Fathers and Sons (Harlequin Super Romance) (12 page)

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Authors: Carolyn McSparren

BOOK: Fathers and Sons (Harlequin Super Romance)
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She folded the paper and slipped it into the side pocket of her purse. “You’ve been a great help.” He followed her down the hall to the central staircase. Kate wondered suddenly whether his arrival had been entirely fortuitous. “Where’s your office?’ she asked.
He pointed vaguely down the hall in the opposite direction from which Kate had come. “Down there around the corner. I don’t have an office as such. I have a desk, a file cabinet and access to the department secretary if I’m desperate.”
“And you are here because...?”
They reached the stairs. He put a hand on her arm and turned her to face him. “I wasn’t following you, if that’s what you think. I haven’t been near my office since this thing happened, and I’ve got a class tomorrow at ten. I had to check to be sure the secretary had dropped off my handout.”
She avoided his eyes—those crazy blue eyes. “Plausible.”
“Almost everyone’s office is either on the third or fourth floor of this building. We’re not spread out over a fancy campus.”
“Coincidence bothers me.” She started down the stairs and he followed. Over her shoulder she asked, “So you don’t know anyone Waneath was dating?”
“As Jason’s father, I’d be the last person she’d tell.”
“We badly need another suspect. So far there’s no evidence anyone but Jason was angry at Waneath. If we can prove that Waneath was having a hot and heavy affair with someone else, someone who might have been infuriated when Jason came home and snatched his girl out from under him—probably literally, from what I have heard about Waneath—then we may be able to shift the focus of the investigation onto someone other than Jason.”
“I wish I could be more help,” he said as she hurried down the stairs. “Wait up, you don’t have to run away from me. These stairs can be treacherous.”
“I’m the cat who walks by herself, or hadn’t you noticed?”
He said under his breath, “I’ve noticed, all right.”
“We’ve barely started,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “A good P.I. could find out more in twenty-four hours than I’m likely to discover in a month. Which is why we need to bring somebody in so that I can go back to Atlanta and prepare Jason’s defense.”
He caught up with her. “You think they’ll take him to trial?”
“Frankly, unless the sheriff has more than we know so far I don’t think it should get to trial, but I think because of the people involved it will. Unless we can give the district attorney a better scenario.”
“What about DNA testing to discover who fathered Waneath’s baby?”
“We can probably eliminate Jason, but unless we have a suspect, we can’t actually tell whose baby it was. Besides, DNA testing takes three months on average.”
“Three months? What about all these television shows where they come up with DNA evidence overnight?”
“Doesn’t happen in real life, David. I’m sorry, but it simply doesn’t. Jason will be lucky to come to trial before
next
Thanksgiving.”
“My God, he’ll go nuts. And I’ll be broke long before then.”
“Don’t worry about the money. We’ll work something out. You could be considered entitled to a discount as family.”
“I wish I were still your family.”
She caught the softness in his voice and strode off ahead of him, deciding not to respond to what he’d just said. “The system does not work the way it does on television,” she repeated. “Unless we can plea-bargain him down and plead him guilty...”
He caught up with her and put his hand under her arm. “I thought you said you didn’t think he was guilty.” She drew away from him, but didn’t break the contact. “Nobody can outguess a jury. Three years for voluntary manslaughter is infinitely better than life in prison without possibility of parole. We have to consider all the options.”
“Prison would destroy him.”
“It tends to destroy everyone.” She sat down on a long wooden bench beside the staircase, leaned back and stretched her legs in front of her. “Is he serious about making movies?”
David sat beside her, his shoulder just brushing hers. She suddenly felt as though she could lean against him and stay that way forever. The rough texture of his jacket felt wonderful against her shoulder, and the scent of male in the cloth made her nose tingle.
She hadn’t needed his sandalwood soap to identify him at the jail. She still recognized the scent of
him
. Almost a year after their divorce, she’d found an old sweatshirt of his in the back of her closet, and had buried her face in it, hoping to find the smallest trace of him in the cloth. When she couldn’t find it, she’d burst into tears—the first serious tears she’d cried since the night she found out about his infidelity.
“Jason’s very serious about movies,” he said, and stretched his arm along the back of the seat behind her, for all the world like an adolescent boy on his first movie date. She willed herself to slide away, but her body refused to move. She compensated by straightening her spine so that her shoulder didn’t touch the back of the seat.
