"She was wearing a skirt, then?"
"Yes."
"Blouse?"
"Yes."
"Brassiere?"
"Yes."
"None of these were removed?"
"Unfastened, but we didn't take them off."
"What about you?"
"I just unzipped my pants."
"Did you remove your shirt?"
"No."
"Unbutton it?"
"Yes."
"When you were caught, did people see you with your shirt unbuttoned?"
"I suppose so. Is that relevant?"
"It's doubtful that a rapist would take the time to unbutton his shirt. That's something a lover would do."
He relaxed; he even gave her a fleeting smile.
"Had you completed the act by the time Mr. Johnson arrived?"
"Yes."
"You had ejaculated?"
He lowered his eyes. "Into the, uh, condom."
"So the physical evidence sent to the lab is incontrovertible?"
"Yes." He raised his head. "I don't deny that Kim and I had sex, Mrs. Burnwood. But it was not rape, as Mr. Johnson claims. The librarian called and told him that I'd followed Kim from the building. She was concerned for Kim's safety.
If you have slanted eyes, you're considered suspicious, I guess," , . . . , , , he said scornfully.
"Anyway, since Kim wasn't home yet, Mr. Johnson panicked. He came looking for her and was already foaming at the mouth before he even found us. He pulled me from the car and started choking me. I thought he was going to kill me."
"What about Kim? What was she doing?"
"Sobbing hysterically. When the police arrived, an officer hauled her out of the backseat. She was still partially undressed."
He covered his face with his hands. "She must have been mortified. Everybody inside the library had come out to see what the commotion was about. All those people were gaping at her. There was nothing I could do to spare her that embarrassment."
Kendall set aside her pen and folded her arms on the table.
"When Kim is questioned, what do you think she'll tell the police?"
"That I never raped her!" he exclaimed. "I never even coerced her.
She'll tell them that, if she hasn't already. She won't let me be indicted for rape. Once the police talk to her and get the facts straight, I'll be released.
Kendall didn't share his faith in Kimberly Johnson's loyalty.
Herman Johnson's violent response to finding his daughter in flagrante delicto with Michael Li might have frightened the girl so badly that she would lie to the police, the D.A., and a jury in order to escape her father's wrath.
Kendall had known witnesses with much less at stake who perjured themselves for their own protection. Kim might fear ostracism from her family if she admitted compliance, particularly if their objections to Michael Li were racially motivated.
Even if Kim admitted to her parents that she was attracted to Michael, they might force her to lie. They might not want it to become public knowledge that their daughter was having an affair with a young man of Asian descent, not even if he was valedictorian of their class and destined for greatness.
Kendall chided herself for unfairly bigotry on the Johnsons, whom she hardly knew. But she feared the worst.
In all likelihood, they would go to any lengths to prove that Michael Li had raped their daughter. Kim, to protect herself from scandal and reprisal, would probably go along.
Kendall didn't want her pessimism revealed to her client, however. It was crucial to put a positive spin on things. "I'm sure your classmates will testify that you and Kim are a steady couple. Your teachers will make good character witnesses.
Over all, we've got a lot working in our favor."
She placed her notes in her briefcase and stood. "I hope Mr. Johnson rescinds his charge. If he doesn't, I'll try to get your arraignment set for tomorrow."
The youth insisted it wouldn't get that far. "Kim loves me as much as I love her. She'll tell them the truth. Then her father will have no choice but to withdraw the charge."
Kendall wished she could share his confidence.
She never left the courthouse without thinking of Bama. The homeless man apparently had skipped town on a freight train.
At least that's what she and Roscoe had theorized.
"He's a born rambler, I guess," the custodian had replied when Kendall asked him if he, too, had noticed that Bama was missing from his usual spot on the courthouse steps. "He showed up one morning, out of nowhere. I suppose that's where he's headed to now. Nowhere. Gonna be missed round here," he added sadly.
More than a week had passed since Bama's disappearance.
As she left the courthouse shortly after her meeting with Michael Li, she was poignantly reminded of the brief exchanges they had shared. She missed them. He had been the first to greet her when she arrived and the last to say goodbye when she left. He had become like a friend.
This afternoon, she felt friendless.
Her office was still not entirely set to rights after the Crooks' vandalism. She continued to believe they were responsible, although she had no proof and, as she had predicted, the police had made no effort to investigate.
The cluttered office had given her a bad case of claustrophobia. The session with Michael Li had depressed her. Feeling the four walls closing in, she had decided to take the discovery file on the Lynam case out to Mrs. Lynam's house. The fresh air would do her good, she decided, and the round-trip drive would give her uninterrupted time in which to think.
She felt dejected, and the reason was personal, not professional. More than twenty-four hours had passed since she learned that she was carrying Matt's child, but she still hadn't told him.
Last night he had robbed her of the opportunity by expressing viewpoints that she would never have attributed to him.
She had been shocked to hear her husband professing such outmoded beliefs about marriage and the roles each partner should play.
If he had spoken in jest, or even in anger, she could have dismissed his unheralded sexist remarks. But because he had stated them with such calm conviction, she had been dwelling on them all day.
He was parroting Gibb, of course. Matt didn't really want a mousy, submissive wife. Otherwise he never would have married her. But it disturbed her that Gibb held such sway over Matt's thinking. Just as it had distressed her to find that Gibb's influence in this town extended into areas totally unrelated to him.
In order for her to recapture the euphoria she had experienced upon learning that she was pregnant, she and Matt would first have to reach a new understanding about their partnership and Gibb's meddling.
