Читать книгу Taken to the Edge - Kara Lennox - Страница 10

TWO DAYS LATER, ROBYN WAS getting antsy. After that first wave of urgency, Ford had become ominously silent. But when she got out of the shower that morning, the answering machine by her bed was flashing.

She pushed the button. “I have an appointment in Huntsville at two o’clock this afternoon,” came Ford’s no-nonsense voice. “I’ll pick you up at eleven. Wear something conservative.”

That was it. He didn’t identify himself, didn’t begin or end the message with pleasantries. Well, hell, it wasn’t as if they were going on a date, was it? They were visiting her ex-husband in prison. Hardly a romantic outing.

Just the same, she dressed with care. She didn’t have a lot of nice clothes. As an artist and art teacher, she tended to destroy clothes as fast as she could buy them, so jeans and T-shirts were the norm. But she did have a couple of outfits she’d worn to court. She chose her long, slim black skirt and a plain blue silk T-shirt, about as conservative as she could get.

In deference to the heat, she twisted her hair into a knot at the back of her head, holding it in place with a tortoiseshell comb. She refused to do stockings, but she wore high-heeled sandals.

She even wore makeup, something she didn’t bother with most days. Halfway through her mascara, she wondered whom she was trying to impress. But Ford had told her to be prepared for the media, and that was what she told herself—that she wanted to look good on camera.

She was absolutely, positively not primping for Ford. That would be ludicrous and kind of sick, as well. She was trying to save a man’s life.

Ford arrived promptly at eleven. Unfortunately, so did a TV van from Houston’s Channel 6. It pulled right behind Ford’s car, blocking him in.

Robyn hated reporters. She knew they weren’t all scumbags, but the ones who lurked around corners and tailed unsuspecting crime victims rated no better than hyenas in her book. At the time of Eldon’s trial, all they’d wanted from her was a sensational sound bite to crank up ratings.

Ford exited his car and faced the eager reporter and cameraman who’d leaped out of the van almost before it had stopped. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and went to join him. He’d said they needed publicity to shake information out of the bushes. But she knew from experience how damaging the wrong sort of publicity could be. If public sentiment got whipped up against Eldon, the governor was far less likely to stay the execution.

The reporters—more than one—spotted her the moment she emerged from her upstairs apartment and were on her before she reached the bottom of the steps.

“Mrs. Jasperson, do you have any new leads as to the whereabouts of your son?”

“Has a body been found?”

“Why would you try to free your son’s murderer?”

“Are you still in love with your ex-husband?”

She thought she’d been prepared, but the barrage of rapid-fire questions overloaded her brain. “I believe my ex-husband is innocent,” she said. “As I have from the beginning.”

“How do you feel about Eldon’s current wife?”

“Do you know anything about Justin’s murder?”

“Did you kidnap your son? Is that why you know Eldon is innocent?”

“Is your conscience bothering you?”

She wanted to tell them all what to do with their disgusting insinuations, but Ford had said not to antagonize the press. “I really don’t have any more to add—”

“How do you explain Justin’s blood found in Eldon’s car?”

They moved in close, sticking microphones in her face, crowding her so that she could not escape. She’d never liked crowds, and panic rose in her throat.

Just then Ford pushed through the crowd and put a protective arm around Robyn’s shoulders. “No more questions. We’ll issue a statement soon, but right now we’re on a tight schedule.” He managed to sound cordial but firm, and the reporters immediately backed off. Ford escorted Robyn to his car, whispering in her ear, “You look like a scared rabbit. Straighten up and act serene and confident.”

She tried. But all she could think about was reaching the haven of Ford’s car and getting away from the insistent voices, wanting to rip her apart like carrion.

“Mr. Hyatt, aren’t you afraid of putting another murderer back on the street?” one bold reporter asked after the others had fallen silent.

“If I were afraid I wouldn’t pursue this case,” Ford said with a tight smile.

He opened the passenger door and helped Robyn to climb in, acting the chivalrous gentleman for the press. Once the door was closed and locked, she took her first easy breath since Ford had arrived. She watched as Ford had words with a couple of men, and the van blocking their path moved out of the way as he joined her in the car.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” She took another cleansing breath. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

“You did fine.” He started the engine, threw the car in gear and backed out all in one seamless motion. She liked the way he drove, all smooth confidence.

“Fine if you like scared rabbits.” She still shook.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.” She’d had some toast for breakfast. “Is there some reason you’re so fascinated by my diet?”

“You don’t eat when you’re under stress, and that’s when you really should eat well.”

How in the hell did he know that? But it was true. When she was worried about something, she either forgot to eat, or she nibbled because food didn’t sit well in her nervous stomach.

