just wanted you to know that. And to tell you Marty wasn’t always like this. He used to be a fine, responsible, caring man.”

She started to open her purse, and Jake’s hand shot out to stop her.

“We already checked it, Jake.”

At Spence’s quiet comment, he withdrew his hand.

Patricia pulled out a snapshot and held it up for Liz to see. “This is him and his wife ten years ago. Working at a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving. They used to do a lot of that kind of thing, he and Helen.” She blinked as she studied the photo, then tucked it back in her purse. “But something inside him must have broken. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize that in time to save you from . . . this.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob.

Jake saw a matching tear well in Liz’s eye.

“It’s not your fault, Ms. Reynolds. People change.” Liz’s hoarse reassurance scratched its way past her throat. “It happens. Sometimes there’s nothing we can do to save them—no matter how strong our love is.”

She was thinking of Doug, Jake knew. He could see the remnants of regret pooled in her jade-colored irises. Along with sympathy for this woman’s grief, born of personal experience.

“Thank you.” Patricia fished a tissue out of her purse.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I think I lost Marty a long time ago.” She wiped her nose, took a breath, and straightened her shoulders. “My prayers will be with you for a quick recovery.”

“And mine will be with you.”

With a dip of her head, Patricia walked out the door. Spence followed, closing it behind him.

In the quiet that followed, Jake twined his fingers with Liz’s. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She gave him a sad smile. “Far from it. I’ve made way too many mistakes in my life.”

“Haven’t we all? But I stand by what I said.”

She squeezed his hand. And held tight. “I guess your job is finished here, isn’t it?”

He nodded, trying to read her eyes. “We’ll hang around until you’re released. But yeah, after that, the protection detail will end.”

Her fingers played with the edge of the sheet. “You said once that when this was over you’d like to see . . . to stay in touch.”

Jake heard the trepidation in her endearingly wistful tone. Felt it in the anxious grip of her hand. “I still feel the same way. How about you?”

Her gaze locked on his. “Yes. Very much.”

Warmth—and hope—filled his heart.

Smiling, he bent down until he was a mere whisper away, her breath soft on his cheek. “I was hoping you’d say that. Because I have plans for us.”

“Do you want to share them?” The flecks of gold in her green eyes sparkled as her own lips curved into a sweet, appealing—irresistible—smile.

“Why don’t I demonstrate instead?”

Closing the distance between them, he claimed her lips in a tender, careful kiss.

After a few moments, he started to draw back. But much to his surprise, she pulled him near again, extending the kiss. He didn’t protest.

When he broke contact at last, he stayed close, their faces inches apart. “I want you to know I don’t usually kiss the people I’m assigned to protect.”

“I’m glad you made an exception for me.” She sighed, and her smile faded as she touched his stubble-roughened cheek. “It’s been a tough few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. But they’re behind us now. Let’s focus on tomorrow. And getting to know each other better.”

“I like that idea.” She rested her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle tug. “In fact, I think you should present me with some more evidence as to what tomorrow might hold. And how we might go about getting to know each other better.”

He chuckled, loving the teasing light in her eyes. And the longing in their depths. “Are you angling for another kiss?”

“Absolutely. Any objections?”

“No objections, Your Honor.”

And claiming her lips once more, he set a precedent for their future.

Epilogue

Five Months Later

As the doorbell of her tiny rented bungalow rang for the third time, Liz huffed out a breath and gave up trying to secure the flimsy strap on her second sandal. Pulling it off her foot, she dangled it from her finger and limped over to the door, off-balance in her single two-inch heel.

It took only a quick peek through the peephole to banish her frustration and bring a smile to her lips.

Jake stood on the other side—looking heart-stoppingly handsome in tan slacks, an open-necked white dress shirt, and a subtly patterned sport jacket. Perfect attire for church and the birthday brunch for Alison that would follow.

Twisting the dead bolt, she slid back the lock, then pulled open the door. “Hi.”

His slow, intimate smile turned her knees to jelly. As did the appreciative perusal he gave her clingy floral sundress.

