Mystery/Thriller Box Set

Mystery/Thriller Box Set

Linda S. Prather

Published by Linda Prather, 2016.

BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

Linda S. Prather

OTHER BOOKS BY

LINDA S PRATHER

The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery

Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery

Bet You Can’t…Find Me, A Catherine Mans Psychic Suspense

Eternal Beauty, A Catherine Mans Psychic Suspense

Helena’s Diary

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Dedicated to my wonderful family, whose support and love make writing much easier. Coby W. Fuson, Charles Prather, Jr. and Steven Robert Prather.

A special thank you going out to my content editor, Laura Koons, my line editor, Kelly Reed, and all the wonderful staff at Red Adept Editing for your persistence and hard work.

And last, but definitely not least, three wonderful people that keep me on track and my fingers on the keys, New York Times best selling author, M. A. Comley, Mum and Joyce Coomer.

Beyond A Reasonable Doubt

Linda S. Prather

Copyright © 2015 Linda S. Prather

Digital Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit your preferred ebook site and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entire coincidental.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

EPILOGUE

NOTE TO READER

PROLOGUE

Kamela examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She wasn’t showing yet, but she would soon, and she wanted Jordan out of prison before that happened. She fluffed her long blond hair before applying Jordan’s favorite pink lip gloss. She’d chosen the country club for her meeting with Olivia because it would be quieter on a weekday and because she’d met Jordan there. They’d planned their wedding on the hill overlooking the lake. Her gaze fell on her ringless finger. Instead, they’d been married in the prison chapel with two guards as witnesses.

She lifted her eyes, meeting her own gaze in the bathroom mirror as she spread her hands over her flat stomach. She was Mrs. Jordan Elkins, and she was carrying Jordan’s child. Nothing else mattered. She could live without the country club and the limousine, and although she’d grown up in Corpus Christi and had never imagined leaving it, she could live without that too, for Jordan.

Picking up her purse, she took a deep breath and headed for the dining room. Olivia loved Jordan as much as she did. She’d want him to be with his child.

Kamela scanned the dining room and moved quickly toward the table in the back. Olivia, thank you for meeting me.

The older woman stood and embraced her. You look absolutely beautiful, Kamela. Have you seen Jordan?

Kamela shook her head. I thought I might visit on Friday.

She waited until Olivia sat down before taking her seat. She smiled at her, studying the timeworn face, covered with thick makeup that—to all except the most perceptive eye—disguised green discoloration and subtle swelling. The judge was either getting careless with his beatings, or he’d gotten away with it for so long he felt invincible.

Kamela continued her assessment, noting the long sleeves of the Versace silk even though the weather was blistering outside. A delicate scarf was tied around her neck. Olivia Elkins was a beautiful woman, but the luster was gone from her eyes, the spark of life slowly fading.

Kamela, is something wrong?

She’d promised Jordan she’d protect his mother as best she could, but the stakes had changed. Placing her napkin on the table, Kamela took the woman’s helpless, fluttering hands and held them tightly, her own hands trembling. Olivia expected an answer but perhaps not the one she was about to reveal.

I’m pregnant, Olivia. Jordan and I are going to have a child.

The color faded from Olivia’s already pale face, and her hazel eyes started, blinked, and settled on Kamela’s, questioning as Olivia pulled her hands away and shook her head. But that’s impossible. Jordan is in prison.

Kamela laughed. The sound carried in the room, and several guests glanced their way. She lowered her voice. Money buys many things, Olivia. You pay the guards to keep him safe; I pay them for private time alone with my husband.

Your husband?

We were married last year. We wanted to tell you, but Jordan thought we should wait. He was afraid it would make his father strike out at me.

Olivia’s mouth twitched, words forming slowly. Does he know?

No. I wanted to talk to you first before I told him. It would only hurt him to know I was pregnant and he wouldn’t be around to help raise our child.

Olivia nodded slowly, her hands settling around the crystal water goblet, gently wiping away the condensation like tears on a child’s face.

Kamela waited until the hazel eyes met hers, clear and determined.

What do you want me to do?

She hesitated for a moment and then sighed heavily. Jordan had refused to allow her father to help him, and Olivia was her only hope. We have to get him out. I want my child to have a father.

William will never allow it.

Kamela felt her anger rise, color flooding her face. William would have no choice if you told the truth. My father would help you. I know he would.

Kamela immediately regretted her words as the hazel eyes misted, tears threatening to overflow.

In the beginning, I tried to tell the truth.

I know; you did, Olivia. But we have to try again. Jordan only stole that gun to protect you. You know he would never hurt anyone. No one except his father.