“There’s a white bag by your feet. I bought you a vanilla milk shake. Maybe not the healthiest thing in the world, but at least you won’t pass out. Drink it.”

She didn’t like his imperious attitude. No one had ordered her around since she’d been in juvenile detention. Certainly not her mother, who had taken off with her third husband shortly after Robyn’s high school graduation, apparently happy to be free of her daughter. But he was right; she did need something more in her stomach. She gave him a curt “thanks” and retrieved the milk shake from the bag. It was smooth and creamy and cool in her throat—exactly what she needed.

“What did that reporter mean?” she asked after a minute or so.

“Which one?”

“That last one, who asked you if you were afraid of letting another murderer back on the street.”

“He was just trying to get a reaction out of me.” But Ford’s hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly.

“Have you ever made a mistake?”

“Who hasn’t?” he tossed off.

“No, I mean, have you ever believed someone was innocent, and then you were wrong? Did you ever free a guilty man?”

There was a long, pregnant pause. “You must not read the papers.”

“Not too often, no.” Robyn sensed the tension rolling off him and debated whether to press him or let it ride.

“Drew Copelson. I got his conviction overturned. Two weeks after he got out of jail, he attacked and beat an elderly woman.”

“Oh, my God. Did you—I mean, did you suspect—”

“No. I am, to this day, utterly convinced he did not commit the murder he was convicted of. He became a suspect because he had priors of violent crime, and he couldn’t come up with an alibi. Forensics proved the police planted evidence to clinch their case. He didn’t do it but I wish to God I’d left him in prison to rot. Katherine Hannigan wouldn’t be lying in a hospital room right now.”

“I didn’t realize it was so recent,” she said, wishing she hadn’t brought up what was obviously a painful subject. “I’m sorry it turned out that way. But we can’t just go around locking up people because they might commit a crime. You did the right thing.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you met Katherine. Or her family.”

She hated the desolation she heard in his voice. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be blamed for the brutal attack of a woman. And clearly some people had blamed Ford.

“That’s why I resigned from Project Justice. I was getting out of the guilt-and-innocence business. I would not be working this case if you hadn’t pressured me.” His hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “Clearly I should have gotten out a long time ago.”

“I don’t believe that’s true. I’ve read about your other cases—the man in Atlanta who was accused of murdering his wife. The woman in Illinois who went to jail for supposedly killing her elderly father. I believe in our justice system, but it’s only as good as the people involved. And when the system breaks down, someone needs to step in and fix it.”

“I used to think that. Maybe I still do. But that person won’t be me. Not after I finish this case.” An SUV whipped in front of their car, cutting them off. Ford rammed his hand into the horn. “Damn, look at this traffic. Hey, have you talked to Trina?”

Robyn recognized a desperate ploy to change the subject. She let him. “I’m giving her a chance to cool down, but I’ll check on her later. She’s probably feeling betrayed by everyone right now, but once she thinks about it she’ll see we’re right.”

“How did you two end up being friends, anyway?”

Robyn sucked up the last sip of her milk shake, amazed she’d finished it. “I wouldn’t exactly say we’re friends. She did steal my husband, after all.”

“In my experience, husbands don’t get stolen unless they want to be stolen.”

“Yeah, I know.” She blotted her mouth with a paper napkin she’d found in the milk shake sack. “I was being flip. She’s not someone I would choose as a friend. But when Eldon went to trial, his lawyer thought it would play well with the jury if both Mrs. Jaspersons presented a united front.

“Sitting next to Trina in the courtroom day after day, I got to know her. I’d always thought of her as the conniving ‘other woman,’ but I realized she truly did love Eldon. She’s not a bad person. People condemn her because she was poor and married money, but they said the same thing about me.”

“At least Eldon wasn’t married when you met him. You were already making a better life, working your way through college, when you met Eldon. You weren’t on the prowl for a rich husband.”

How did Ford know so much about her and Trina?

“I didn’t say I admired Trina. But I understand why she wanted Eldon. And I understand why he wanted her. Eldon has a pattern of taking on projects—young, unsophisticated, impoverished girls he could mold and improve. Once I was improved, at least enough that his mother quit badgering him to divorce me, he lost interest.”

“Do you still love him?”

The question hung between them longer than it should have. Her answer should have been immediate—no. But she wanted to answer Ford just right.

“I’ll always be grateful for the things Eldon did for me. He paid for my last two years of college. He encouraged me to get my teaching certificate. And he gave me Justin. Those two and a half years I spent as a mother were the best of my life.

“But I no longer love my ex-husband in a romantic way. He hurt me too deeply for that.”

