Grave Danger (32 page)

He winked at her. “Attorney-client privilege.”

Sara said, “I understand that a week and a half ago, the Corps of Engineers increased the requirements for your background report. Significantly. Who’s paying for the additions to the scope of work?”

Libby looked to Jason, not sure whether she should answer. She leaned over and told him she hadn’t finished negotiating that task with Jack; he was using a loophole to try to get her to eat the costs.

“My client isn’t going to answer that,” he said.

Sara questioned Libby about the gas jugs used at the site.

“Two weeks ago, I purchased two red five-gallon gas jugs because the one we had leaked.”

“A witness says he saw you place two gas jugs on your back porch on Thursday afternoon.”

“That’s a load of bull. The jugs are used at the site. They’ve never been near the Shelby house. You think I faked my own assault and attempted to burn down my home and office with my own gas jugs? Wouldn’t that be stupid?”

“I’m not here to judge your IQ. I’m just asking questions.”

“I’m obviously a little slow, so let me get this straight. I took my gas cans home from work on Thursday and put them on my back porch—in full view of some witness, because, as we’ve established, I’m not too bright—and later I poured the gas all over my own kitchen and myself. Then I shot myself with a Taser and taped up my own wrists.”

“Yes,” Sara said.

“Have you considered the possibility the witness is wrong?”

“I’m asking the questions, Ms. Maitland, not you. How many times were you zapped with the Taser?”

“I think he kept pressing the trigger. I know the pain stopped three times.”

“How long do you think it went on, total?”

“It felt like forever. But if I had to guess, I’d say a few minutes.”

“What did the pain feel like?”

Like I feel, right now, knowing the man I gave my body and heart to ordered my arrest.
“Like I was being ripped apart from the inside by a thousand forks.”

Sara paused and looked at her. Sympathy passed over her features but was quickly replaced by cool reserve. “There’s one more thing I’d like you to explain. Can you explain how your fingerprints were on both the Molotov cocktail bottle and the adhesive side of the duct tape?”

She was speechless. Hostility, anger, and fight left her. Now she was scared.

Jason sat up straighter. “Which piece of tape had her fingerprints? The first piece from the roll, or all of them?”

Sara looked at him coolly. “I’m conducting this interview, Mr. Caruthers, not you.”

“Then we’re done.” Jason stood and crossed the room to the sound switch and turned it off. “I’d like a moment alone with my client.”

Sara left the room.

“You did well,” Jason said. “Their motive is weak. The eyewitness could be a problem. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“How could my fingerprints be on the adhesive side?” Horror washed through her at the answer: the whole thing had been meticulously planned. “I’ve been perfectly set up. My attacker Tasered me and put my fingerprints on the tape. But why would someone work so hard to frame me?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Tonight, spend some time writing down everything that’s happened since your truck was stolen. Maybe a pattern will appear.”

She nodded and tried to smile, but her life had taken on the surreal quality of a Warner Brothers cartoon. She was the hapless victim of a cunning trickster. This couldn’t be happening to her. She was the type of person who put money in parking meters on Sunday, just to be sure.

The reality of her situation hit her with a clarity she’d missed up to now. She’d focused on Mark and her personal devastation, but this was so much worse than that. She’d been arrested. She could face trial.
For a felony
. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for your counsel, Jason,” she said dully.

“Didn’t you just say you’re taking my dad to the cleaners?” he asked lightly.

She tried to give him a token laugh. All she could make was a dry choking sound.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his warm brown eyes. “Listen, Libby, I’m certain the cops are building a case against Jack and he’s going to be charged with my mother’s murder. He didn’t do it, and we’re going to need you as a defense witness. You’re no good without credibility. I will restore your credibility before he goes to trial. Pro bono.”

“How can you be sure I’d be useful for his defense?”

His hand dropped from her chin while his eyes remained fixed on hers. “You would speak the truth. If he had buried my mom there, he would never have paid you to do the excavation. He knew your methods. He knew the scope. He’d have known she’d be found.”

She nodded. “I said the same thing to Mark.”

“A man who doesn’t listen to reason. But a jury will.”

That Jason believed her without hesitation when her lover was ready to toss her ass in jail caused her to crumble. She couldn’t stop the tear that escaped.
Not now. Not here.
She breathed deeply and wiped her eyes. She hoped no one on the other side of the mirror watched.

Jason looked at her sympathetically. “Listen, I’m going to post bail and get you out of here.”

Relief made her spine lose its starch. “Thank you.”

He pulled her to him and supported her. His hand cupped the back of her head and stroked her hair while his body heat gave her the strength to stand.

“If I go home, and somebody attacks me again, will anyone come to my aid?” she asked against his chest.

“The alarm system is top of the line. The alarm monitoring company will notify emergency services. They have to respond. But even so, you shouldn’t be alone. Have Simone stay with you. She can be useful. For a change.”

O
F COURSE
J
ASON HAD RACED
to Libby’s side. Mark had known he would. Jason’s surprise at learning they were lovers was as damning as all the evidence Luke had outlined, and only confirmed Mark’s suspicion that Libby was using them both.

The interview was over and Sara waited for his feedback, but he was transfixed by the sight of Libby in Jason’s arms. Again. He couldn’t turn away. Jason slid his fingers through her silky hair as though he had the right. Mark’s stone façade developed fractures.