“I bought him his first video camera when he was barely old enough to hold the thing,” David continued. “He’s seen practically every movie ever made, some of them a dozen times. He started a video club in school when he was in the seventh grade, and for years nobody in the family was safe—he videotaped everything from Neva fixing breakfast in the morning to me stepping out of the shower.”
Kate closed her eyes for a moment against the sight of David’s beautiful, young body as he stepped naked out of their hideous shower in New York. Her pulse quickened and she fought to keep her tone even. “Did he film Waneath?”
“All the time. She loved the camera.”
“Does he have any of those films?”
“I’m sure he does. You should see his closet—his room is incredibly disorganized, but that closet looks like the vault at Turner Classic Movies. He’s meticulous about cataloging everything.”
“I need to see some of those films. I want to meet Waneath.”
“I’ll stop by Long Pond and get a couple of the latest ones. How about I fix us some dinner tonight and we can watch together?”
Her mind screamed warning at her. Dangerous to have a cozy little tête-à-tête over home movies, even if they were of a murder victim taken by the prime suspect. “I’m meeting Arnold for dinner at that café downtown where I had lunch. Why don’t
we
come by about eight?”
“You think we need a chaperon?”
“Definitely.” She turned to him. “I don’t know how I feel about you after all these years. Until I do, I, for one, plan to keep our meetings strictly business. I hope you can handle that.”
“Oh, I can handle it all right,” he said with a grin. “But I warn you I intend to push the envelope as far as it will go and then some. And I will also do everything in my power to dump your duenna Arnold the first chance I get.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
“He doesn’t like me, does he?”
“The point is, he likes
me
. He turns bulldog at the first sign that anybody is causing me grief. I’d do the same thing for him.” She looked around and realized that the building, in just fifteen minutes, had the abandoned feel of an empty cavern. She shivered.
“Come on.” He stood, and reached a hand down to pull her up. “Let’s get out of here.”
She came up and into his arms in one smooth movement. He wrapped his arms around her. “See?” he whispered as she stepped back. “No envelope is going to be big enough to keep me away from you.”
CHAPTER NINE
 
K
ATE PARKED in front of her room and beside Arnold’s car in the Paradise parking lot, walked over and knocked on his door. After a moment he opened it and stepped back. She walked in, dropped her handbag on his bed and sank onto the end of it. “Hi, honey, I’m home,” she said.
He stood in the open doorway with his hands on his narrow hips. “And where have
you
been?” he asked. “Is that some hussy’s lipstick I see on your collar?”
She flopped back on his bed and closed her eyes. “Don’t start with me. I’ve been out at the junior college trying to interview Waneath’s professors. Talk about your exercise in futility.” She kicked off her shoes, heard the door close and squinted at Arnold as he dropped into the straight chair beside the desk. “And what have you been up to?”
“Doing your dirty work as usual,” he said, picking up a manila folder from the desk and dropping it squarely in the center of her midriff. “Arrest reports. Coroner’s notes.”
She groaned and sat up, clutching the folder. “And?”
“They arrested Jason Canfield because he was the last person seen with the girl and because the two of them had a public argument. And because the district attorney scented votes. So far as I can tell, that’s it. They went over his car with everything from black light up and down. No blood...”
“I thought she didn’t bleed. The blow didn’t break the skin, did it?”
Arnold shook his head. “No evidence that he bundled her into his trunk—which, you must admit, is the optimum way to carry a dead body ten miles into the country. No hair or fiber. A couple of her hairs in both the front and back seats, which is understandable if they had sex back there. No signs of a struggle where she was dumped, and no signs where Jason swears the two of them parked.”
“Footprints?”
Arnold shook his head. “No. If they were parked on the side of the road, and if Waneath got out and started walking down the road, there wouldn’t be any. They did, however, find her panty hose on the floor of his back seat.”
“Lovely. But if they had sex, understandable. Tire iron?”
“Check the inventory of his trunk,” Arnold said with a grin.
Kate flipped through the pages until she came to the inventory sheet. She ran her eye down the list of items that had been recovered, frowning. “I can’t believe anyone could stuff this much junk into the trunk of a Trans Am.”
“Turn the page. That’s the inventory from the car itself.”
