Ties That Bind (11 page)

Still he said nothing. Didn’t even move.

“Do you remember our tenth wedding anniversary?”

Of course he did…the warmth of the sand, the salty scent of the gulf, the hot, sultry night air…“How could I ever forget Siesta Key?”

“Things were good then, Reese. Better than ever. At that time, you would never have cheated with another woman, let alone a criminal like Anna Bingham. Even if I hadn’t remembered that second honeymoon, I should have known, given the fact that she broke the law you love, that you wouldn’t hook up with her.”

Reese had to swallow hard. His emotions were running high because of the case and because of Kate’s previous suspicions. “Thank you for that.” He averted his gaze from hers. “I was having a hard time with your doubts.”

She squeezed his arm. “I would have felt that way, too, if I thought you were going to hang me out to dry.”

“So,” he said, embarrassed by how good it felt to have her faith in him. “Want to come in and talk about what we’re going to do now?”

She checked her watch. “I don’t have to be in court until ten.” She glanced at the house. “Won’t Little Miss Muffet mind?”

“Be nice,” he said, easing a hand to her back and nudging her toward the door. “And I’ll refrain from badmouthing Peter Pan.”

It was a silly conversation, but it lightened his heart.

Once inside, he poured her some coffee and flavored it himself with hazelnut creamer. She looked around at the sunny, oak paneled interior. “This is lovely,” she said nodding to the room. “It reminds me of our kitchen on Old Town Line Road.”

He hoped like hell that wasn’t unconsciously why he bought this house. “I like it.”

Grabbing his own coffee and a legal pad and pen, he sat next to her. “First off, we have to hold a press conference, preferably today, to publicly deny Bingham’s allegation and present a united front.”

“Agreed.”

“Then we have to investigate two threads. The first is that Bingham did commit suicide and lied about our role in it for some reason.”

“Right, then we’d have to determine why.”

Heads bent, they began making a list of their moves: hire a private investigator to look into Anna Bingham’s life in and out of prison; study her phone calls, disciplinary action, etc., through prison records, which they’d already filed for; talk to her lawyers for the subsequent crimes; get a look at her personal effects.

It took an hour to finish the list. When Reese pushed away the pad, he sighed. “Then there’s thread number two—that she was murdered and the note is false. Someone else planted it and made her death look like a suicide. And” —he shook his head— “blamed us for it.”

“I’ve been thinking about that since we brought it up on the drive to see Sofie. It still means somebody is lying about us? Why?”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, too. I can only come up with one reason. That the person who did it has an ax to grind with us.”

“Are you saying she was killed to get to us?” Kate asked.

“I’m saying it’s a possibility.”

“Oh, my God, Reese. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. It’s so vicious. And dramatic.”

Reaching out, he took her hand. “I had the same reaction. But, I’m damned if I can think of another reason the note would implicate us. She falsely accused me. Either she killed herself to get back at us—for no reason, which is far-fetched—or someone used her to get to us. We’d need to determine why.”

The thought was stark. Kate shifted subtly, leaned in and pressed her head onto his shoulder, as if she needed the contact. He did, too, so he moved closer, laid his cheek on her hair and a hand on her back.

He was about to say something when he heard behind him, “What’s going on here, Reese?”

Dray’s voice. Rightfully suspicious and annoyed, given the tableau he knew he and Kate made.

o0o

AT HER GYM, Dray closed herself in her office and picked up the phone. She dialed her adopted sister’s cell, a special one that accepted overseas calls. Phoebe Merrill was in France searching, Dray knew, for something she’d never find. She hated to bother her there, but Lacey, her other sister, was busy planning her wedding, and Dray didn’t want to dump something this depressing on her.

“Phoebe Merrill.” Hearing her sister’s voice was calming.

“Hey, Phoeb, it’s Dray.”

Though Phoebe had special problems, or maybe because of them, she always sensed when someone—especially one of her sisters—was hurting. “What’s wrong, honey?”

Dray battled back tears. “I just needed to talk to you. Where are you?”

“At the Institute.”

