The calamity Janes (18 page)

“But you haven’t really changed your mind about what happened that night, have you? You still believe that Sue Ellen merely defended herself.”

“With all my heart,” she said firmly.

“Then I don’t see that you have any choice. You have to handle things exactly as you are.”

She studied his face, tried to read exactly what he was thinking, but his expression was neutral. “You disagree with me, though, don’t you?”

“It’s not about what I think.”

“Isn’t it? If I can’t convince you, how I can I convince a jury?”

Ford sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “Emma, I only know part of the story, at least firsthand. You know all of it.”

“We’re back to the interview again.”

He nodded. “It’s the only way. Do you intend to put Sue Ellen on the stand?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll have to.”

“Do you doubt for a second that the prosecutor will be harder on her than I could ever be?”

“No,” she admitted.

In fact, one of the things that terrified her was that Sue Ellen would crack under the pressure of cross-examination. Worse, Emma feared that Sue Ellen would retreat into a passive, accepting behavior that allowed the prosecutor’s verbal assaults to go uncontested. Emma’s objections would only protect her so much.

And no matter how well Emma tried to prepare Sue Ellen for being questioned, Emma couldn’t guarantee that Sue Ellen would fight on her own behalf. There had been too many years of battering, too many years of thinking that she deserved to be mistreated. The pattern might be too ingrained to change before the trial. If the prosecutor started to badger her, she might simply consider it her due.

“Talking to me could help prepare her for court,” Ford said.

But allowing Sue Ellen to be interviewed would require a huge leap of faith on Emma’s part. She wasn’t sure she was ready to take such a leap just yet. She looked into Ford’s eyes and saw only the thoughtfulness and compassion she had come to expect from him.

“There would have to be ground rules,” she said slowly, coming to a decision she prayed she wouldn’t regret.

“Whatever you say.”

“I’d need to see what you intend to print.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“But—”

“That’s the way it has to be, Emma. I don’t send stories out for approval. No respectable journalist does. If there is any question at all in my mind about accuracy, I will go over it with you, but that’s the best I can promise.”

It wasn’t so much the accuracy that worried her, it was the slant he might put on the piece. And once it was in print, if it was devastating to Sue Ellen’s case, it would be too late to fix things.

He tucked a finger under her chin and met her gaze. “I am not out to get Sue Ellen,” he assured her. “I only want to get to the truth. The whole truth.”

Emma felt her heart lodge in her throat. She was fairly certain—no, she
knew
—that Ford wouldn’t deliberately try to sabotage her case. Because he cared about her, because he had something to prove to her, he was probably the most sympathetic journalist she could ever find. He would be fair to Sue Ellen, at least as fair as he knew how to be.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” she said finally, knowing that there was a lot more on the line than Sue Ellen’s future. Their fate—hers and Ford’s—was hanging in the balance as well.

Glancing into his eyes, she could see that he understood that as clearly as she did. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I won’t let you down,” he said solemnly.

For all their sakes, Emma prayed he was right.

F
ord knew exactly what was at stake in the interview Emma had promised to arrange. Her face had been a mirror of her emotions. She was terrified that she was making a mistake, yet she had weighed the odds, struggled with her own biases and, in the end, decided to trust him. He didn’t take that trust lightly, because he knew what it had cost her. If he failed her—or even if she only perceived that he had—it would destroy them.

A part of him chafed at being put to such a test, but another part understood it. Her ex-husband and the reporter who’d conspired with him had given her good cause to be wary of journalists.

His interview with Sue Ellen had been scheduled for two o’clock. In the meantime, he spent his morning writing out questions, reading through the stack of books he’d accumulated on battered-wife syndrome.

When he was as prepared as he could possibly be, he went on the Internet to do a few last searches for
information. And while he was there, he called up the archives of the Denver papers in search of the story that had almost destroyed Emma’s life.

It wasn’t that difficult to find amid the list of references to her name. Only one had a screaming headline about a breach of ethics. He read that and the story that had preceded it, the actual news story that suggested Emma had leaked confidential information.

The reporter had been clever, Ford would give him that. His wording had been precise, relying on innuendo rather than explicit statements that could later be pointed to as libelous. As she had told him, anyone reading it casually would get the distinct impression that Emma was the source for the inside information about her client. Only a more thorough scrutiny would prove that the reporter had never actually said that.

Indignant on her behalf, he called the paper and asked for the city editor, listed on the masthead as Clay Jennings. When the man came on the line, Ford explained who he was.

“I’m wondering if a reporter named Guy Northrup still works for you,” he said.

There was a hesitation, then the editor said, “No, he left about three years ago.”

“Was he fired?”

“No, he resigned,” Jennings said.

“In the wake of the Emma Rogers debacle, I imagine.”

The man didn’t even try to hide his surprise. “You know about that?”

“Yes.”

“What’s your interest in it?” he asked. “Guy’s not looking for a job with you, is he? I thought he’d pretty
much given up on getting a job in the newspaper business. We certainly haven’t given him any references.”