Kate shook her head. “Six empty mesquite barbecue potato-chip bags, a dozen empty cola cans...no beer cans, thank God. Candy wrappers, empty French-fry envelopes. He must spend half his time driving through fast-food windows and the other half eating the stuff he buys. Six dollars and forty-three cents in change?”
“And the glove compartment.”
Again she flipped. “Whew! This boy has grandiose ideas.”
“Hey, I was eighteen myself. It’s not grandiose—it’s testosterone.”
“But one box containing twenty-three unused condoms?”
Arnold shrugged. “There was a sales slip on the floor. Dated the day after Thanksgiving. I checked. A box of that brand of condom contains twenty-four.”
“That checks with Jason’s story. They had sex only once that night, and in the back seat of the car.” She flipped back to the inventory of the trunk. “And no tire iron.”
“Ah, it gets better.” Arnold picked up a pocket of photographs, slid one out and handed it to Kate.
She glanced at it. “It’s the inside of that disgusting trunk. Oh, dear, I’m afraid there would still be room for a body.”
“Yeah, he could lay her head on his moldy gym socks.”
“What am I looking for?”
He leaned across and pointed toward the back of the trunk. “You can just see the mounts where the tire iron should have been. Anything look strange to you?”
“No. Am I stupid or what?”
“You’re female.”
“You noticed.”
“The mount things—they’ve got rust on them. The inside of them, Kate. There hasn’t been a piece of metal in those clips in quite some time.”
“Arnold, I could kiss you!” Kate said. Then her elation faded. “The prosecution will say—” she glanced at the photos again “—with some justification I’m afraid, that Jason simply tossed the tire iron into his trunk and didn’t bother with niceties like sliding it into its holder.”
“Yeah, but can they prove it?” He grinned.
“No, but we can’t disprove it, either.” She got to her feet, felt for her shoes and slipped them on. “But it’s a damn fine start. I, on the other hand, have been spinning my wheels and making a total jackass of myself. Maybe I should go back to Atlanta and do personal-injury cases.”
“Let me do the grunt work. You do the litigation. You 144 FATHERS AND SONS know I can’t speak to a jury without throwing up for two days before and a week afterward.” He sounded bitter.
“That’s why we are the perfect team.” She squeezed his shoulder. “One of these days you’ll get past the trauma, and then F. Lee Bailey will have to look to his laurels.”
“Never happen, but thanks for believing in me.”
“
De nada
. Now, I am going to stand under a hot shower—assuming you haven’t used all the hot water in this place, put on an actual skirt and then you and I are going prospecting for what passes for haute cuisine in Athena, Mississippi. And then we are going to the movies.”
 
CHRISTMAS HIT THEM the moment they drove onto the square. The old metal lampposts were festooned with wreaths and fake holly garlands, fairy lights glittered among the privet hedges that lined the walkways, and from the center bandstand came the sound of Christmas carols electronically winging from four speakers, one to each corner.
“Was this all here at lunch?” Kate asked.
“Oh, yes,” Arnold said. “Too much traffic noise to hear the music, and the lights weren’t on, but the decorations were up. You didn’t notice?”
“Not really. Actually, it’s kind of charming,” Kate said. “Looks homemade, like decorations you’ve kept since childhood.”
“You’re going soft on me.”
“I’ve always been soft on Christmas. For the past twenty years, Christmas has been hard on
me
. Not the same thing at all.”
Arnold parked the car in front of the Athena Café. Although a number of the shops lining the square were open, there seemed to be few patrons on the street, and those who were strode head down against the chill air. Kate shivered, thankful for her new down jacket.
Possibly because the citizens of Athena didn’t much cotton to dining out in the middle of the week, the café was largely deserted. Still, Kate and Arnold chose a table in a far corner where no one could overhear their conversation. Christmas carols played softly in the background, and bright green candles had materialized on the oilcloth-covered booth tables.
“You and Alec always went away for Christmas, didn’t you?” Arnold asked over the top of his menu.
“We usually stayed long enough to get the office party over with, then it was off to Cabo San Lucas or Lake Louise. He wasn’t close to his children.”
“They hate you?”
She shook her head. “Actually, they don’t seem to care one way or the other. Alec divorced their mother when they were small, and their stepfather raised them. I think the last few years, Alec regretted that he hadn’t been closer to them, but it was too late. Their lives simply didn’t encompass him, and by extension, me. At his funeral we were all very polite. I haven’t seen or heard from them since.”
