“It all matches what Emily told us Thursday morning,” said Connor. “Her fingerprints on his desk.”
“They’re building a case against her,” Julia said.
“I think we need to turn what we have over to Will,” Dillon said.
“No,” Julia said emphatically. “As soon as we turn it over, we can’t follow up.”
“We’re already compromising the investigation,” Dillon said.
“Good. The judge can throw out evidence right and left and Iris Jones can get the case dismissed.”
“You’ll be disbarred.”
“Do you think I care?” Julia pushed her chair back, her hands on the table. “This is my niece! Someone is setting her up. I think it’s Bowen.”
“Why? He has no vendetta against her.”
“Maybe it’s not intentional. Maybe he’s leading this little group of his, turning disturbed kids into a bunch of vigilantes.”
“All the more reason for us to turn over the information to Will and let him get a warrant. And they want to formally interview Emily. They’re going to, sooner or later.”
“Not until after tomorrow night. Please, Dillon.” Julia turned to Connor, pleaded with him as well. “Let’s see what we can learn tomorrow at the fund-raiser. And I’m going to track down this Michelle O’Dell who was Ridge’s ex-girlfriend, see if she knows something more. Twenty-hour hours.”
“One more day,” Connor said. “If we can show doubt it’ll be much harder for Stanton to build a case. It’ll give us more time.”
Dillon relented. “I have no problem keeping Emily under medical observation. I can stand by my diagnosis. But you both need to know you can lose everything. Connor, you could lose your investigator’s license. Julia, the bar is unforgiving.”
“I know.” She turned to Connor. “You don’t have to help, Connor. I don’t want you to jeopardize your career.”
Connor stared at her, and she didn’t know what he was thinking. Finally, he said, “Dil, think Dad’s tux will fit me?”
“Might be a little tight.”
“Thank you,” Julia said, and sat down.
“I want to arrange for Will to interview Emily on Sunday. That’ll buy us time because they’ll see we’re cooperating. I can call Iris and have her set it up. That way it’s on our terms. And we’ll do it at the hospital.” Dillon looked at Julia. “Okay?”
She nodded. “These stacks are still huge.” She motioned to the files she’d copied. “We’ll be up half the night.”
“Do you have coffee?”
She shook her head. “I don’t cook. Sorry.”
“Coffee isn’t cooking.”
“I’m not home much.”
Dillon jumped up. “I saw a Starbucks down the hill. They’re probably still open. I’ll be right back.” With his departure, Julia and Connor were suddenly ill at ease.
Connor pulled Julia up from the table. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“Walk?”
“Stretch your legs. You’re tense.” He rubbed her shoulders as he ushered her out onto the porch.
“I’m worried, Connor. Emily’s so young and vulnerable.”
“Do you know her friend Wendy?”
“Sure. I’ve taken them to the movies, out for dinner. She’s a good kid.”
“Emily told Wendy about Victor.”
Julia shuddered, and Connor continued to rub her shoulders. Julia rested her forearms on the porch railing and looked out at the ocean. The sun had long set, only a glimmer of fading light remained on the horizon.
“My own niece didn’t trust me,” Julia said.
“I don’t think it had anything to do with trust. Not in the way you think about it.”
“Then in what way?”
Connor thought about that. He’d worked with troubled kids for so long-not sexually abused kids, like Emily, but kids from broken homes, from the inner city. Kids with little hope, who chose gang life and crime because that was the only hope they had to get out of poverty. Problem was, they usually ended up dead or in prison.
Kids like Billy Thompson, with the world seemingly against them, who worked hard to accomplish something only to have their dreams dashed because of one misguided, wrong adult. Connor had given Billy no reason to distrust him, but it had taken Connor more than a year to earn the teen’s respect and trust. Some kids never learned to trust anyone.
Julia hung her head. “I can’t help it, Connor. I should have dug deeper. I should have seen something!”
A tear slid down Julia’s cheek and Connor wiped it away with his finger. He tilted her chin up, forced her to look at him. Her sudden vulnerability hit him. Her bottomless green eyes filled with raw emotion and Connor’s heart flipped. He’d never seen Julia Chandler stripped so bare, so needy. He touched her full lips with his thumb, wiped away a lone tear at the corner of her mouth. She became a magnet and he moved closer, his chest touching hers, his lips only an inch from hers.
Connor kissed Julia.
Lightly. A feather of a kiss. A sign of support, of friendship.
He wanted to take Julia to bed.
He stepped back. His body wanted Julia Chandler. His mind said
Julia stared at him, confused, her face flushed. The vulnerability disappeared, but she wasn’t moving away. Wanting her was wrong. How could either of them forget everything that happened five years ago?
Something brushed between their legs and together, they looked down to see the orange-and-white tabby rubbing up against Julia. She smiled, bent down, and picked him up.
“Hi, Scruffy. Fits him, don’t you think? He must like you. He doesn’t usually come out from under the porch when people come over.”
Connor scratched between the cat’s ears. “We met earlier.”
“He was a stray, but…” Her voice trailed off. “A little boy, not more than six, had nearly kicked him to death. I saw and stopped it, brought him home, then tracked down the boy’s parents. You know serial killers often start by abusing animals?”
“So I’ve heard.” Connor gave her an odd half-smile, humorous but not ridiculing her.
She cleared her throat, stepped away from him. “Well, anyway, they didn’t seem to think it was as serious as I did. So I kept Scruffy.”
Headlights rounded the corner and Dillon pulled up next to the house. He got out of the car with a tray of coffee and a bag. “Dessert,” he said.
“Time to get back to work,” Connor said.
Dillon walked up the stairs. “I’ve been thinking about this. We’re going beyond the gray area. We need to be cautious. If Bowen is somehow involved, we can’t jeopardize his conviction with improprieties. We keep an eye on Bowen and play it by ear. Nothing bold.”
“I’m not going to jeopardize this case. We’re going to nail him,” Julia said.
“No Fourth Amendment for you, eh?” Connor joked.
“If I thought every defendant sitting across the courtroom from me was innocent, I wouldn’t be doing my job.”
“Bowen isn’t in a courtroom yet.”
It was three in the morning when they found a connection.
Having read Jason Ridge’s thin file three times, Julia almost missed it.
