ago.
He should never have kissed her, but she’d looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, so damn
It didn’t happen. The day after their kiss, the cold attorney Julia Chandler was back with a lose-lose ultimatum.
He’d wanted to resign so badly and screw her, screw the case. But the truth was he couldn’t see what would happen if he was tried for manslaughter. Even if he spent a day in jail, a cop behind bars was in jeopardy. He wasn’t willing to give his life to protect criminal bastards who contributed to the abuse of underage girls.
He couldn’t have been more shocked when Julia gave him the ultimatum. In the end, he did what they wanted and went back to work.
He’d tried to explain what would happen, but Julia refused to listen. She was so caught up in the rights and wrongs, she’d really had no idea what she was asking him to do.
The next six months were hell. The department was polarized. Ultimately, he resigned, refusing to be a lightning rod for controversy and anger anymore.
He shook the past from his mind. Five years was a long time, but remembering how he felt then brought back the old anger and resentment. Connor needed to put that aside so he could help clear Emily.
He heard the car’s approach before he saw it. The cat beside him scampered off toward the house. Instead of bounding up the stairs to the porch, the cat went through a small hole beneath the stairs.
Julia’s Volvo came into view. She parked outside of the detached garage and got out, looking at Connor’s truck, then looking around for him. She wasn’t in her attorney uniform. Instead, she was wearing a skirt similar to last night’s, a flowing number in spring colors, and a tight little lacy white pullover shirt. Her hair was down and the light breeze played with it. He stood and approached her.
“Where have you been?” he said, focusing on the fact that she wasn’t home when she was supposed to be, instead of how delicious she looked.
She frowned, her brows pulled in. “I didn’t realize you were my keeper.”
“You said you were coming straight here after the courthouse.”
“I made a detour.”
“And?”
“Let’s go inside.”
She led the way inside. She had three locks and a security system. “Scared of something?”
She shrugged. “Andrew Stanton suggested I get a security system after the Fione trial.”
“I don’t know that case.”
“It was over two years ago. Fione raped and killed three women in the bay area. We had DNA, two eyewitnesses, and he kept souvenirs-the victim’s underwear. We tried to plead it to life without parole thinking he’d go for it to save his life, but he refused to plead guilty, so we prosecuted special circumstances murder one and he got the death penalty. Of course, that costs us a hell of a lot more than the plea.” She sighed. “I think that’s why the bad guys go to trial, to cost us time and money. We had Fione easy.”
“So he’s away for life. Why the security?”
“He threatened me in court. I wasn’t scared of him, he was going to prison for the rest of his life, but Andrew thought since I was handling high-profile cases it would be prudent to have security.”
“Why are you shaking?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He touched her arm. She looked down, surprised that indeed she was trembling. “So what kind of threat did Fione make?”
“The usual. That he’d get out and cut my throat.” She tried for a light laugh, but it came out a squeak. “That’s water under the bridge, really. He’s never getting out. Might not see the end of a needle in my lifetime, but he’s secure in San Quentin.”
“But he scared you.”
“What he did to those women scared me and made me angry. He mutilated their bodies so badly they needed closed caskets. The second victim was discovered by her eight-year-old daughter. She didn’t even recognize her mother. It was awful.”
“Any more threats?”
“Here and there. I have a gun.”
“Great,” he muttered.
She glared at him. “I know how to use it. I went to safety training. I’m not stupid, Kincaid.”
“I never thought you were. But you don’t carry.”
“It’s for home protection. I’m safe at the courthouse. The security is tight.”
“There’s the parking garage, walking to lunch, driving home-”
She waved off his concerns and he couldn’t help but grin. This was the Julia Chandler he remembered. The know-it-all professional prosecutor.
“What did you find in the archives?” he asked, following Julia through the wide foyer, down a narrow hall to the bright, country-style kitchen in the rear of the house. A partially enclosed sunroom with skylights on the roof had been built off the kitchen. The view was incredible.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
She put her briefcase down on the kitchen table. “Can I get you something?”
“Whatever.”
She opened her refrigerator and stared. He looked over her shoulder. “It’s empty,” he said. “Have you been robbed?”
A laugh escaped before she could pull it back in. Connor was pleased that he’d made her chuckle. “I don’t eat here much.”
“Obviously.”
“But I have filtered water. And ice.” She pulled two glasses from a cabinet and pressed buttons on the door of the refrigerator for ice and water.
Connor picked up his cell phone. “Dillon’s on his way. I’m having him pick up some food or we’ll all starve.”
Julia didn’t know why she was nervous having Connor Kincaid in her house. Maybe because she’d been thinking about that kiss five years ago. Or maybe because she had unresolved guilt for what happened in the Suarez/Crutcher case and how it had affected him. But having Connor sitting at her kitchen table felt odd, so she started talking immediately about what she’d learned, just the facts, to see if he came to the same conclusion she had.
“You talked to Grace Simpson?” he asked, surprised.
“Off the record.”
“She’s a reporter. You can’t trust reporters.”
“I trust her on this.”
“She’s going to stab you in the back.”
“No, she’s not. Because I promised her an interview.”
Julia didn’t want to get into it. Grace had been hounding her for an interview since she’d become a reporter six years ago, why was a trust fund baby a civil servant, or some such nonsense.
“You know, I don’t
“Now can we get back to the business at hand?” Julia never felt comfortable talking about her family money.
“Jason Ridge.”
“Yes. He was a patient of Bowen and he ended up dead. So we have Paul Judson-who wronged Billy Thompson, a member of Wishlist-dead. We have Jason Ridge-a patient of Bowen-dead. And Victor Montgomery- who wronged Emily, a member of Wishlist-dead, too.”