Olivia, please talk to Michael. Tell him the truth. Show him what his father is really like—what he does to you when no one else is around.

A single tear made its way down the wrinkled cheek. Michael knows. Rising slowly, Olivia wiped her hands on the napkin, folded it, and placed it carefully on the table. Her lips trembled slightly as she smiled, but her hands were steady. We’re leaving for Kentucky tonight for the fall Keeneland meet. William is always happier there. I’ll talk to him.

Olivia, no. You can’t. He’ll... Kamela’s voice faltered as she watched in horrified silence as Olivia walked away from her, back straight, head held regally, kill you. Kamela finished the sentence, her voice barely a whisper, as a cold chill enveloped her.

CHAPTER ONE

Jenna scanned the courtroom, anxious to get started and get it over with. Closing arguments were the part of her job she loved the most, and the part she was good at. The evidence had all been presented to the jury. Next, the defense would weave their story, shining a different light on the proof and twisting testimony in the hopes of creating doubt. All they needed was one juror. Her job was to make sure they didn’t get that—to close all loopholes and leave the jury with only one choice: Travello was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. She’d practiced her closing argument, and she was ready.

Her gaze fell on Aran Travello. He grinned at her, causing a deep, nagging feeling to gnaw at her gut. She shook it off. The evidence was all in her favor. No jury in its right mind would find him innocent.

Grant Benson slid into the seat beside her and handed her a file. Here’s the PSIR.

Jenna scanned the presentencing investigation report, her eyebrows knitting together. Travello’s previous crimes included everything but murder, and most of the crimes were nonviolent. Damn it, there has to be more, something everyone missed.

Grant smiled, showing even, white teeth. Patience, you’re showing your true colors.

Jenna laughed and closed the file. Her father had wanted to name her Impatience, but her mother had balked. Two months early and weighing only two pounds, Jenna Patience James had burst into the world with gusto, screaming and kicking and fighting for life—just as she’d been doing ever since.

A quiet hush fell over the courtroom. Jenna turned, watching as Conrad Merced sashayed through the doors. She heard the quick intake of Grant’s breath as a blinding pain started just behind her right eye.

What the hell is he doing here? she whispered. There’s no damn way Travello could afford to hire him.

Jenna rubbed her right temple, soothing the pain as she continued to watch Conrad stroll down the aisle. He always reminded her of a clown, dressed in a dark-blue Armani suit, bright-red bowtie that matched his flaming-red hair and, of course, his trademark white shoes. Travello couldn’t even afford the shoe shine.

Grant shrugged and stood up. Don’t worry about it. I’d say you’ve got this one in the bag, even with Merced on his side.

Jenna raised an eyebrow. Grant was the new law clerk at the DA’s office and had yet to try his first case. He had no clue just how many things could go wrong in a trial, especially a trial with Merced. His confidence in her ability wasn’t exactly comforting.

Jenna continued to rub her temple as she slipped her feet into her three-inch heels, which gave her a respectable five-foot-five-inch height. Going up against Merced, even that felt short. Why hadn’t Michael told her Merced was entering the case? She glanced to the back of the courtroom, and he shrugged, his lips lifting in a sympathetic smile.

Merced stopped at the prosecutor’s table and dropped a motion in front of her. There’s been a slight change in Mr. Travello’s representation. I’ll be doing closing arguments. I hope you won’t object as I’d hate to see a mistrial called on a technicality.

Jenna glanced at the motion. Merced knew damn well she wanted to object. Under other circumstances, she would have objected. Conrad Merced had never lost a case. Well, today wasn’t going to be his lucky day. Pasting on her sweetest smile, she met the stony black gaze. No objection, Counselor.

She took some pleasure in the knitting of his bushy brows as the bailiff entered the room.

All rise. Judge Raymond Carter presiding.

Jenna continued to smile as she stood. Merced was known for his courtroom drama, but Carter would squash him like a bug if he started that.

Counsel, approach the bench, please.

Jenna held her smile as she stood before the bench, meeting the judge’s sympathetic look. Damn him, he’d buried her already.

Miss James, I have a copy of Mr. Merced’s motion, do you have any objections?

No objections, Your Honor.

Carter eyed them both over his glasses. All right, Counsel, you may proceed with closing arguments. Mr. Merced, there will be none of your usual shenanigans.

Strictly by the book, Judge. If Miss James has no objections, defense will go first, alleviating the need for rebuttal by counsel.

Jenna eyed him warily. Clearly, he had something up his sleeve. No objections, Your Honor.

