Coming Up Roses (39 page)

"Objection!" the prosecutor cried. "This is an obvious ploy to gain juror sympathy!"

The judge rapped sharply with his gavel. "Overruled! Continue, Mrs. McGovern."

Kate ran a finger under her collar and cleared her throat. "I—I can't remember the question."

Defler repeated himself. Kate grasped for what she had been saying, then resumed her testimony. "Anyone who looks can see that her hand had to have been held in the flames for a long while." Her voice quavered. "Imagine, if you will, how she must have screamed. Faced with those same circumstances, show me a mother who wouldn't have considered killing Joseph Blakely, and I'll show you a woman who isn't fit to raise a child."

"That doesn't answer my question," he said softly.

Kate took a bracing breath. "Yes, I thought about hitting him on the head. I nearly did."

"What prevented you?"

Kate felt her face twisting, felt tears welling in her eyes. But she couldn't regain her composure. "I'd like to believe that at the last second something noble in my character held me back." Bracing herself against a violent trembling that had invaded her body, she gripped the chair arms. "But deep in my heart—" She moistened her lips and swallowed back an unbidden little moan. Then, cupping her hands over her face, she cried, "The honest truth is that I was too spineless to do it!"

"Katie, no!" Zachariah burst out. "You have more courage in your little finger than anyone else in this room."

Kate hunched her shoulders, wishing she could melt into the gleaming wood of the witness box and disappear.

Sobs choked her. The memories clawed at her, too horrible to remember.

"Defler, that's enough," Zachariah cried.

The judge rapped wildly with his gavel. "Order in the court. Mr. McGovern, take your seat and refrain from speaking out of turn!"

Kate felt Zachariah's strong arm come around her. She turned toward him and clutched his shirt.

"Mr. McGovern, take your seat!" Defler cried.

"This has gone on long enough," Zachariah said. "No more questions. Not without a recess or something. She's too upset to answer."

"Maybe the jury would like to hear the truth!" someone roared from the back of the courtroom.

Kate flinched at the sound of that voice. Ryan! Zachariah swore beneath his breath. A gasp of surprise rose from the spectator seating area.

"She's a lying bitch!" Footsteps clumped toward the judge's bench. "And you, McGovern! You're a murdering bastard! I told you I'd do some digging. Only I didn't use a shovel. After I heard about the indictment, I went to the Applegate Valley . From the first minute I saw you, I suspected you had helped her bury Joseph's body. All I needed was proof of your flawed character. Now I have it!"

Kate felt Zachariah's body snap taut. "That has no bearing on this trial."

"No bearing? No bearing!" Ryan gave a maniacal laugh. "You murdered your wife and her lover, and you claim it has no bearing?"

"Order in the court!" the judge cried.

Kate gasped. "Ryan, how can you say something so obscene! Mr. McGovern didn't even live in the area when Joseph died."

Ryan's blue eyes glowed with red as his gaze met hers. "Birds of a feather flock together. He burned his wife and her lover to death. Found them in bed together and set the house ablaze! Look at his face! How do you think he got those scars? The fire went out of control when he set it, that's how!"

Kate glanced up. The expression on Zachariah's face made her blood run cold. When his hazel eyes met hers, she read the truth. Ryan wasn't making this story up. It had happened. It had actually happened.

"No charges were ever filed against me," he said weakly.

"Enough!" the judge roared. "Back to your seats!"

Ryan ignored him, his attention riveted on Zachariah. "The only reason you were never charged was because they couldn't gather enough evidence, you miserable bastard!"

Shocked and appalled, Kate drew back from Zachariah, begging him with her gaze to deny it. His mouth settled into a grim line, and his jaw tightened.

"A jealous husband's retribution!" Ryan ranted. "Punishment by fire. Wasn't that how it happened, Mr.

McGovern? Your wife was unfaithful to you—you came home from a cattle-buying trip and caught her in the act

—and in a fit of rage, you murdered her and her lover!"

"No," Kate whispered. "Oh, my God, no."