“Not a chance,” Ford said. “I just wanted to see if the man got what was coming to him.”

“Last I heard, he was selling fertilizer at one of those mega-home stores. Seemed to me like it was a job right up his alley,” Jennings said wryly. “By the way, isn’t Ms. Rogers handling a case up your way now?”

“As a matter of fact, she is.”

“Keep an eye on her. She’s damned good at what she does.”

Ford found himself grinning at the admiration in the man’s voice. “I know that. Glad to hear you recognize it down there.”

He hung up, feeling better for some reason he couldn’t precisely explain. He wasn’t even sure why he had made the call other than to be sure that there had been no lasting damage to Emma’s reputation and that the man who’d harmed her had paid by losing his job. As for Kit Rogers, he was pretty sure that losing Emma would have been punishment enough for him. He was probably still reeling from the discovery that she had been strong enough to walk away.

Ford didn’t intend to make the same mistake.

Emma was more nervous than she would have been if she were the one being interviewed. The minute the words had left her mouth the night before, she’d wanted to retract the offer. How could she put Sue Ellen’s fate in Ford’s hands?

How could she not?

As a result of the internal struggle, she hadn’t slept a wink all night. Instead, she had played through dif
ferent scenarios, trying to figure out ways she could leap into the middle of the interview if things started to go awry. An image of Ford’s indignant expression if she did just that was the only thing that gave her any reason to smile.

When she could stand her own company no longer, she went into town and headed straight for Stella’s. Lauren had flown in again the night before and had promised to meet Emma to lend her some much needed moral support.

When she walked into the diner, she found not only Lauren, but Karen, Gina and Cassie, as well.

“I see you’ve rallied the troops,” she said to Lauren, managing a weak smile as she sat down.

“Only because you sounded as if you needed us.
We
all know you made the right decision,” Lauren said with absolute confidence.

“Oh, really? And how do you know that?”

“Wisdom,” Karen said, grinning. “We
are
getting older and wiser, you know.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with us. We have faith in your judgment,” Cassie corrected.

“And confidence in Ford,” Gina added.

“You sound so sure,” Emma said wistfully.

“Everything is going to work out, not just for Sue Ellen, but for you and Ford,” Cassie insisted. “I’ve never seen two people better suited for each other.”

“Or who make more sparks fly,” Gina added with a grin.

“I can’t even think about that,” Emma responded. “There’s too much riding on this interview.”

“Well, I recommend hot-fudge sundaes all around,” Lauren said. “Nobody can be depressed when they’re eating all those gooey calories.”

“I thought you were back on carrot sticks and yogurt,” Gina said, regarding her curiously.

“Yeah, well, things change. If I want hot fudge, I can have it.”

“Of course, you can,” Karen soothed, then beckoned for Stella and placed the order.

They were still indulging when Ford strolled in and came straight to the table in the back. He nodded at the others, but his gaze locked on Emma’s.

“Moral support?” he inquired lightly.

“Yes,” she said unrepentantly.

He sighed. “You don’t need it, you know.”

“We’ve been telling her that,” Gina said, reaching for another chair and pulling it over. “Join us.”

Emma scowled, but she scooted over to make room for him. He sat down, then gazed at the empty sundae dishes. “It must have been a heavy conversation if it required hot fudge.”

“It was,” Emma said tightly.

“I need to get back to the ranch,” Karen said suddenly.

“I’m coming with you,” Lauren added.

Gina and Cassie stood up as well.

“Where are you going?” Emma demanded.

“Things to do,” Gina declared.

“Cole’s waiting for me,” Cassie explained with a shrug.

“He wasn’t waiting five minutes ago,” Emma complained.

“Nope. It’s later now.” Cassie grinned, then gave her a kiss. “You’re in safe hands.”

“I wish I believed that,” Emma said.

Ford watched the hurried departures without comment. Emma frowned.

“You certainly do know how to disrupt a party,” she grumbled.

“Is that what it was? The atmosphere didn’t seem very festive.”

“How could it be under the circumstances?”

“Emma, if you still have a problem with me interviewing Sue Ellen, we can call it off.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she protested. “I need people to see her side of things.”

“There are other reporters,” he pointed out. “I can hire a freelancer to do this interview if it will make you less uneasy.”

She shook her head at once. She might not be sure she was doing the right thing, but she did know that she was better off with Ford asking the questions than a total stranger.

“It has to be you.”

“Not if it’s going to ruin our chances of being together,” he said. “You mean a lot to me, more than I ever expected anyone to mean. I want us to have a future.”

When she was about to argue the point, he held up a silencing hand. “Look, I know what’s on the line here. If I fail you, if I get this story wrong or misquote Sue Ellen, whether it’s right or wrong, you’re going to use it as an excuse to end things between us. I know that.” His gaze locked on hers. “I also know that if I don’t do this, you’ll never know in your heart if you can trust me and we won’t stand a chance then, either. Talk about a rock and a hard place…but that’s okay. I have no intention of giving you any excuse to break things off.”

