Ties That Bind (25 page)

“Yeah, I work hard. It pays off.”

On the drive to his office, he talked about his Well Child Project.

“My sister’s into all that.” She told him about Phoebe, studying all over the world in music and movement therapy. “I’d like to see the room—what did you call it—the Zone, firsthand.”

“Come in with me then.”

She accompanied him into the building. Since they had office hours until noon on Saturday, only a few of the staff remained. He went back to the offices and she wandered into each area of the Zone. She was in the movement room when he came out. “All set?”

She smiled over at him. “Tyler, this is great.” She ran her hand along a barre. “I took some courses in dance therapy at Butler when I was there. And some workshops given here in Westwood.”

“Really?” His wheat-colored brows rose. He looked cool, in his Georgetown long-sleeved cotton shirt and black jeans. But he seemed confident and professional, too. “Want a job?”

She grinned. “No, I have one.” She looked over at a jungle-gym thing. “But I could volunteer a few hours a week. Phoebe would love it.”

“Hey, that would be great.” He squeezed her arm, this time not letting go. “You’re terrific, you know that?”

“Sure I am.” She smiled. “So are you. What the hell’s wrong with Reese and Kate that they don’t see that as clearly as we do?”

He chuckled. Then turned serious. “Actually I think they see it. I also think they’re genuinely trying to work this out. For us, as couples.”

“Maybe,” she said as they went out to the car. “I don’t hold a lot of hope for it.”

Once they were on their way, he said, “It’s hard to watch them together, isn’t it? They don’t even realize how they gravitate toward each other.”

“They touch, unconsciously.”

“Maybe this is futile. Not to mention demoralizing. I feel like a jerk.”

“So do I.”

He headed to the sub shop. “But, as you said, what do we have to lose?”

o0o

“GOT ANY BEER?” Reese asked Kate when he finished the file he was working on. “The kids” had been gone about ten minutes.

“Yep.” She stood and arched her back. “Let’s go out to the kitchen.”

He followed her, blanking his mind, which was cluttered with cases, and tension and plain old confusion. She got them two Coronas, and squeezed lime into each. Sipping the beer, he leaned against a counter, and she butted up against the one facing him. “So,” he finally said. “How’d the morning go, do you think?”

“Awkward, tense, stupid, like you said it would be.” She sipped. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

He peeled the label off his bottle. Without looking at her he said, “It’s the other stuff that’s harder for me.”

She watched him as she drank. “It’s why I didn’t want to go through those old files.”

“I can’t help but remember, in 3-D Technicolor, what went on that last year between us.”

“God, it was so up and down. One minute we were screaming at each other and the next, we were clawing at each other in bed.”

“I was thinking about the Smith case.” He sighed. “And how we made love that night.”

Shaking her head, she sighed, too. “We were both overwrought.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t happy. “We used to make love every time one of us was overwrought.” Setting his beer down, he pushed away from the counter and crossed to her. He reached out and brushed a fingertip down the inside of her collar. “What did he say about this?” Even to his own ears, his voice was lover-like.

“He flipped, as you might expect.” She shook her head. “What about Dray? Did she see the telltale evidence?”

“Teeth marks on my shoulder.” He rubbed the spot. “They’re still there.”

“What were we thinking, Reese?”

“We weren’t. Thinking.”

“I’m scared.”

He scowled. “Of me?”

“No, of us together. That’s why I came up with this desperate scheme. I’m scared we’ll hurt each other again and Tyler and Dray, and worse, hurt Sofie even more in the process. You know she can’t handle much wavering on our part. We can’t give her false hope.”

Backing away, he went to stand by the window, looking out at her sterile yard. “I know we have to do this for Sofie. “ He turned around. “So, maybe I was wrong. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad idea.”

“Maybe.”

o0o

ONCE AGAIN, KATE doubted that bringing the four of them together today was a good idea when she watched Dray and Reese together over lunch; she was totally stunned at her own reaction to seeing them interact. She cringed inwardly as Reese broke off a piece of his meatball sub and gave it to Dray. Apparently America’s Sweetheart didn’t eat meat, but cheated once in a while. The intimacy of the gesture, automatic and tender, hurt to watch. As did the unconscious way she petted him—a hand on his arm, leaning into him, brushing fingertips down his back. Every single gesture stung. It was then that it hit Kate: Even now, if they managed to stay away from each other, she was going to get hurt by Reese Bishop again. Big time.

