Читать книгу Without You - Mary Baxter Lynn - Страница 9

But I don’t trust you.

Though Hallie wanted to utter those words, she couldn’t; they dried up in her throat. Still, she was angry that Jackson had so brazenly appeared in her office, opening old wounds with both his unsettling presence and his raw demand.

“Hallie?”

The unspoken plea in his voice refocused her mind. Yet she stopped short of giving him a definitive answer, even though she knew this situation was grave and could spell disaster for him.

“I need time, Jackson,” she stalled, which was not like her at all, and he knew it. She had always been admired for her ability to think quickly on her feet, in an unpleasant situation or otherwise.

Right now, however, she was having a difficult time even thinking, much less thinking rationally. Apparently Jackson wasn’t having any qualms, or he wouldn’t have approached her. Or else he was desperate. With that thought jumping to the forefront of her mind, Hallie lifted her slender shoulders as if preparing for battle.

“I need your answer now,” Jackson said before she could break the heavy silence.

Chocolate-brown eyes met blue ones, and for a moment, Hallie couldn’t find her next breath. Jackson must have experienced the same smothering reaction, for his features darkened even more and he shifted his gaze.

“Why are you a suspect, Jackson?”

He rubbed his chin, which was beginning to show a slight stubble, further enhancing his sex appeal. “I was with Roberta last night.” His voice was brusque.

Hallie didn’t know why that blunt admission still had the power to prick her heart, but it did. She should feel bitterness and contempt. Instead, her response was far more personal. Ignoring those thoughts, she said, “You need to be more specific. With her could mean a number of things.”

Jackson’s eyes were bleak. “It’s not what you think.”

“You have no idea what I think,” she countered with quiet dignity. She was determined to keep this conversation professional and impersonal, until she could convince him that Nathan was the lawyer who could best serve him.

“You hate me, don’t you,” he said out of the blue.

Her stomach dropped, but she didn’t let on that his tortured words got to her. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

She didn’t hate him, but she did hate every second of his presence and this conversation. She didn’t want to know why he had been with Roberta and what they did. Two years ago, that woman had been a bone of contention between them, and now she was again, even in death.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to make this personal.”

“About Roberta,” she pressed, ignoring his apology.

“She showed up at the club after a long absence. She was in a mess.”

“A mess, how?”

“A mental and emotional wreck.”

“And you felt sorry for her.” Hallie paused. “Again.”

“Okay, so I felt like I owed—” His jaw stiffened, cutting off his sentence.

“I know how you feel about that,” Hallie said, “so there’s no use repeating it.”

Jackson flushed but he didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “I took her to dinner to try and calm her down.”

“Seems like I’ve heard that before.”

This time, Jackson’s face drained of color. She had struck a nerve and it showed. Hallie reminded herself of the reason for her question. All she wanted was to get enough information from him to warrant calling the firm’s heaviest criminal gun. Nathan didn’t take kindly to having his time wasted. Perhaps Jackson wasn’t in as much trouble as he thought. Once she proved or disproved that, then she’d know where to go from there.

“Sorry, I was out of line.” Her tone was much huskier than she would’ve liked.

“In hindsight,” Jackson said, “I know that taking her out was not a smart move. After dinner, she seemed calmer, and I took her back to her hotel. That was the last time I saw her.”

Hallie remained silent, battling a dull roar in her head.

“You know me, Hallie. I could never have done such a heinous thing.” His eyes were dark and pleading.

“I know, Jackson. That’s why you’re still in my office.”

“But I want to explain about Roberta, especially if—”

She held up her hand, cutting him off again. “Your personal relationship with her is no longer my concern.” He was free to boff anyone he wanted, including Roberta Klein.

“It’s your concern if you’re going to represent me.”

“I haven’t said I’d represent you.”

They stared at each other hard and long.

“Please,” he said, stopping just short of begging.

She heard the break in his voice and it got to her. Again. Jackson might be many things—he was a liar, for sure—but a murderer, no. A man with such a capacity for giving and loving could never bring bodily harm to a woman. So did that mean her resolve to not get involved was weakening? Heaven help her if it was. But when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t deny him anything.

“Look, I’ll take over for now, but only if you agree to meet with Nathan.”

“Fine. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“I’m not finished yet. If it looks like there’s going to be a trial, Nathan will have to take my place in the pecking order.”