“So what are you planning to do for Christmas this year?”
Kate sat back. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ll do the open house for the staff and clients, of course, but after that, I truly do not know.”
“You could go to Florida to see your mother.”
“Maybe I will.”
Their food arrived. Kate ate and kept up her end of the conversation, but her mind grappled with the realization that for the first time since law school, she had absolutely no one to spend Christmas with. Unless she descended on her mother, who would, no doubt, have plans of her own, Christmas would simply be a day like any other. She’d probably spend it working.
The florist and caterer would decorate the apartment for the open house, of course, but all that would disappear when they did. She and Alec never put up a tree because they were never there on Christmas Day to enjoy it. She didn’t own a single string of lights, a single ornament.
“I’m staying home for Christmas,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?” Arnold looked confused.
She recollected vaguely that Arnold had been discussing the terms of Sunny Borland’s settlement. No wonder he was confused.
Even if his parents celebrated Christmas, Kate knew he never went home to Long Island. Too many memories, too many ghosts. His dead wife’s parents kept trying to fix him up with one of her sisters. “I am going to put up a Christmas tree. Want to come to Christmas dinner?”
He was staring at her as though she’d taken leave of her senses. “Uh, yeah, sure, fine. Can I bring someone?”
“Of course.” Now she felt guilty. Arnold would have places to go and people to see. She reached across the table. “If you have plans, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Now, have you ever tried millionaire pie?” Arnold worked his way through his wedge of cream and pecans while Kate looked on in envy and drank her black coffee.
As they walked to the car, she told him where they were going and why.
“Home movies of Waneath? Isn’t that pretty macabre?” Arnold asked.
“More like tragic. But I want to get a look at this girl when she wasn’t walking a runway. Everybody’s been telling me all about her, but I need to see her for myself.”
“Is our client going to be there?”
“Jason? Not to the best of my knowledge.”
“So I will be the proverbial third wheel? Canfield, you and little old me watching him make goo-goo eyes at you.”
“This is business.”
“Of
course
it is.” He rolled his eyes and opened the car door for her.
 
DAVID STOOD waiting for them outside his front door. He bent over to kiss her on the cheek, but she sidestepped him smartly. Arnold raised his eyebrows in silent appreciation of the move. Kate could feel the blush spreading up her cheeks and gave thanks that the lighting in the little house was fairly dark.
David followed them into the house and walked over to the VCR. “Jason and I nearly came to blows over this tape,” David said. He picked up the remote from the top of the television.
“You only got one?” Arnold asked.
“Yeah. It’s one he made late last summer, and it should have enough of Waneath and the other members of their crowd to give you an idea of the dynamics among them. If you need more, I’ll go beard the lion in his den again.”
“Why didn’t he want you to show us his tapes?” Kate asked. “Is there something he doesn’t want us to see?”
“I don’t think that’s it,” David said. “He feels it’s some sort of violation. I’m really worried about him. He’s barely come out of his room since he got back to Long Pond. Neva says several of his friends have called. He won’t talk to them, just lets the answering machine pick up.”
“And the other calls?” Arnold asked.
David knit his eyebrows. “What other calls?”
“The threatening calls from irate townspeople. The calls from the newspaper and the media. Those calls.”
“If he’s gotten calls like that, he didn’t say.”
“Oh, he’s gotten them, all right. I’m surprised nobody’s camped on your doorstep. Or on ours, come to think of it.”
“Athena is a very small town. We have one weekly newspaper that publishes more recipes for peach preserves and birth announcements than anything else.”
“Maybe they’re waiting for the indictment to be handed down,” Kate said. “I promise you that will be news.”
David sank onto the sofa beside her. “This is a nightmare.” She nearly patted his hand, but one glance from Arnold restrained her.
“It’s only beginning,” Arnold said cheerfully. “It gets much worse.”
“Shut up,” Kate said. “Watch the movie.”
The tape had obviously been used for several events during the summer. Jason had not made any attempt at editing; he’d simply recorded events. Not much different from other home movies.
Except...
Kate sat forward as Dub and Neva fought a mock duel with barbecue forks on the patio at Long Pond, and then looked at David stretched out beside the pool with a bottle of beer in his hand. He looked completely at peace. Kate felt a pang at the difference between that man and the one who sat beside her, who was now living a nightmare.

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