Tyler, who’d gotten up to get her some water, set the bottles down next to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re tense.” He began to rub there.

She closed her eyes. “That feels good.” When she opened them, she caught sight of Reese staring at them. Oh, shit. His feelings mirrored hers: It was torture watching someone else care for each of them. A bottomless sense of loss flooded her. She shook her head, moved in her seat to ease it.

Finally Reese asked, “We ready to get back to work?”

The afternoon was just as grueling as the morning. Tyler and Dray found an interesting case where a girl was charged with robbery but contended she was just along for the ride. Kate had tried to convince the jury of that, but the law was clear. It was a Class B felony to be in the car with someone who committed the crime. The girl’s mother had raged at Reese and Kate for not doing more to help her daughter.

Kate herself found a case on drug possession. A group of college boys were arrested when the police stopped them and found almost an ounce of cocaine in the trunk. Everybody in the car had been charged with a B felony, and had gotten one to three years in jail. She scrutinized the file.

“Reese, look at this.” She edged in close so they could both see it. “Harry Jones’s father was furious at us because we couldn’t get his son off scot-free. We managed a reduced sentence and some probation. He was worried his kid wouldn’t get into Harvard.”

“He didn’t, did he?”

Kate pulled out a newspaper article. “Nope. Yolanda must have clipped this.” The kid had gone to SUNY Brockport, dropped out and had other run-ins with the law. “Think Harry, Sr., blames us? Would he come after us?”

“Who knows?”

“Kaitlyn!” She looked up to see Tyler coming toward them. He handed her a file. “Look at this.”

She opened it and Reese read it over her shoulder. “Shit, the garage mugger. I’d forgotten.”

“How could you forget that?” Tyler asked. “You defended him on charges exactly like your own assault.”

Reese bristled next to her. “She forgot because we got him off. He’d have no grudge against her.”

Now Tyler bristled. “I don’t care about that. It’s too similar to what happened to her the other night. Some of the details are the same.”

“I don’t think it’s relevant.” Reese’s tone was condescending.

Hell, now they were having a pissing contest.

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop it you two.” This from across the room, from Dray. “Reese, just give it to the police and investigator without arguing. Tyler, stop trying to one-up him.” She threw down her own folder. “As a matter of fact, I’m done with all this. We’ve pretty much exhausted these files, and quite frankly, I’m tired of the stress level in this room.”

“Well,” Kate said nastily, “Sorry if my career and reputation being on the line kicks up your stress level.”

Like an angry goddess, Dray strode over to Kate. “The stress I’m referring to has nothing to do with the Bingham case. And you damn well know it. Don’t try to treat me like some imbecile, Kate. I may be a jock, and not a judge, but anyone can see what’s going on here.”

Kate jutted out her chin. “You forget, today was my idea, to circumvent what’s going on here.”

Dray cocked her head. “Then maybe you’re the imbecile.” She looked to Reese. “Can we go?”

He glanced down. “We haven’t even touched the probation violations or the DUI’s yet.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s only three.”

Dray’s whole body seemed to sag into itself. “I see.” She faced Tyler. Something passed between them.

He said, “I’m done here, too. I’ve had about all I can take watching you two together.” He said to Dray, “Let’s go.” On his way out, he glared at Kate. “This really was a stupid idea.”

Kate watched them leave; Reese also gawked as they exited. When the door shut, none too softly, she turned to him. “Well, here we are, hotshot, alone again.”

AT FOUR ON Wednesday afternoon, Reese studied the kid across from him. Mitchell Crane was a slight, stoop-shouldered, pimply-faced boy who, one ordinary morning, after months of harassment, had brought a small handgun into school and shot one of his tormentors in the gym locker room. He’d inflicted only a small flesh wound to the shoulder, but the consequences were dire. The case would go to trial soon, and so far, Reese wasn’t feeling good about getting the kid a light sentence. He caught the eye of Greg Abbott, the thirty-five-year-old lawyer from his firm, whom he’d asked to be on this case with him because Greg was dynamite with kids. Reese nodded for his associate to take the reins.