Ryan began to laugh, a horrible, mad-sounding laughter. He leveled a finger at Kate, tears of twisted mirth streaming from his eyes. "Let her go free! What worse punishment can there be than to be shackled to a cold-blooded killer? You claim Joseph was cruel, Kate? Well, now you'll see what real cruelty is, won't you? Every day for the rest of your life. The perfect punishment!"

The judge rapped his gavel again. "Order in the court! Mr. Blakely, take a seat or be held in contempt!"

"That'd be fitting because I am in contempt!" Ryan's laughter faded as abruptly as it came. "My brother was a fine and honorable man! How dare this court allow his murderess to sit up there saying such vile things, sullying his good name when he's no longer alive to defend himself? Handmaidens of Satan, that's what she and her daughter are!"

The judge hammered wildly. "McGovern? Blakely! To your seats!"

Zachariah released Kate and stepped down from the witness box. Ryan threw him a contemptuous look, then rounded on her. "You and that child deserved everything my brother did to you!" he cried. "Both of you! He was only trying to save you from yourselves. Wicked, that's what you are. Wicked and sinful!"

Gripping the arms of her chair, Kate leaned slightly forward and cried, "My daughter is four years old! Only four years old! Say what you like about me, but she hasn't a wicked bone in her entire body! Your brother was a twisted, insane monster!"

"And you're a treacherous, lying whore!"

Kate shrank back against her chair. Blurred figures ran forward, but all she could see was Ryan. He shook away the court attendants as though they didn't have substance. As if in a dream, she saw him leap at her. She tried to evade him, but she couldn't move quickly enough even though everything seemed to happen around her with a crazy slowness.

Ryan floating toward her, his hands clawing, his blue eyes wild. His weight slamming against her. And then an awful pain in her throat.

From that point on, everything occurred as swiftly as liquid being sucked down a funnel. A gargling gasp, which she dimly realized was her own, and a pounding sensation inside her head. Falling. A body on top of hers. A frantic need for breath. Black spots. And Ryan's voice.
You deserved it, you ungrateful bitch. You and that
miserable brat. He had no choice but to discipline you! No choice!

Kate heard screams. Not hers because she couldn't breathe. Male voices. Shouting. All of it seemed to come to her from a great distance away. Something at her throat. She clawed frantically to breathe, but the hands around her neck wouldn't slacken. Then she heard Zachariah, roaring with rage. More shouts. More screams. Suddenly, the strangling pressure on her throat let up. Air. Kate clawed at her collar, her need so great she barely registered she was on the floor of the witness stand.

Air, she had to have air. Her lungs grabbed frantically for breath, but it felt as if something was in her throat, blocking her wind. Blackness encroached, an awful, blanketing blackness.

A
s Zach followed the deputy along the cell-block corridor, he felt as though he were walking toward the executioner's block. Katie. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget that look he had seen in her eyes this morning when Ryan burst into the courtroom. Oh, God, why hadn't he told her? We can't have secrets between us. His own words came back to haunt him now, making a mockery of everything he had worked so hard to build between them.

Trust. Kate had finally given him hers, and if he'd had any sense, he would have rewarded it with honesty. He had nothing to hide, after all. Now, after hearing it from another's lips, she was never going to believe him innocent.

As he and the deputy approached her cell, Zach steeled himself for a battle. She probably wouldn't like the idea of being locked in with him. Not that he blamed her. Free of one nightmarish marriage, and now ensnared in another.

Swallowing his dread, Zach straightened his shoulders. No, she wouldn't like the idea of being locked in a cell with him. But that was just too damned bad. He wasn't about to play the gentleman, not this time. He had too much to lose, namely her, and by God, he'd fight to keep her.

A single lamp hung from a ceiling hook inside her cell, and its sputtering wick sent out a feeble glow. He glimpsed her lying flat on her back on the narrow cot, fragile face waxen, her hands clasped at her waist like a corpse laid out in a coffin. The instant the key grated in the lock, however, she sprang erect and discarded the damp cloth that had been draped at her throat.

