Nothing But the Truth (31 page)

“Like you knew Ross was going to get a deal in the first place? You said they would never make an offer on this case. You said they were going to take it all the way. I know him. If he was offered the chance to avoid the death penalty, he would give up his own mother. If they put me on trial now, I don’t have any leverage. They’ll give me the needle for sure.”

Brett was riveted by the scene. She didn’t completely understand what was going on, but she sensed Mrs. Phillips was Ross Edwards’s missing partner in crime. What Paulson was doing here was a complete mystery. Brett wanted to stay and see what else she could find out, but the anger brewing between these two women was likely to create a dangerous situation. She started to back away quietly, when a piercing sound rang from her purse.

Brett cursed under her breath. Her BlackBerry. She rummaged through the contents of her bag as she dashed away. She finally found the infuriating device and switched it off as she ran down the drive. Brett thanked the universe she hadn’t locked her car. She jerked open the door, threw her bag on the floorboard, and slid into her seat. She jammed the keys into the ignition, started the car, and threw it into gear. Glancing at the street ahead, she saw no other cars, but she found herself looking directly into the angry eyes of Kim Paulson.

Paulson slammed her open hands against the driver’s side glass, yelling for Brett to roll down the window. Brett responded by gunning the engine and rocketing down the street as fast as her little energy efficient ride would go. She blew two stop signs in a row, turning first right, then left, her route the product of pure adrenaline. Her glance flicked quickly back and forth between the rearview mirror and the path ahead as she fought for enough composure to figure out her next step. She jabbed at her BlackBerry and cursed its slowness. Finally, it powered back up, and she pressed nine-one-one. Before the first ring, she heard the screech of tires, and her rearview mirror filled with the image of a large SUV. As the vehicle bore down, Brett clicked off the call and jammed her accelerator to the floor.

*

Ryan sat next to Brett on the swan boat. The setting sun cast light shadows across the still water like flickering candlelight. They were holding hands. No barriers existed between them now. No politics, no litigation. No longer adversaries, they were free to be lovers. Ryan could only hope Brett would still want her.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

Brett squeezed her hand. “Shh, it’s over now.”

“I quit the office, the campaign. I have no future.” Ryan paused, still surprisingly cautious about exposing the extent of her vulnerabilities. “I could be suspended, disbarred even.”

Brett pulled her close and murmured softly in her ear. “Darling, you still have a future, even if it’s not what you once thought it would be. We’ll get through whatever we need to. Together.” She lightly kissed Ryan’s cheek and nuzzled her neck. “I love you.”

Ryan didn’t try to stop the tears. She no longer cared about preserving her tough veneer. All she wanted, all she had ever wanted, was this combination of tender closeness and all-consuming passion she had found with Brett. Everything else would follow. “I love you too.”

*

Until now, Brett had no idea her Prius could handle hairpin turns at high speeds. She wished she hadn’t acquired that nugget of information through experience, but Paulson’s SUV was bearing down fast, and she knew if she didn’t keep accelerating, her little car would be crushed in its path. On pure instinct, she’d sped wildly through the neighborhood, making erratic, last second turns in hopes she could shake Paulson. She was still ahead, but she’d hit two curbs in her attempt to avoid her pursuer. Brett glanced at her white knuckles, and murmured a simple “thanks” to the universe for sparse midday traffic.

Brett’s brief distraction was costly. Paulson pulled alongside and steered the front of her powerful ride into Brett’s left rear bumper. Brett gripped the wheel tighter as she struggled to control her careening vehicle. She could hear the roar of the SUV as Paulson accelerated again. Brett had no idea how long she could keep up this pace. She needed help and she needed it soon. She glanced left and right. Not a soul in sight. A mixed blessing, considering Paulson would probably mow down anyone who got in her way.
Just think what she’ll do if she catches you.
Brett punched the gas and launched her car to the right. As she sped down the sleepy residential streets, she focused. She had to get to a more populated area. Paulson wouldn’t chase her like a maniac down a busy, commercial street. Would she?

