waiting for Jo.
“Winter Moon’s taking all this pretty calmly.”
“He’s had time to think things over.”
Gooding scratched the back of his head. “How’d you find him?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You convince him to come in?”
“That was his idea.”
Gooding nodded. “Sheriff’s on his way. We had some trouble tracking him down. He was at a swank dinner thing out at the Four Seasons. He’ll probably show up in a tux.”
“Nobody in Aurora wears a tux except to their wedding.”
Gooding smiled slightly. “Having Winter Moon in custody is such an occasion for Arne, I wouldn’t be surprised if he took the time to stop by home and put one on. He’s been taking a lot of grief for letting Winter Moon get away. But if he closes this case, he’s got his future wrapped up like a big, fat cigar.”
Cork leaned forward and clasped his hands. “Solemn didn’t do it.”
“Sure a lot of evidence that says otherwise.”
The front door opened and Jo walked in. She’d come in a hurry. She had on jeans and a gray sweatshirt. Her reading glasses were still propped on top of her head. She held Stevie by the hand. In the years when he’d have been old enough to remember, Stevie had never been in the sheriff’s office. His eyes were like two big, shiny chunks of coal as he took the place in.
“I didn’t have anybody to leave him with,” Jo said in response to Cork’s look of surprise. “The girls are at Sam’s Place, and Rose is at the rectory.”
“No problem,” Cork said. “Come on over and sit with me, Stevie.”
The moment Jo appeared, Randy Gooding had politely stood up. Stevie settled himself in the spot vacated by Gooding.
“Where’s Solemn?” Jo asked.
Gooding said, “We’ve got him in a holding cell at the moment. The sheriff hasn’t arrived yet.”
“Did anybody talk to him?”
“I read him his Miranda rights, but he’d already been strongly cautioned against making any statements without an attorney present.” Gooding cast a glance at Cork. “He was pleasant but he didn’t say anything.”
“I’d like to see him.”
“I’d rather you waited until the sheriff-”
Arne Soderberg swept through the front door. It wasn’t a tux he was wearing, but it was a dark blue suit that probably cost enough money for Cork to have damn near retired on it. The sheriff’s eyes quickly took in everyone in the waiting area, but he spoke only to Gooding.
“He’s in lockup?”
“Yes.”
“Question him yet?”
“He asked to have an attorney present.”
Soderberg looked at Jo. “Lost cause, counselor. County attorney says we’ve already got enough to nail him.”
“That’s what county attorneys are supposed to say,” Jo replied.
Soderberg finally deigned to speak to Cork. “You bring him in?”
“Solemn came in on his own. I just provided the transportation.”
“Fine.” Soderberg smiled and clapped Gooding on the shoulder. “Great day, Randy. Great day. Shall we go have a talk with Winter Moon?”
Soderberg and Gooding started toward the security door. Jo looked at Cork.
“I’ll stay here and keep Stevie company,” he told her. “You see to Solemn.”
Jo spoke quietly, but with great firmness. “I’m not taking his case, Cork. I’ll just see him through things until he can secure representation, that’s all.”
“He wants you to represent him.”
“That’s tough. He’s getting somebody else.”
“Try telling him that.”
Jo gave him a cold eye, but he knew it wasn’t even half the chilly look Solemn would get when he made his request.
“Where do they keep the bad guys?” Stevie asked once everyone had gone.
“Just because someone’s under arrest that doesn’t make him a bad guy. The police sometimes make mistakes, too.”
It was nearing his bedtime, and Stevie settled against his father and yawned. “Can I see the jail?”
“Not tonight.”
“Were you ever in jail?”
“Lots of times. But fortunately, I always had the key.” He tickled his son’s cheek.
Stevie laughed and pushed at his father’s hand. “Will Mom be long?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Stevie slid down, laid his body out along the bench and put his head on his father’s lap. Cork stroked his son’s hair. It was oily, in need of a shampoo. By the time they all got home that night, it would be too late for washing. Tomorrow would have to do.
“Solemn is a funny name,” Stevie said. He stared at the bright light in the ceiling, his dark eyes reflecting the glare. He seemed mesmerized. Or more likely, just tired.
“I suppose,” Cork said.
Stevie’s eyes continued to glaze over. In a few minutes, his eyelids began to droop under the weight of his weariness. He finally let them close.
It was almost an hour before Jo came out again. She walked slowly toward the bench where Cork sat cradling Stevie’s head in his lap. Her normally sharp blue eyes seemed dulled, a little bewildered.
“Are you okay?” Cork asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said.
“What happened?”
She spoke as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. “I agreed to take his case.”
A wind came up and blew all night long. Jo lay in bed next to Cork, listening to the trees groan and shiver, to the wind as it rushed through the leaves with a sound like floodwaters. The curtains did a frantic dance. Finally she got up and closed the bedroom windows. When she came back to bed, she said, “By morning all the lilac blossoms will be gone.”
Cork took her hand as she slid back under the covers. “How’re you doing?”
“Worried. I don’t think I’m the right person to help Solemn. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.”
“You haven’t had time to think about it much. I’m sure when you do, you’ll know the way.”
“The evidence is pretty damning.”
“Then why’d you take his case?”
Jo sucked in a long breath and shook her head. “I looked into those eyes and I couldn’t say no.”
“Something’s happened to him, there’s no doubt about it.”
Jo rolled to her side and studied Cork’s face. “Do you believe his story?”
“He believes his story. What I believe is that he didn’t kill Charlotte Kane, no matter what the evidence looks like. What about you?”
“I wish I knew what to think. About his story, his innocence.”
“You looked into his eyes, and you couldn’t say no. What does that tell you?”
“That I’m getting soft in my old age.” She laid her arm across his chest. “Oh, Cork, I don’t know how I can do this by myself. With the work I’m doing for my other clients, I already feel overwhelmed.”
“What do you need?”
She thought a moment. “Well, I suppose an investigator would help. Someone who can do interviews, and track down leads, and help me think about evidence and all the things I don’t know about a homicide case. I need you, Cork.”