Every few years, Phoebe went back on the road. She was a physical therapist, who’d gotten into what Tyler had been doing in his Well Child Project—music and dance therapy. Right now, she was at the Institute for Autism in Paris, studying selective mutism in children. She and Dray had gone to college together after Dray and Lacey had literally found Phoebe on the side of the road when she was sixteen, and Dray was seventeen. Beaten and battered, Phoebe had sustained an injury to her brain that led to amnesia. Though it sounded melodramatic, there was scientific evidence that she would probably never regain her memory of life before they found her.

“Good classes?”

“Yeah, you should come over to France.”

“Not now.”

“Because of Reese?”

“Oh, Phoeb, things are bad.” She explained the situation.

“Dray, you deserve better than he’s ever given you, which is only half of himself. Now he’s withdrawing even more. It sucks.”

“I love him.”

A silence. At thirty-one, Phoebe had never let herself love anyone. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not easy. But I worry about you. I need to see you.”

“You’ll be home in a few weeks for Lacey’s wedding.”

“Still, I wish I could come there right now and take care of you.”

“That means a lot.”

“Honey, did talking to me make it worse? If it has, I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.”

Dray drilled a pencil on the tabletop. “Nothing you do could make it worse. I’ll feel better when I see you again.”

“I hope so. Meanwhile, remember, you deserve better than this.”

“Yeah, I do. But I’m not giving up on Reese yet.”

Dray hung up. She’d lied to her sister. She did feel worse. Because Phoebe was right. Dray shouldn’t put up with Reese’s distancing. She could still see him hugging Kate in the kitchen this morning. And she knew in her heart, Reese wasn’t distancing his ex-wife physically or emotionally. Instead, they were growing closer.

Damn it. Damn him. Dray really didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the clock. Right now he and Kate were in a press conference with the reporter who’d been after a statement from them. Hell of a thing, she’d probably find out more about what Reese was thinking by reading the newspaper tomorrow morning than what he himself would tell her.

o0o

EDDIE WICK FIT the old-time newsman stereotype to a tee: rumpled clothing hung on a lanky frame, sandy brown hair casually mussed, and cigarettes stuck proudly out of his shirt pocket, just waiting to be lit. His Columbo-like appearance immediately put Kate on edge.

“Thanks for seeing me, Bishop.” He nodded to Kate. “Judge Renado.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Wick.” Reese’s tone was polite, but authoritative. Dressed in an impeccable gray suit, surrounded by the elegance of the conference room at his offices, he looked confident and in control.

Kate had put on a navy suit, and kept her own body language neutral. “May I ask you why you’ve taken such an aggressive interest in this story?”

A slash of eyebrows shot up. “John Q. Public has a right to know if a local attorney abused a client, before he hires on with the firm. And if a judge here in River City did something this unethical, should she continue to adjudicate?”

Kate stiffened. Reese frowned.

“Besides, you’re news. Westwood’s Herald has covered you since you settled here after law school. We got bulging files on you, your cases, some social things. One article called you the ‘Cinderella Couple’.”

Their attorneys, seated at the table, glanced at each other. Then Carl said, “I hope you aren’t out to destroy the fairy tale, Mr. Wick.”

“Fairy tale took a nosedive when divorce came into the picture.” He checked his notes. He even had one of those flipping pads, though he was taping the interview. As was Reese. They wanted a record of exactly what they’d said in case they were misquoted. “When was that?” Wick asked.

“Five years ago.”

The reporter arched a brow. “Comin’ up on your twentieth anniversary.”

Damn it. Kate hadn’t thought about their wedding anniversary. Not that she ever did. She ruthlessly blocked it from her radar screen every single year. Christ, this was just what they needed now.

“Filed for irreconcilable differences?”

“Yes.” Reese’s voice was still even. Kate wondered if he was as affected by what Wick had pointed out as she was.

“No piece on the side causing the split, Bishop?”

Kate assumed the reporter had heard the rumors about Reese and Lindsay Farnum somewhere.

“That is a totally inappropriate comment, Wick,” Marcia told the guy. “If you’re going to take this tack, then the interview is over.”

“Sorry if that offends anybody’s sensibilities, but Bishop here is accused of infidelity in Bingham’s suicide note. If he got some on the side before, it would be more proof of your guilt.”

“As far as I know, Eddie,” Reese said, “there is no proof of our guilt at all.”