Brett glanced back. Paulson was gaining, but her last crazy turn had bought Brett some time. She reached for her phone.

 “Tony, it’s Brett. I’m in a hurry, so just listen. I’m being followed by Detective Paulson.” Brett wished she had shared with him, or anyone for that matter, the major ick factor Paulson had been putting off from day one. If she had, she might be spared having to explain now, under such extreme circumstances. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but she’s bad news and she’s trying to run me down. The cops aren’t going to buy it, so I need you to reach Ryan Foster.” After she disconnected from 911earlier, Brett realized she had to find help from someone who wasn’t going to give Paulson the benefit of the doubt because she was a fellow officer. She recalled Ryan’s subtlety displayed dislike of Paulson. Besides, Ryan owed her. “If she’s not in the office, see if you can get her cell. Try Gloria in Judge Langston’s office. She’ll have Ryan’s number. Just tell her it’s an emergency.”

“And when I reach her?”

“Tell her I’m in trouble and patch her through.”

*

The ringing phone nudged her awake. Ryan yearned to remain in Brett’s embrace, but the persistent tone edged out the dream, and Brett’s touch fell away. She pulled her cell toward her, planning to turn it off without answering. The only calls she ever received were from the office, and they could wait. She didn’t recognize the number, but the caller ID spelled out the name Logan Law Firm. Ryan flipped open the phone. “Brett?”

“No, it’s Tony, her office manager. She’s in trouble. I’m connecting you now.”

Ryan didn’t have time to process the curt message before Brett’s voice came through the line, firing off facts.

“Ryan, Paulson is involved with Ross Edwards’s accomplice. I found out, and she’s chasing me down right now.” Brett struggled to keep her fear from overwhelming her cry for help. “She already clipped my car once. I just turned from Maple onto Inwood. I need help.”

Ryan heard the desperation in Brett’s voice. She remembered back to the Internet research she’d done after first meeting Brett. “Your office is on Oak Lawn Avenue?”

“Yes, Oak Lawn and Fairmount.”

Ryan’s first instinct was to jump in her own car and drive as fast as she could toward Brett. As much as she wanted to run to the rescue herself, she knew she could do more for Brett by staying where she was and sending help.

“Turn around and drive to your office. Stay on main streets. Use Harry Hines Boulevard to get back to Oak Lawn. I’ll stay on the line with you, but I need to make a call on my home phone. I’m right here and help is on the way.”

Brett listened through the line as Ryan dialed a number and waited through the rings. She heard her announce to someone on the other line that she was calling on behalf of DA Leonard Duncan and needed cars dispatched to Brett’s office and along the route she told Brett to take. She cautioned whoever she was speaking with that Brett’s pursuer was a Richardson cop, but that she was wanted and likely to be armed. She described Brett’s vehicle, then switched back to Brett to get a description of Paulson’s vehicle and the plate number. Finally, Ryan disconnected the other call and came back on the line with her.

“Brett? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“She still behind you?”

“Yes. She’s a few cars back, but gaining.”

Ryan grabbed her wallet and keys, jammed her feet into a pair of running shoes, and ran toward her garage. “Listen to me closely. Lots of help is on the way. You’re going to be okay.”

“Uh huh.”

Ryan wanted to reach through the phone, gather Brett into her arms, and whisper comfort. She did the next best thing, forcing her voice to remain calm and sure. “Brett, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.” Ryan peeled out of her driveway and sped toward Brett’s office. She would continue to offer the encouragement Brett needed, but she longed to speak words of her dream instead. She debated holding back, hanging on to the hope she would have the opportunity to speak her feelings when the current crisis passed.
What if I never get the chance? Say it now.
“Brett, I—“

The screech of tires interrupted her declaration. She heard a loud crash, followed by a slam. Then silence. Ryan shouted Brett’s name into the phone over and over, but no one answered. She jammed the accelerator to the floor and tore through town, desperate to make good on her promise.