At the word trial, he blanched, then asked, “Why?”

“That’s the deal, Jackson. Take it or leave it. I’m not about to jeopardize your life by my lack of experience.”

“I’ll take it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?” A tinge of bitterness had crept into his tone.

“Plenty. For starters, you can go to another firm.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Hallie Hunter.” He paused, sighing deeply, though his features seemed to have become less gaunt since he’d won the first round.

“I told Detective Gomez I’d avail myself for questioning.”

“Are you talking about today? Now?”

Jackson grimaced. “I’d like to get it over with—if you can spare the time, that is.”

She couldn’t, but she would just have to make the time. He was right; to postpone the trek to the police station wouldn’t make it any less palatable for either of them.

“What’s this detective like?” she asked, unfamiliar with Gomez.

“He’s cocky and self-assured.”

During her court appointments on criminal cases, she’d gotten to know many of the ranking detectives and for the most part had developed a good rapport with them. But since she’d been out of the criminal loop for a while, she’d lost her contacts. This Gomez must be a new kid on the block or a transfer.

“Then, we’ll just have to un-cock him,” she said with her usual self-assurance.

For the first time since she’d walked into the room, Jackson smiled. The change was as sudden as it was shocking. Her breath caught as the flush of unwanted heat swept through her.

If he noticed her reaction, he didn’t show it, for which she was most grateful. “Are you ready?” she asked in as normal a voice as she could muster.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hallie paused at the door and looked up at him. “Let me handle things. Until I know what Gomez has, we’ll play our cards close to our chest.”

“I’ll do whatever you say.”

Swallowing a sigh, Hallie squared her shoulders and walked out of the room, fully conscious of Jackson matching her step for step. As long as her commitment wasn’t set in stone, what she was about to undertake would be tolerable. Otherwise…

Hallie shook that thought aside as they left the building and headed for his BMW, hoping for the best and fearing the worst.

“Thanks for coming in so soon, Mr. Cole.”

“No problem.”

Detective Gomez turned to Hallie and extended his hand. After introductions were completed, Hallie decided Jackson’s opinion of the detective was right on target. Cocky. Young. And good-looking.

Gomez smiled at Hallie—a smile that rubbed her the wrong way, maybe because it was as smug as it was suggestive.

“I’ve heard of your firm.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hallie said in a cool tone.

He seemed to think for a second, then his smile disappeared. “No need to be defensive. Some of my friends are defense attorneys. Like Ernie Sanders, for example.”

“Mr. Sanders must not have been that good a friend, Mr. Gomez,” Hallie replied, “or you’d know he died last month.”

“Oh, that’s when he became my best friend, ma’am.”

Hallie stiffened at the direct slam, but before she could make a suitable comeback, Gomez seemed to remember his manners.

“Please, have a seat, both of you. Then perhaps we can get this matter cleared up quickly.”

Once they were seated in his shoebox of an office, he asked, “Can I get you something to drink? Some coffee? Or a Coke?”

Their “no, thank you” came simultaneously.

Gomez shrugged, then helped himself to a cup of coffee. He seemed in no hurry to bring this session to an end, despite his claim to the contrary.

Hallie could feel Jackson’s unrest. He appeared coiled and ready to spring. It was going to be an effort for him to keep his mouth shut and let her do the talking. She sensed right off that the detective and Jackson would tangle if there was no one to referee.

She would have to keep Jackson on a short leash; words said in frustration in a detective’s office had a way of taking on more meaning in the courtroom, and she did not want her client hanging himself because he got angry.

Silence. Two, then three minutes, without a word. Gomez sat across the desk from them, sipping coffee and watching Jackson. When he finally spoke, it jolted Hallie out of her reverie.

“So, were you sleeping with the dead woman, Mr. Cole?”

“No, I was not. And I didn’t kill her, either.”

More silence. Although Hallie didn’t want to look at Jackson, didn’t want to see his face, she had no choice. This was a murder investigation, and no matter how difficult this line of questioning was for her personally, she couldn’t back down. Better to get the ugly question out in the open early.

Jackson’s face had darkened, and he muttered an obscenity. Hallie reached out and placed a hand on his arm. It was hard and rigid, but her touch seemed to calm him immediately.