She was mildly resentful of the time, energy, and emotion such a discussion would require of her, especially at a time when all her resources needed to be channeled into defending Lottie Lynam.
Kendall and Solicitor Gorn had engaged in a bitter dispute over her bail, but Judge Fargo, to Kendall's surprise, had ruled in their favor. Mrs. Lynam had been able to raise the money by mortgaging her family's property, which had come to her by default. None of her brothers or sisters had wanted it.
The defense platform was shaky. She hoped Mrs. Lynam would spot something useful in the discovery documents she was taking to her. Perhaps she would see something in the state's evidence file that would create reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury and support an argument for self-defense.
Kendall was under no delusions. This trial was going to be tough and would require all her skills. Thinking about it caused a burning sensation between her shoulder blades. Her neck muscles were in knots.
It wouldn't be good for her client to see her anxious and uptight. On impulse, she pulled the car to a stop at the side of the narrow road. The house was only a short walk from this point. The exercise would be good for her and for the baby.
She left her car and struck out on foot. The boughs of the trees were lined with the bright new green that announces the approach of spring. This promise of renewal, in addition to the embryo that her body was nurturing, rejuvenated Kendall's sense of purpose. She was determined to succeed, both professionally and personally. She had taken an enormous gamble when she came to Prosper. She couldn't fail.
Resolve quickened her footsteps. But they were instantly arrested when she rounded the bend and saw the car parked next to Mrs. Lynam's in front of the small, ramshackle house.
What would Matt be doing here?
Had he called her office, been told that she was on her way to Mrs. Lynam's house, and decided to meet her here to conduct the interview they had talked about last night?
No, that couldn't be it. He hadn't yet given her the list of questions as he had promised. Surely he wasn't going behind her back and interviewing Mrs. Lynam before she had an opportunity to coach her.
But if she didn't sense that his being here in the middle of the day wasn't somehow illicit, why wasn't she making her way to the door instead of ducking out of sight behind a hedge?
Her mind hadn't yet fully formulated that question when Lottie and Matt appeared. Together they came through the front door and out onto the porch. His suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, hooked by his index finger. His other arm was curled around Lottie's waist.
She was wearing only a full white slip, the old-fashioned kind with lace cups and a snug skirt that didn't quite reach her knees. One of the shoulder straps had slipped down, exposing the pale slope of her breast. Her head was resting on his chest, her body molded to his. It was impossible to tell who was supporting whom because one appeared as needful and miserable as the other.
They got only as far as the first step when Lottie stopped and turned to him. She moved against him suggestively. He let go of his jacket and it fell unheeded to the unpainted porch floor.
Her arms locked around his neck.
His hands possessively clutched her buttocks and drew her up to him.
She propped her thigh high on his hip.
He ground his pelvis against hers.
Her head fell back onto her shoulders.
He moaned her name.
Their lips sought, met, and clung with unbridled passion.
Chapter 15
"What the hell happened to your hair?"
Stepping from the bathroom into the hallway, Kendall self consciously touched the back of her neck, now exposed after she had hacked off her hair. "It was hot, always sticking to the back of my neck. I couldn't live with it another day." She looked pointedly at the circular, semibald spot near his temple and said snidely, "Besides, you've got no room to talk about hair."
He was right; hers looked atrocious. Taking scissors to it had been a drastic but necessary move after she'd seen her face on the front page of that Nashville newspaper. The photograph was probably being shown on television, too. She hoped that the haircut would serve as a disguise.
"The baby's been crying," he said.
She stepped around him and entered the small bedroom where Kevin slept. "What's the matter, Kevin? Hmm?"
"Will he recognize you, looking like that?"
"He recognizes my voice." She lifted the infant from the playpen and carried him to the bureau that she had converted into a changing table. "Are you wet? Is that the problem?"
She heard the thump-thump of his crutches as he moved up behind her. Still smarting over his crack about her cropped hair, she ignored him and concentrated on diapering the baby.
"He was circumcised," he remarked.
"Uh-huh."
"Religious reasons?"
"Not particularly. That's just what we agreed on."
"Why?"
"I don't know," she replied impatiently.
"Did I want him to be like me, or unlike me?"
"What do you mean
"Am I or aren't I?"
She made a scoffing sound. "Don't you know?"
"Yes, I know." He placed his finger beneath her chin and brought her head around. "Do you?"
If she had been shot with a stun gun, she couldn't have been more dumbfounded. Finally, she gave a shaky little laugh. "What a ridiculous question." She tried to return to her task, but he encircled her wrist and held on until she relented and looked up at him again.
"Which is it, Kendall?"
"I resent being tested like this."
"I resent being lied to. You claim to be my wife. If there's one thing a wife knows with certainty, it's whether or not her husband was circumcised."
He spoke with such quiet intensity that the words were barely audible. His eyes probed hers while his thumb traced lazy patterns in her palm.
"Well? Did we always make love with the lights out?"
I, | "Of course not."
"And we showered together?"
She tried to turn away, but he gave her wrist a tug. She shot him a fierce look. "Sometimes."
"So surely you washed me. Caressed me." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. His lips moved against it as he spoke. "I'll bet you knew how to touch me in ways that made my blood pressure rise."
Kendall felt her stomach levitate, then drop weightlessly She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Her ears echoed with the drumming of her heartbeat. "You never complained," she said faintly.
"Then this shouldn't be a difficult question."
"It's not."
"So answer."
"It's silly."
"Indulge me."
She knew her voice would be as arid and wispy as chaff, but he was waiting for an answer. It had to be the correct one.