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

He gestured to the sandal in her hand. “Were you taking that off or putting it on?”

“On.”

“Too bad.” He winked at her.

Heat stole onto her cheeks. As she’d discovered over the past few months, Jake knew how to flirt. Big time.

And she loved it.

“Come on in. I’m having trouble with the clasp on this strap.”

She hobbled toward the couch, and he set down the small shopping bag he was carrying to reach for the sandal.

“Let me take a look.”

She handed it over, and he examined the catch. “I think it’s just a little stiff. Are these new?”

“Yes.”

He sat and motioned for her to do the same. “I like them. Let me have your foot.”

She lifted it, and he slid the shoe on, pausing to touch a polished toenail. “Pretty.”

“I thought my first sandal event of the season deserved a pedicure.”

“No arguments from me. Painted toenails are very sexy.” As he slipped the sandal on, cradling her foot in his hand a few seconds longer than necessary, he grinned at her. “Do you feel like Cinderella?”

She chuckled. “That would make you Prince Charming.”

“If the shoe fits . . .” He secured the strap.

“Cute.”

Setting her foot on the floor, he rested an arm along the back of the couch while she rose to collect her purse.

“Don’t we need to leave?” She snagged a lacy shawl off the wing chair that was too big for the tiny room. One of these days she had to get serious about looking for a bigger, more permanent place.

“In a minute.”

At his pensive tone, her heart skipped a beat and she clenched her hands around her purse. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But we got a letter addressed to you a couple of days ago.”

“ ‘We’ as in the U.S. marshals?” A shiver of anxiety rippled through her, and she sat back down beside him.

“Yes.” He frowned and linked his fingers with hers. “It’s nothing bad, Liz. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She clung to him and took some deep breaths. She was getting over the trauma from last fall. Slowly. The physical evidence was fading, and she was doing better psychologically too. There were sometimes even consecutive nights when she didn’t wake up trembling or screaming or crying. But the slightest whiff of danger was enough to bring on the shakes.

Her counselor said that would pass in time.

She hoped he was right.

“It’s okay.” She managed a shaky smile. “You just got very serious all of a sudden. What kind of letter is it?”

He withdrew the envelope from the inside pocket of his sport coat. It was larger than a business-letter size and a bit bulky.

“It’s from Patricia Reynolds. We opened it for security reasons. I wasn’t sure you needed to revisit all the bad memories, but after debating the pros and cons, I think it may actually help you move on.”

He held it out to her, and for the space of several heartbeats Liz regarded the hand-addressed envelope with the strange stamp and the Sierra Leone return address. If it was anyone but Jake suggesting she read it, she’d have refused. She didn’t need any reminders of the trauma. But over the past few months, she’d learned to trust his judgment.

Taking the envelope, she pulled out the single sheet of paper that was folded around several photographs. She set the photos in her lap, opened the letter, and read the short, handwritten note.

Dear Judge Michaels,

I have prayed for your full recovery over these past few months. I trust this finds you healing both physically and emotionally.

I wanted you to know that as my brother’s sole heir, I sold all his possessions except for a few sentimental items and used the money to construct a school building here in the village where I live and work and teach. Now my bright, eager students are protected from the elements as they learn, and they have access to resources that have opened a whole new world to them. I’ve enclosed a few photos.

While nothing can ever make up for the loss of your sister or the terror you were forced to endure, I hope you can take some comfort in knowing that out of all that adversity, the children in one tiny African village have been blessed with a brighter tomorrow.

My prayers will be with you always, Judge Michaels. May the Lord comfort and sustain you all the days of your life.

Blinking back tears, Liz sifted through the photographs. Children with ebony faces smiled back at her from a cheery, modern classroom. There was also a group photo taken in front of the new school building.

Fingers brushed against her cheek, tender, consoling, and then she was pulled into two strong arms and nestled against a broad, solid chest.

“Are you okay?”

Jake’s gentle query came out muffled against her hair, and she nodded.

“Yes. I’m glad you showed it to me. I do think it will help me move on. And push me a little farther down the path toward forgiveness.”