Another minute passed before Gomez spoke again. “So, tell me about Roberta Klein, Mr. Jackson.”

Jackson looked at Hallie and she gave him a nod, indicating that he was free to answer.

“We are…were…lifelong friends,” Jackson said.

“Then, you saw her often?”

“Not really, at least not in the last year.”

“Oh? Lover’s spat, and she moved out?”

Hallie spoke up. “I think my client has answered that already, Detective. He told you they were not…intimate.”

“For one thing, she didn’t live in Memphis,” Jackson said. “As you know.”

“So she just showed up on your doorstep like some baby wrapped in a blanket, so to speak?” Gomez made no effort to hide his smirk.

Jackson nodded. “That’s exactly what she did.”

“Was she in the habit of doing that? Just showing up at any old time she pleased?”

“In the past, yes.”

“So she felt comfortable—completely at ease—just dropping by out of the blue?”

“One has to assume so.”

“We’re discussing you, Cole.” Gomez’s tone was sharp. “Did she assume so, too?”

“What’s your question, Detective?” Hallie asked in a cold, firm voice, her patience wearing thin.

As if he sensed that, Gomez said, “I understand you took her home.”

“That’s right. I dropped her off rather early, then I left.”

“How was she?” Gomez paused. “When you left.”

Jackson ignored the rich sarcasm in the detective’s voice and asked, “What do you mean?”

Another smirk at the double entendre. “Had she been drinking?”

“A little. Some.”

“Did anything…unusual happen?”

“No,” Jackson said.

More silence. Hallie sensed Jackson’s desire to fill the time with words, but when she laid her hand on his arm a second time, he remained quiet. After two minutes, Gomez got up and poured himself another cup of coffee, his eyes still on Jackson.

Finally, he sat back down, took a slurping sip and set the cup down. “Are you sure, Cole, that the two of you weren’t making it? Doin’ the deed? Wrinklin’ the sheets? Swappin’—”

“Enough, Detective,” Hallie said, already on her feet. “We’re out of here this minute.” She knew a fishing expedition when she heard one. “Do you have any evidence against my client, Gomez? It’s neither a crime nor a sin to be the last person to see someone alive.”

“But I’m not through questioning Mr. Cole.”

“Yes, you are. If you intend to scrape a case together, Gomez, you’ll have to do it without our help.”

Gomez’s already dark features darkened further as he focused his attention on Jackson, who was standing so close to Hallie that she could hear his labored breathing.

“I was hoping for more cooperation from you, Mr. Cole.”

“He’s been more than cooperative, Detective. You chose the low road, but we’re not taking it. If you want to see Mr. Cole again, bring some evidence—a warrant. And just for the record, he will answer no more questions for you.”

“Oh, I’ll bring my warrant, all right, Ms. Hunter. But all in good time. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

Hallie fastened the middle button of the jacket of her pants outfit. “You have your job, Detective. Go to it. Mine is to see that you don’t violate my client’s rights, and I take that just as seriously as you do.”

“No doubt the three of us will meet again,” Gomez said.

“Possibly, but there won’t be any questions the next time.”

“So you’re absolutely refusing to allow Mr. Cole to talk to me again?”

“I never say never, Detective,” Hallie said. “If you brought a fresh attitude and a smattering of knowledge about the Bill of Rights to our next session, I might reconsider.” Then, turning to Jackson, she added, “Are you ready?”

Together they left the building. Outside, the late afternoon air had turned chilly, but it was a lovely evening. A perfect night to spend with a lover next to a smoldering fire sipping on a glass of wine, Hallie thought.

Although mortified at the sudden image, Hallie knew the reason for it. Jackson. He had awakened old and buried yearnings. During the time they were engaged, they had done that very thing more times than she could count. The result had always been a sweet but fiery tumble between the sheets.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he commented in a husky voice.

“I wouldn’t know,” she snapped.

“Hallie?”

“What?”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose. “Why are you angry at me? Did I say something wrong in there?”

“No. It’s just been a long day and I’m tired.”

His lips thinned.

“Be in my office first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “I want you to meet Nathan.”

“Then, you’re not interested in joining me for a cup of coffee?”

She faced him then and their eyes met. Tension, hot and heavy, leapt between them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

His sigh was deep and ragged. “You’re probably right. It isn’t.”

“Just take me back to my car. Please.”