In the dim light, he couldn't read her expression. The deputy swung the door wide, and Zach stepped into the enclosure, wishing for the first time in his misbegotten life that he were a man of smaller stature. The lamplight threw his shadow against the wall, a huge, hulking shadow that reminded him of how big a man he was and how intimidating he must look.

He regretted that. But then tonight he was filled with regrets, and there didn't seem to be a whole hell of a lot he could do to rectify any of them. Her eyes, which had always seemed to him the biggest thing about her, looked like gigantic splotches in her pale face. Her mouth was drawn and colorless. As she perched on the edge of the cot, she kept her tautly folded hands in her lap. "Zachariah," she whispered.

Even in the dimness, he could see the bruises along her throat. Her new russet-colored gown was ripped at the shoulder, and a bit of torn lace dangled from her bodice. Doc Willowby had given her a sedative, and he could see the lingering effects of that as well, mainly in her eyes, which were still dilated and slightly unfocused. Damn Ryan Blakely to hell. He hoped they kept the bastard in jail and that he rotted there for the remainder of his days.

Zach had pressed charges of assault, a pitiful vengeance when what he really wanted was to throttle the maniac.

At least the man wouldn't be able to bedevil Kate for a few days, and that was something.

"How's the throat?" he asked.

That wasn't what he wanted to ask. The doctor had already given him an account of her condition, for one thing, and for another, a few bruises were the least of her problems.

She worked her hands free and touched trembling fingertips to her larynx. "Better, much better. I slept nearly all day."

"That's what Doc Willowby said." Zach hooked his thumbs over his belt and shifted his weight. Bending his head to shuffle the toe of one boot, he saw that he was wearing his red shirt and wondered, vaguely, why in hell he hadn't chosen blue. Red for rage, red for passion. Blue was a gentler color, and right now, he needed all the help he could get. "I tried to see you earlier. He didn't want you disturbed."

He forced his head up, met her slightly bleary gaze, wished she'd say something, even if she screamed it. A hundred different words crowded into his throat. "Ryan's locked up. Were you told?"

She blinked and frowned slightly. Passing a hand over her eyes, she murmured, "I remember something about it."

She shot a worried glance at the corridor. "Not near me, though. Right?"

Zach wanted to grab her up in his arms and promise her no one would ever hurt her again. At the moment, though, she probably saw him as her biggest threat. "He can't get anywhere close to you, Katie. The sheriff saw to that. That's one of the benefits of having a lot of drunken loggers to lock up every Saturday night, I guess.

Plenty of space."

The stiffness eased from her shoulders. Zach struggled to swallow. Moonlight came in through the window behind her, creating a nimbus of silver around her. She looked like an angel sitting there. On a jail cot. Jesus, she didn't belong in here. The realization that she might spend the rest of her days locked up—because of him—

nearly sent him to his knees.

He made throbbing fists over his belt. No. He wouldn't think like that. The jurors were fair men. They wouldn't allow Zach's past to affect their decision regarding Kate's future. If Zach hadn't believed that with all his heart, he already would have been planning ways to break her out of here. And if that wasn't crazy, he didn't know what was. But, then, it seemed a time for craziness.

"Kate, I…" His voice trailed off, and he stared hard at the floor, wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness. It was with a feeling akin to horror that he heard himself say, instead, "If you've been considering getting a divorce, get it straight out of your head. I'll fight you on it to my last breath."

She said nothing, and he finally gathered the courage to lift his gaze. The bewildered expression on her small face caught at his heart.

"I don't like using strong-arm tactics with a woman," he rushed to add, "but if it's that or give you up, I will. Don't think I won't. You're my wife. I guess maybe you're not too happy about that right now. And I'm real sorry you've got to go through this. But there you have it."

She curled trembling fingers around the locket he had given her. Lifting her gaze to his, she whispered, "You know, Zachariah, you have a very bad habit of bringing up divorce or an annulment every time we hit a rough spot."

Zach felt as if a two-hundred pound man had punched him in the guts. Mentally, he staggered back a step, trying to read her expression. Her mouth quivered at the corners. Peering through the wavering light at her face, he decided her eyes definitely looked unfocused, and he realized she must still be under the effects of the sedative.