On that note, Ford ended his questions. He’d been nosy, and he’d gotten more than he bargained for—a glimpse of the raw pain Robyn had until now kept carefully hidden.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing in pursuing Eldon Jasperson’s freedom. He wouldn’t take this case to the governor unless he was damn sure—a hundred percent sure—Jasperson was innocent. That was a pretty high standard. There was no way he would be responsible for putting another murderer—a child killer—out on the street.

If he bailed on the case, which was a definite possibility, he would dash Robyn’s hopes and prove to her once again that she couldn’t count on anyone. Getting involved in this was a mistake, but it was too late now to back out.

They arrived at Huntsville State Prison in plenty of time for the appointment Ford had arranged. Of course, they had to go through the usual security rigmarole. They were searched and scanned more thoroughly than a suspected terrorist at an airport, and then they were given a list of rules, verbally and in writing, detailing everything they couldn’t do during the visit.

This was old hat to Ford. He’d visited more than one death row inmate since starting with Project Justice. But Robyn had probably not gone through this before. An inmate on death row was seldom allowed visitors, usually only with a compelling reason. Robyn was clearly nervous—she’d already chewed off her carefully applied lipstick and hadn’t bothered to put on more.

When the guards were positive Ford and Robyn weren’t packing a stun gun or bolt cutters, they were walked down one depressing corridor after another until they reached Cell Block H. There was no sign declaring it to be death row, but everyone knew what Cell Block H was.

They were shown to a room with a large table and four chairs bolted to the floor.

“Jasperson will be brought in shortly,” one of the guards said.

When they were alone again, Robyn jumped out of her chair and paced. “I thought we would visit him through one of those windows with telephones—you know, kind of like in the movies.”

“Are you nervous about seeing him face-to-face?”

She flashed a guilty, nervous smile. “Terrified. I haven’t seen him in years. Trina says he isn’t holding up well.”

“Sit down,” Ford said. “You heard the rules. We have to stay in our chairs.”

“Sorry.” She slid back into her seat, then clenched her hands in front of her on the scarred metal table.

A few moments later, a guard escorted Eldon Jasperson into the room wearing shackles on both hands and feet, and Ford got his first good look at the man since the trial, when he was more familiar to Houstonians than the hottest Hollywood celebrity. Though Ford knew prison was hard on the inmates, he wasn’t prepared to see a gaunt man with thinning gray hair and sallow skin. In the eight years of incarceration, he’d aged twenty.

The guard seated his prisoner in a chair across the table from them and chained him to it. Jasperson’s gaze was on Robyn—and it was hungry. A surge of protectiveness welled up in Ford, so strong it stole the air out of his lungs.

“Robyn.” Jasperson’s voice was low, cultured. “This is a surprise.”

“Hi, Eldon.” She sounded soft, comforting, full of emotion. “I’ve brought someone to see you—someone who might be able to help.”

Eldon spared a quick, dismissive glance for Ford. “Another lawyer?”

“I’m an investigator with Project Justice. Ford Hyatt.” Ford nodded, since they weren’t allowed to shake hands. “Are you familiar with Project Justice?”

Eldon’s interest ratcheted up a notch. “You’re the folks who get innocent people out of jail.”

“Sometimes.” Ford spent a couple of minutes telling him the basics of how the foundation worked and his role there. “Robyn brought your case to my attention. I’d heard of it, of course. But I hadn’t realized how many unanswered questions remained. The information she provided was compelling enough for me to want to look into it.”

“A little late, isn’t it?”

“We’re often the avenue of last resort. Mr. Jasperson, I’ll get right to the point. I’ve read the police report, and I have strong reason to believe you were not alone the night Justin disappeared.”

Fear and surprise flashed briefly in Eldon’s sullen gray eyes, but he quickly hid his reaction. Not quickly enough, however. Ford knew he was on to something.

“Why would you think something like that? If anyone could back up my story, don’t you think I’d have said something?”

“Why did you order a large, half-and-half pizza?” Ford asked.

He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Because I was hungry? Who the hell told you what kind of pizza I ordered? Why would anyone care about such a stupid detail?”

“It was in the police report,” Ford replied. “Police often ask for small details when they’re questioning victims or witnesses—or potential suspects. The details will trip people up.”

“Or help them out,” Robyn said. “Eldon, you ordered a large pizza, half black olives. You hate black olives.”

“That’s just not true.” But he swallowed several times. The questions were making him nervous.

Ford continued to push. “Mr. Jasperson, I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t tell us who you were with. Whatever your reasons for keeping that secret—surely they don’t matter anymore. You have nothing to lose.”

“I’d like to help, believe me,” Jasperson said politely. “But I was alone.”

Robyn banged one fist on the metal table. “You were cheating on Trina while she was away at a conference,” she said, suddenly harsh. “Why can’t you admit that?”

“Where would you get such a foolish idea?” Jasperson sounded less polite now.