 “Ma’am, can you hear me? Ma’am?”

Brett heard the voice, but it sounded very far away. She wanted to go back to sleep, but the voice was persistent. “Don’t worry. We’re going to get you out of here.” Brett waved her hand toward the sound of the voice. Something about the voice wasn’t right, but the reason why eluded her. She wished whoever was talking would be quiet, let her go back to sleep. She’d been dreaming. If she could remember the last part of her dream, maybe she could jump back in and find out the ending.

Ryan.
She’d been talking to Ryan, and then nothing. A crash, and then Ryan’s voice was gone, replaced by the determined male voice urging her not to worry. Brett’s eyes flew open. She was lying back in the front seat of her car, with a deflated airbag on her lap. She wiggled her fingers and toes. Everything worked. She pushed the airbag away and reached for the door handle. The door wouldn’t budge. She looked at the passenger side of the car. Her little Prius was hugging the side of another car. She was going to need help to get out.

Brett didn’t have to wait long before the voice returned. It belonged to a handsome man wearing a firefighter’s uniform. He was holding a strange looking tool with a claw on one end and a pick and wedge on the other.

“Good, you’re awake.”

“I am.”

“Talk to me about how you’re feeling.”

“My forehead’s burning, and I feel a little shaky, but otherwise okay.”

“You have some skin burn from the airbag. We’ll take care of it as soon as we get this door open. Hang tight and we’ll get you out of there in a couple minutes.” He signaled another uniformed man over, and together they worked on the door. Brett leaned her head back and tried to remember the events leading up to the crash. Ryan. She’d been talking to Ryan on the phone. The memory of the conversation flooded back. Paulson was chasing her, and Ryan was talking her to safety. Brett looked down at the console, but she didn’t see her phone. She looked out the window, twisting her head back and forth. No sign of Paulson’s SUV. She could see the Scottish Rite Hospital on her right, which meant she was on Oak Lawn Avenue, yards away from her office. Suddenly, she was desperate to get out of the car, get to her office, and get hold of Ryan, who had to be worried sick. Seconds after she had the thought, the firemen jerked the door open. Brett lurched out of her seat.

“Wait a minute, ma’am. Take it easy.” Fireman number one gently pushed her back toward her seat, but Brett resisted. She wanted out. Now.

“Please, ma’am. We need to check you out.”

Brett pushed past him. “I’m fine.” She was, for the most part. She leaned against her car and surveyed the damage. Her car, on the other hand, was not fine and would need to be towed. She looked all around, but Paulson was nowhere in sight. Two Dallas police officers were walking toward her. She wanted to leave, but knew she couldn’t without giving them her version of what happened, or at least what she thought had happened. She figured Paulson must have struck her car and pushed her into another vehicle, then fled the scene when she realized police and emergency personnel were on route. As the officers came closer, Brett tried to formulate a story that didn’t involve explaining why Paulson had been chasing her in the first place. The real version wasn’t something she wanted to get into with a couple patrol cops on the side of the road.

“Ma’am, are you Brett Logan?” An officer with sergeant stripes on his shoulder spoke first.

Brett resisted the urge to snap at him. She was tired of all being called ma’am.
Wait a minute; how did he know my name?
Was this one of the cops Ryan had called? She started to answer him, then another thought struck her. Maybe this guy was one of Paulson’s pals. Brett began to slowly back away and bumped into someone standing behind her. She started at the contact, but before she could move away, strong arms encircled hers, and a familiar voice whispered, “It’s me.”

Brett turned to face the speaker. “Ryan, thank god it’s you.” Brett’s previous anger dissolved into gratitude, solace, and anticipation.

Ryan looked deep into Brett’s eyes, eyes reflecting relief, excitement even. She hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of either of those expressions from Brett ever again. She didn’t want to break the connection, but they were standing on the side of road with other people all around. She leaned close. “Hold that thought.”