She stayed in the shelter of his arms as long as she could, but at last—reluctantly—she tugged away and stood. “We’re going to be late for church. I don’t want to keep your mom and Alison and Cole waiting.”

“We have plenty of time.” He refolded the letter around the pictures, slid it back into the envelope, and set the packet aside.

“I thought you said the service at Alison’s church was at 10:30?”

“I lied.”

She shot him a startled look. “You want to explain that?”

“Sure.” He patted the seat beside him. “Come sit by me again. I have something else that may help you move on.”

An odd nuance in his inflection put her on alert. It sounded like a touch of . . . nervousness? But that was completely out of character. She’d never met anyone more steady and in control than Jake.

Curious, she joined him on the couch. Once she’d settled beside him, he reached into the small shopping bag at his feet, withdrew a ten-inch square box wrapped in silver paper and topped by a fresh hibiscus, and held it out to her.

She tipped her head, puzzled. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Presents aren’t only for birthdays.”

Giving him a speculative glance, she reached for the box.

“Use both hands.” He kept a firm grip on it until she obliged.

She understood why when he released the package. It weighed a ton.

“What’s in here? A brick?”

He grinned. “Open it and see.”

Carefully removing the hot-pink tropical flower, she ripped off the silver paper to find a sturdy white box. Intrigued, she lifted the lid.

It was filled almost to the top with sand.

Pink sand.

Confused, she looked over at him. “I don’t get it.”

“How many places in the world have pink sand?”

“Only one that I know of. Bermuda.”

“The very place you mentioned to me once that you’d like to visit.”

“Okay. And that’s significant because . . . ?”

“Dig around a little. You never know what you’ll find. That’s why beachcombing is so popular.”

Burrowing her fingers into the fine sand, Liz fished around—then froze when she encountered an object that felt a lot like a ring.

Heart racing, she slowly pulled out an exquisite marquise-cut diamond set in a gold band.

She stared at it for a long moment before she could tear her gaze away. “Is this . . . Are you . . . ?”

“Yes, it is. And yes, I am.”

He plucked the ring from her fingers, set the box aside, and took her hand. No trace of levity remained on his face.

“Over the past few months, I’ve come to believe our reunion wasn’t coincidence, Liz. And that this”—he lifted the ring—“was the road we were meant to travel. Especially since I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone.” His voice hoarsened, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m not all that great with touchy-feely stuff. But the fact is, I can’t imagine my life anymore without you in it. So, Judge Michaels, I rest my case. Will you marry me?”

As Jake gazed at her, the love shining in his eyes warmed a place deep in Liz’s soul. She’d known this day was coming. Known she was falling in love, and that Jake felt the same way. So after much prayer in the quiet of countless lonely nights, she’d made her peace with her mistakes, put her guilt over Doug’s death in God’s hand, and opened herself to the future the Lord had planned for her.

The future Jake was offering her now.

A flicker of uncertainty flashed through his eyes when she didn’t respond, and she felt a tremor in his hand. The same hand that had always been steady and sure and unshakable, no matter the crisis or danger he faced.

Her heart melted.

“So what’s the verdict?”

Smiling, she held out her left hand and wiggled her ring finger. “The verdict is . . . a happy ending for both parties.”

A grin chased the tension from his features, and he slid the ring on her finger.

“You weren’t really nervous, were you?” She looped her hands around his neck, loving the feel of the gold band on her finger.

“Am I under oath?”

She chuckled. “Cute. So am I to assume a Bermuda honeymoon is included in this deal?”

“That would be a safe assumption.”

She scooted closer and touched the tip of her nose to his. “What date did you have in mind for the big occasion?”

“The sooner the better?”

At his hopeful tone, she laughed and backed off a little. “I have a very full docket, Marshal Taylor. It could take some time to clear my schedule.”

“I could give you a reason to speed things up.”

At his husky response, her heart skipped a beat. “It would have to be a very persuasive argument.”

His eyes darkened. “I’m very good at persuasive arguments.”

And as his lips claimed hers, Judge Elizabeth Michaels had to admit that Jake made a very compelling case for a wedding.

The sooner the better.