“Because you cheated on me. And I know what it looks like. I watched the video of your interrogation, and I know the look that was on your face. I’ve seen it before—when you’d been with Trina and you were trying to hide it from me.”

He sat up straighter, defiant. “Maybe I looked guilty on that video because I killed our son.”

Ford expected Robyn to flinch at the words, but she came right back at him. “I know damn well you would never have hurt Justin. Tell me who she is.”

Robyn and her ex-husband stared at each other, challenging, until Ford was sure blue sparks would fly between them. But finally Eldon looked away, defeated. “I can’t find her,” he said softly. “I saw no reason to involve her at the beginning. I had no clue things would turn out as they did, not an inkling that I’d be arrested for Justin’s murder. So I said I was alone. Later, when I knew I was in trouble, I couldn’t find her. She’d left town. So I said nothing. Changing my story—with no one to corroborate it—would only make me look like a liar. And a cheating husband on top of that.”

Ford resisted the urge to grin. He really hadn’t been sure Robyn’s hunch would pan out.

“So what’s her name?” Ford asked, pad and pencil ready.

Eldon shook his head. “You won’t find her. She hid her tracks well. Anyway, she wasn’t there when Justin was taken. She was back at my house.”

“But she can verify that Justin was alive at the time you left to get pizza.” Ford was amazed that Jasperson didn’t grasp this. “The prosecution has always maintained the pizza run was a cover story used to stage a phony kidnapping, and that you’d probably killed Justin hours earlier and spent a good amount of time disposing of the body.”

Now both Robyn and Eldon did flinch.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no time to worry about delicate sensibilities. Eldon, this woman could clear you.”

“I doubt she’ll talk, even if you do find her.”

“Let me worry about that. What’s her name?”

“You can’t do this!” Eldon roared. “Trina…Trina has been so loyal through all this. I can’t face death knowing I’ve turned her against me.”

“Eldon,” Robyn said. “It’s too late for that. She already knows.”

“She’s okay with it,” Ford added, lying through his teeth. “She understands. She won’t hold it against you, not at this late date. It was a long time ago.”

Eldon shook his head stubbornly.

“You’d rather die than take this chance?” Ford asked.

He didn’t respond.

“We’ll find her without your cooperation,” Ford said with steely determination. “And when we do, I won’t be gentle with her. I’ll feed her name to every sleazy reporter in the country. Her life will be a living hell.”

ROBYN WANTED TO OBJECT to Ford’s harsh threat. Hadn’t Eldon been savaged enough? But what did Ford care? He didn’t know Eldon, had never seen him playing horsey with Justin or entertaining the baby with faces while changing his diaper. Ford’s job wasn’t to make friends. He was pursuing this case the way he did everything—moving resolutely forward, eye on the goal, never wavering.

It was the reason she’d agreed with Trina that he was the right man for the case.

When Ford had shielded her from the media vultures, she had thought she’d seen a speck of caring there. But she must have been mistaken. The man was a machine.

“Eldon,” Robyn said gently, grasping his attention. “No matter what happens, you won’t die alone. I will be here for you. I still care for you.”

“How could you?” he asked. “After what you’ve been through…”

“You lost a son, too. Maybe you aren’t the most faithful of husbands, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t love your son—or that you should die for someone else’s crime. For the love we had for Justin—for the love we once shared. Help us help you.” A single tear escaped, and she dashed it away. “Tell us the woman’s name. We’ll handle it sensitively.”

Eldon closed his eyes, battling some internal demon. Finally he looked at Robyn, shutting out Ford. “Heather.” He barely whispered the word. “It was Heather.”

“Heather Boone?” Robyn asked, her voice coming out a hoarse accusation. Oh, God. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to say anything.

“Do you understand now?”

Robyn was afraid she did. “How old was she at the time?” She chanced a look at Ford, gauging his reaction. He leaned back in his chair, his face a granite wall. But she noted a faint flicker of displeasure in his eyes. He wasn’t happy with the conversation’s direction.

“She was above the age of consent,” Eldon said.

Ford suddenly sat forward. “Look, would somebody mind telling me who Heather Boone is?”

“She was one of my art students. Someone I took a special interest in. Apparently Eldon did, too,” she added bitterly. “Damn it, Eldon, she was a troubled child. How could you take advantage—”

“I was helping her.”

“By sleeping with her?”

“Time-out!” Ford silenced them with his outburst. Robyn looked at him, startled at his show of temper. But there was a time to be sensitive, and a time to play hardball. Ford instinctively knew which strategy to use. “If you want me to move forward with this case, y’all are both gonna have to shut up and listen to me. Eldon, you’re dealing with me now, not your ex-wife. Tell me from start to finish what happened that night. And if I sense any bullshit, I’m walking out of here and never coming back.”