“We need to see the cost proposal,” Sara said.

“Get a warrant. And make sure it covers all her financial records. I want to know how she runs her projects. See if she’s in trouble all around.”

“Yes, sir.”

That he was jealous of Jason was insane. She was playing Jason, too. Just like Sheila, she used the lawyer for her own ends. He ought to feel sorry for the man.

At this point, he should feel nothing but contempt for Libby. He remembered the soft panting sound she emitted just before orgasm. The way she looked at him as though his body was a masterpiece. He felt hollow. A shell.

She emerged from the interview room with her spine straight, head up, eyes cold. His gaze met hers, causing a break in her rigid demeanor. She looked victimized; her eyes revealed pure, raw pain. She took a deep breath, collected herself, and followed Jason down the hall. Mark’s own façade slipped. A chink opened in the armor he’d built around his heart. What if she really was the victim?

Then he’d just savagely destroyed the woman he was hopelessly in love with.

He turned abruptly and crossed the station to his office, where he closed the door and leaned back against the panel. Only hours before he’d pinned her to this very same spot. He could almost smell her, taste her.

He slowly went over all the evidence Luke had outlined. He remembered Brady’s words. Jason’s kiss. Bobby’s suspicion. He matched each of those things with the conversations he’d shared with Libby. Her reluctance to provide her budget information. Her panic over the change in the scope of her project. Her insistence Aaron was stalking her again—right down to her impossible claim he was at the library on Wednesday. She’d said she was wary of Jason’s interest in her, and even stated the man wanted Simone, all while accepting date after date and then not pushing Jason away.

She was guilty as sin. Only after going over the evidence again and again could he breathe normally. That single moment, the idea she might be innocent, nearly destroyed him.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
IX

S
IMONE WAITED IN THE LOBBY
of the police station. With Jason’s help, she’d paid Libby’s bail. She was grateful Coho was a small town and the process was swift; any minute now Libby would be released and she would find out what in the hell was going on.

At last Libby and Jason stepped through the security door. One look at Libby’s face and Simone knew her questions would have to wait. Libby had been…shattered. She hadn’t looked this devastated, this afraid, even when Aaron was at his scary-worst. Libby was barely holding herself together.

“You’re almost out of here,” Simone said.

Libby nodded and made a beeline for the door.

Outside, Libby climbed into Simone’s car. Simone faced Jason and then flinched at the look in his eye. Jason would never respect her, but at least she understood his scorn. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Take care of her. But don’t do anything stupid. Leave her legal defense to me.”

Any other time, any other situation, she’d defend herself. But she couldn’t, not with Libby trying so desperately not to break down into sobs in the car. Not with that damn knowing look in Jason’s eyes. She gave him this round. If she had to, she’d give him every round—as long as he helped Libby.

At the Shelby house, Libby headed directly for her bedroom. Simone watched her climb the stairs, defeat in Libby’s posture, in her slow shuffling steps.

She unloaded the groceries she’d purchased earlier, and then went upstairs to check on Libby. She found her standing in the hallway, staring into the guest bedroom at the wall that had been sprayed with blood a week ago. It had been a mistake to bring Libby here, but she had insisted because the security system was the best money could buy.

“Someone was here,” Libby said. “Someone used a pickaxe to destroy Angela’s mask. Someone sprayed blood on the wall.” Her voice became more emphatic with each word. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” Simone said.

“He came back on Thursday night and hurt me.”

“Yes.”

“He tied me up. He tried to kill me.”

“I know. I believe you, Libby.”

She kicked the wall. “Dammit. Why doesn’t Mark?” Libby’s razor-thin veneer of control broke as she bent down and cradled her foot. “Why is this happening?” She dropped to the floor as sobs shook her entire body.

This breakdown was exactly what Libby needed. Simone slid down the wall and settled on the floor next to her.

“I think I broke my toe,” Libby complained.

“Really?”

“No. Not really. But it hurts. I suppose it’s better than the pain the rest of me feels.”

Simone patted her leg. “I’ll be right back.” She returned a moment later with the bag of groceries, a corkscrew, and two wine glasses. “Before going to the station, I ran to the store to get us dinner.” She dug through the bag and handed Libby a box of chocolate-covered cream-filled cakes.

Libby laughed at the processed, hydrogenated treat, just as Simone had hoped she would. She’d have picked up a pint of Chunky Monkey but had a feeling that flavor of ice cream had been forever ruined for Libby.

“And, because I’m a classy woman, I got us wine to go with this gourmet meal.” She opened the bottle and poured them each a glass.

They sat in the hall and sipped their wine in silence for a while, as early evening shadows shifted toward twilight. Finally Simone said, “So tell me what happened.”

Libby sighed. “Well. Let’s see. Last Thursday someone tried to kill me. Then I had the most incredible weekend of my life. We talked. We laughed. We made love. Then today he had me arrested.”

“Hmm. You must be awful in bed.”

Libby burst out laughing, even as she swiped at tears. “No. Well, not this time anyway. I’m pretty sure I wore him out.” Her voice faded. “Damn, I can’t believe I was arrested. How much was my bail?”