“Right.” He turned to Kate. “So you didn’t divorce him because he cheated?”

At least that could be answered truthfully. “No, I divorced him because we wanted different things at that point.”

Again, the reporter studied his notes. “Hmm. You two applied for a judgeship at the same time and you didn’t get it, right Bishop?”

“That’s correct.”

“That drive you apart?”

Kate saw Reese swallow hard. He took a bead on Wick. “Can we get off the divorce? It happens to more than fifty percent of the population.”

Wick shrugged. “Do you agree with the police’s findings that Anna Bingham committed suicide?”

“We think,” Carl put in, “that’s one possibility. We know the note falsely accuses Kate and Reese. We’re going to find out why.”

“One possibility? You thinkin’ somebody took her out in prison and faked the note?”

Kate wondered what it said about herself that she hoped that was true. “We have to explore every possibility.”

“Somebody who wanted to discredit you two, maybe?”

Marcia said, “Lawyers make a lot of enemies, Wick.”

He smirked, then his brow narrowed. “Can you think of any cases where a client was mad enough at you to nail you this way? It’s a big leap, but having suspects might lend credibility to the story.”

“We know it’s a big leap,” Reese answered honestly. “But something isn’t right in Denmark, since her accusations are false. We intend to prove that.”

Wick went on to ask them about the prison, the possibility of assaults and murders occurring, and some speculation on white-collar crime. Then he went back to their bio. “I see you both come from modest backgrounds. Went to Cornell and U of R respectively, and Yale, all on scholarships. Your rise in the legal world was equally impressive.”

They explained how they’d clerked for very prestigious judges, given Kate was valedictorian of their class and Reese was salutatorian; how they’d landed great jobs in a fast track law firm, made partners there at a young age and finally went out on their own.

“Harrumph. That really is storybook material.”

“Yes, well, we had a nice life. “ Kate’s voice carried harsh overtones she hadn’t meant to be there. It was just that hearing how good she and Reese had had it, and lost it, upset her.

“Got a kid, right?”

“Yes.”

“She goes to Connor Prep?” His expression asked why.

“She’s very bright.” Reese smiled at Kate. “Takes after her mom.”

“And talented. Like her dad.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet,” He shook his head. “All this solidarity, this niceness, makes me wonder how you ever got divorced.”

Kate sighed. She glanced at Reese. His expression mirrored what she was feeling. How had they let the Cinderella story end so badly?

o0o

“WHERE HAVE YOU been?” Kate had asked, right at the very end of their relationship, when Reese rolled in just as the grandfather clock chimed 2:00 a.m. She’d been waiting up for him and confronted him in the den.

“What does it matter?”

“If you’ve given up on this relationship, I have a right to know.”

Crossing to the sidebar, he poured himself a scotch that he didn’t want. He’d already had too many. Pivoting he sipped it and studied her. She wore ice-blue satiny pajamas and her hair was loose around her shoulders. Even with what was between them, she stirred him. “I’ve given up on us. Finally.”

Her face drained of color. “When did you decide this?”

“How about when we started sleeping in different rooms? When we stopped eating together, talking about our jobs, fighting so badly that Sofie wants to stay at her best friend’s house all the time?” Which is where their child had gone that night.

“That’s been going on for months. What brought your decision on now?”

“I’m sick of pretending. I want it done.”

“Were you with Lindsay Farnum tonight?” Her voice trembled.

“Yes.”

“Well. That says it all, doesn’t it? You can have your divorce. I won’t be made a fool of.”

“Of course not, the soon-to-be Honorable Judge Kaitlyn Renado wouldn’t allow that.”

He’d seen something he hadn’t expected then. A weakening. A vulnerability. “Reese, if it’s mostly my appointment to the bench, we can deal with that. We’ve competed for years, beat each other out, silently lauded the other when they won. You’ll get your judgeship.”

Stalking over to her, he’d gripped her arm. “Maybe if you hadn’t had an abortion I would have been able to weather it. This divorce is your fault.”

“No, it’s yours, too. All the accusations, the bickering, the whoring around that you did brought us to this point.”

“I wouldn’t have whored around if you hadn’t walked into a clinic and had our child’s life sucked out of you.”