She swallowed hard. He had pegged it exactly right, and even she could see how unfair she was being.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

“So am I. Let me ask you something. Are you aware that Guy Northrup resigned in the wake of what he did to you?”

She regarded him with surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I checked into it. I suppose I wanted to be sure he had paid for what he’d done.”

“Paid? You call that paying?”

“He lost his job.”

“He resigned. He wasn’t fired.”

“But I got the sense that he would have been, if he hadn’t quit. And the city editor down there reports that he’s working at some home improvement store, that he can’t get a job for a legitimate paper. Doesn’t that reassure you at all that responsible journalists weed out the bad apples?”

“I’m relieved to know that he hasn’t merely moved on to wreak havoc on someone else’s life,” she conceded. “But what he did was a crime for which he’ll never pay.” She regarded Ford sadly. “Where’s the justice in that?”

Judging from his silence, he didn’t have an adequate answer to her question.

Emma stood up. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ford stood beside her, but when she would have started from the restaurant, he held her back. “I won’t let you down, Emma. You might not like every word I write, but I swear to you it will be evenhanded and fair and accurate.”

His words weren’t nearly as reassuring as he clearly intended them to be, but she knew they were the best she could hope for. “I know you’ll try. If I didn’t be
lieve that with all my heart, we wouldn’t be doing this.”

At the jail, Ryan met them and escorted them into his office. His gaze locked with Ford’s. “I’m counting on you,” he said grimly.

Emma’s gaze was on Ford’s face, and she saw the anguish in his expression. In that instant, she knew just how deeply he cared not only for her, but for his friend, and how deeply he was hoping not to let them down while still being true to his own ethics and values. They were putting him in a potentially impossible situation, but all three of them knew that there was no other way. She also knew that Ford would do what he felt was honorable and right, no matter the cost to him—or them—personally.

“I’ll get Sue Ellen,” Ryan said.

It was several minutes before he returned. Sue Ellen had been allowed to wear a dress for the interview, and she had taken time to brush her hair. She wore no makeup, though, and her expression was haggard. Her gaze darted from Emma to Ford and back again.

“Sue Ellen, you know Mr. Hamilton,” Emma said quietly. “He wants to ask you a few questions.”

Sue Ellen twisted her hands in her lap, but she nodded. Ryan put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. For just a second she seemed to lean into his touch, but her gaze never left Ford’s face.

“I’ll do my best to answer them,” she whispered.

Emma had spent an hour the night before and another hour this morning briefing Sue Ellen. Emma had advised her client to go into as much detail about what living with Donny was like as she felt comfortable doing. She was going to have to get used to telling the
sordid story anyway, because the prosecutor would be eager to punch holes in it.

Emma sat back silently as Ford asked his questions, his tone gentler than she’d expected, his expression faltering as the grim picture emerged. She watched his hands bunch into fists, heard his barely contained gasps, saw the color drain from his face at Sue Ellen’s matter-of-fact description of her life with the man who’d vowed to love, honor and cherish her.

“Was your husband always like this? From the very beginning?”

Sue Ellen nodded, silent tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

“I loved him,” she said simply. “Besides, where would I have gone?”

“Surely there were family members or friends who could have helped,” Ford said.

Sue Ellen swallowed hard. “I was too ashamed. Besides, Donny said no one would believe me anyway.”

“But there must have been bruises, cuts, broken bones? A doctor would have known.”

“I only went to the doctor once. I told him I’d been injured in an accident.”

“Show him your arm,” Emma instructed gently.

Sue Ellen held out her right arm where the bone had clearly been broken at one time and not set properly.

“He broke your arm?” Ford said, his face pale.

“Yes.”

“Did you get treatment?”

She shook her head. “Donny put a splint on it. He said it would be fine.”

Ford muttered a harsh expletive under his breath.
“Had he ever threatened you with a gun before that night when he died?”

“All the time,” she said in a whisper. “He had at least three in the house that I know of. One night…” Her voice broke.

Emma reached for her hand even as Ryan rubbed her shoulders. “It’s okay. Tell him.”

“One night he held it to my head and made me have sex.”

Ryan turned away, but not before Emma saw the fury in his eyes, the heartache on his face.

“He raped you?” Ford asked.

Sue Ellen started to shake her head. “He was my husband,” she began, but this time Emma cut her off.

“He raped you,” she said fiercely. “I don’t care if he was your husband, that’s what it was.”

Sue Ellen broke down then. Covering her face with her hands, she wept. Ryan was at her side at once, kneeling beside her, whispering encouragement. Sue Ellen’s gaze locked with his as if he were her lifeline. Emma couldn’t help wondering what was going to happen when Ryan had to testify about the shooting in court. Would Sue Ellen feel betrayed yet again? Or would she understand that Ryan was just doing his job?

Emma sighed. Would she be any more forgiving when Ford did his?

“I think that’s enough,” she said quietly.