“Mitchell, we’re going to need more from you than what you’ve given us.” Greg held up his notes. “The boy you shot was one of three who stuffed you in a locker, tripped you in the hall and repeatedly dumped your lunch tray. Can you think of anything else that might help us—something more threatening?”

Mitchell Crane pressed his glasses into the bridge of his nose. “I dunno.”

Abbott leaned over. “Think about why you took action on that particular day. Where you were? What was happening? Or maybe something happened on the day before that precipitated what you did.”

“Oh, yeah. We had swimming. I hated swimming because they always did stuff to me in the pool.”

Calmly, though this could be big, Greg asked, “What did they do in the pool?”

“They used to hold me under water. One of them would distract the teacher and the other two would dunk me.” The kid got tears in his eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I had to do something. “

Reese’s phone beeped, startling him. He nodded to Abbott. “Go ahead, Greg. Get this testimony. Tape it so I can hear it later.”

Excusing himself, he left the room, pleased as hell at this new information. It would be a godsend for the defense if the kid’s life had been endangered. “Bishop here,” he said, catching the call on the third ring.

“Mr. Bishop. This is Lauren Evans from Longshore.”

“Warden Evans.” His heartbeat escalated. The Anna Bingham case was not going well, nor was Reese’s personal life. He and Kate needed a break.

“I have some good news, I think, for you.”

Thank you Lord. “We could use some.”

“We found the journal your wife called me about.” After the visit with Nancy Bingham, Kate had phoned the prison to inquire about the missing journal. Warden Evans had said she’d check into it.

“That is good news.”

“For you maybe. Not the prison. Apparently, the journal was confiscated by a guard, Nell Sorenson, who gathered Bingham’s personal effects, ostensibly because some of them were contraband. But our employee never reported finding a journal. We discovered it in her—the guard’s—locker.”

“Why is that the bad news for the prison?”

“The locker was abandoned, and Sorenson quit, abruptly. I can’t reach her by phone.”

“Ah, the plot thickens.”

“My thoughts exactly. In any event, I called the New Jersey police, and they weren’t particularly interested in a prisoner’s journal. The case is closed as far as they’re concerned. Then I called Nancy Bingham, who told me to give it to you. That’s what she’d do, anyway.”

“Warden, I can’t tell you what this means to us. Have you read it?”

“No, but I will. You can come and get it ASAP, if you want.”

“Can I send someone?”

“I’m afraid not. You or your wife has to collect it. Nancy Bingham gave me permission to turn it over only to either of you.”

Reese didn’t correct her use of the term wife. “One of us will be there.” He checked his watch. “By what time?”

“I’ll be staying till six.”

He’d have to leave Westwood before four. This was a problem. They had depositions to take from other witnesses in the Crane case. “See you by then.”

Clicking off, he punched in Kate’s cell phone number. Maybe she could drive up and get it. He’d rather they go together, but that probably wouldn’t be such a good idea because of Tyler and Dray. Though Kate had told him Sloan left yesterday for a conference in Cancun, where she was joining him on Friday.

Cancun. He hated the thought of her going away with the guy. After the fiasco Saturday, both of them had managed to soothe ruffled feathers. This little jaunt to Cancun was supposed to be makeup time for Kate and her man. As was Reese’s trip to New York with Dray to attend her sister’s wedding. Which he wasn’t looking forward to. Things were unbelievably strained between him and Dray. He wondered if the same was true for Kate and Sloan. He didn’t know, because he and Kate hadn’t worked together on the files this week. They had split up what was left and reviewed them alone, and had planned to meet about them later today.

Surprisingly, he got Kate on the phone. Her voice came across the lines, exasperated.

“Kate, it’s Reese. I didn’t expect you to answer.”

“I’m on a break from the courtroom and the defense attorney from hell.”

He chuckled.

“What’s up?”

He explained about the journal.

“Wow. It’s about time we got a break.”

“My feeling exactly. But the warden will only turn it over to one of us. “

“Hmm. I’m in a hearing right now. If it goes the way it appears to be heading, I’ll be able to leave by four. If it gets more complicated, I’ll be tied up the rest of the day.”