Seth cornered her on the upper deck when she came out of the house after using the bathroom. Everyone else was at the pool. “Come sit, Red.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer redhaired. It’s auburn.”
He grinned. “Sitting around with the others, it takes me back is all, to when we were kids and it was flaming red.”
She smiled. “I’ve had the same thoughts here.”
“How’d it go after I left yesterday?”
“Badly. Similar to when we were in court. Both stubborn. Both throwing zingers. In some ways, I’m embarrassed by my behavior. In some ways, I want to clobber him over the head.”
He couldn’t help but laugh, then he sobered. “You can’t live with him still keeping secrets?”
“No. Not when he’s made such a big deal of this. Seth, I’m falling in love with him.”
“Wow, big admission. Did you tell him that?”
“No, I got too mad at him.” She closed her eyes. “I should have known this wouldn’t work.”
“You’re throwing in the towel on your relationship already?”
“Maybe I should before we get in deeper. We’ve only been close a few weeks.”
“Want some advice?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You’re already in deep. By your own admission. Hang in there.”
* * *
After another night of only a few hours of sleep, Paul was going crazy. He went for a long run, picked up the New York Times, got coffee and went back to his place. Sitting outside, he tried to read the paper. He got five minutes into the news and couldn’t stay still. Maybe he should call someone, a woman he dated off and on, the arrangement casual by mutual consent.
If I’m free, I’ll see you again.
What the hell do you mean if you’re free?
But he wasn’t up to a date. He didn’t want to be with anyone but Hayley. So he showered and got his car. Maybe he’d go out on the boat. But when he reached the marina, he couldn’t do that either. Being on board would remind him too much of her, of what they did down below deck.
He knew one thing that would take his mind off her.
He steered the car to Greenpoint, slowing going down Fourth Street. It looked like his family home was closed up, which was odd since the weather was so pleasant. He drove further, and came upon Lena’s house. Her place was beautifully landscaped in the front, but the whole side was left grassy. From where he was, he couldn’t see the back of her house, but even down here, he heard the noise.
He parked down a bit closer to the large side yard and saw a sprinkler had been set up with that yellow, slippery thing kids used to slide on when it got wet.
His heart clutched hard in his chest. It started to feel like a heart attack. Because before him were one, two, three…eight children. He’d rarely allowed himself to think about having nieces and nephews. And he’d never seen them on his incognito trips to the street. Now, he studied them. They were all different heights, mostly dark-haired, but a few were blondes. Some were small-framed, some large, but they all were sturdy. Then one came around the side, on crutches. Was he ill, or had he had an accident? Paul cringed when he realized he had no right to know.
But as they screeched at the cold water, slid down on their stomachs, called out to their cousins, Paul had to face the fact these cherished young ones lived only thirty minutes from him, and he’d never seen them. Never touched their down-like skin when they were born. Never smelled their baby shampoo. Never changed their diapers, or gone to a dance recital or school play or baseball game. His entire body ached with knowledge.
And one tear worked its way down his cheek.
Chapter 7
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we’re here today to right an unconscionable wrong. This couple, seated with our illustrious colleague at the defense table, is accused of Medicare fraud. They single-handedly cheated a government program out of hundreds of thousands of dollars.” Hayley cocked her head. “Those thousands of dollars are no longer available to you, each of you, when you turn sixty-five.” She saw a gray-haired man scowl. A young juror was wide-eyed. “Not only that, the Feinsteins insisted on dangerous surgeries for these vulnerable victims who sought their help with back pain that, according to experts we’ll bring in, could have been treated with medication. But their policy was to only prescribe that medication if the patients went through operations first.”
She turned and walked in front of the accused couple. These were the kind of people she despised. And Paul was defending them. “Mr. and Mrs. Feinstein have committed crimes against humanity and the prosecution is asking for reparations to each person they abused and twenty years in jail for their crimes.”
The woman gasped. Good.
“How could they do such a heinous thing?” she asked, crossing back to the jury. “Pure greed. Money gained by hurting others. They’ve betrayed—no, wait—stomped on their Hippocratic Oath, Do no harm, which every doctor swears to uphold. They deserve the maximum sentence.” She gave the jury a nod, walked close to the defense table, glared at the three people sitting there, then dropped down into her own chair.
The judge said, “Mr. Covington, are you ready with your opening remarks?”
“Very much so, after that.”
Judge Larson, a younger man recently appointed to the bench scowled at Paul. This was the first case he and Hayley argued as opposing counsel since their contempt charge. A different judge, but his expression was meant as a warning.
Paul walked to the jury box. His stride was long and masculine, his shoulders wide, his hair attractively tousled. If she was a female juror, she’d swoon.
But she wouldn’t swoon now. She’d fought all week to inure herself against him. She refused to talk about him to Seth