Jenna returned to her seat as Merced addressed the court. The gnawing feeling inside her gut grew to almost a physical pain as she listened to him go over the evidence, creating loopholes that could, if believed, create a reasonable doubt in the jury’s mind. Fortunately, the loopholes were minor, but Merced’s lack of courtroom drama and droning voice created a new fear inside her. Was he setting up an appeal defense for incompetent counsel?

Miss James?

Jenna stood and walked around the table.

Your Honor, Counsel, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you’ve heard the testimony. The evidence is clear and precise. Mr. Travello not only butchered but reveled in the death of a homeless immigrant. All for a bottle of cheap wine. She knew her blue eyes were flashing as she delivered condemning words with precision. She didn’t flutter or wave her hands at the exhibits. Instead, she gripped them as weapons, walking slowly in front of each juror as she met their eyes, dropping her voice and making it soft and sensuous. "Perhaps Mr. Travello thought no one would care. Ladies and gentlemen, I care. This was someone’s son. Someone’s father. Someone’s best friend."

~ ~ ~

Michael Elkins took his gaze from the jury for just a moment to admire the young woman delivering the scathing closing argument. She wasn’t as pretty as the women he normally dated, but she was cute, and eventually he would change the things he didn’t like. He studied the reddish brown hair surrounding a heart-shaped face and grinned. That would be his first change. His gaze traveled down the slender frame. The breasts were a little too small, but implants would take care of that. He sighed. Her legs had almost become a deal breaker. He liked them long and shapely. Unfortunately, there was little he could do about her height.

He shook his head as the jurors averted their eyes from the gory picture she held in her hands. She was one of the best prosecutors in the state of Texas, and in another year or two, she’d be the new district attorney. That made her valuable to his career, which was all that really mattered in a relationship.

Shrugging his shoulders, he met the gaze of his partner, Scott Harman, who had taken his place on the case when Jenna was assigned as prosecutor. Their relationship wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but there was no way he would risk his career for a lowlife like Travello. He’d known Travello was guilty the first time he talked to him. He didn’t need to stay to hear the jury’s verdict. Travello had lost the second she dropped her voice and whispered those soft words, someone’s son... someone’s father... someone’s best friend.

He turned his attention back to Jenna. She was going to be pissed that he hadn’t told her about Merced. Of course, he could feign ignorance. Scott had called him last night to tell him Merced was doing closing arguments. He hadn’t asked why. Truth be told, he didn’t care one way or the other. If Jenna won, he would take her for a celebration dinner. If she lost, he would console her.

Rising, he caught her eye as she returned to the prosecutor’s table to wait for Judge Carter to deliver the jury instructions, then to wait longer for the verdict and, if Travello was found guilty, sentencing. He caught her subtle wink, the slight lifting of the corners of her mouth.

Michael raised his hand, running his fingers through his thick, blond hair in a silent salute as he headed for the courtroom door to answer the cell phone that had been vibrating incessantly for more than five minutes.

He cleared security, heading for fresh air and a much-needed cigarette before he returned the call. The Honorable William Jefferson Elkins had summoned—six times. He wasn’t going to be happy about Michael’s refusal to answer the phone, even if he had been in court. Lighting a cigarette, he took a deep drag and scowled. His father hadn’t called him in over six months, and now he’d called six times in the space of a half hour. Hitting the Redial button, he threw the unfinished cigarette into the street.

Hello.

Maria, it’s Michael. My father has been trying to reach me.

The silence on the phone was deafening, and Michael felt the first tremors of foreboding.

Hold, please. The words were whispered with an underlying note of compassion and pain.

Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours! Judge Elkins bellowed into the receiver.

I’ve been in court, Dad. Michael didn’t bother to correct him that it had been only a half hour. No one ever corrected Judge Elkins—at least, no one that still had a bar license.

There’s been an accident. Anger still riddled the old man’s voice. Your mother’s dead.

CHAPTER TWO

Time passed. The jury filed by him, glancing at Michael as he leaned against the courthouse wall as if he no longer had the strength to stand.

He drew in a ragged breath, his chest constricted and painful. Your mother’s dead. The old man had delivered the words with the same unfeeling drone as the sentences he handed down from the bench. Cold, unfeeling bastard. Only the underlying anger had revealed he was capable of emotion. The sad part was he was probably angrier at missing Keeneland than at the passing of his wife.

Michael? Jenna laid her hand on his white knuckles, tightly gripping the cell phone. What’s wrong?

He blinked, staring into her deep blue eyes, eyes that only hours before had widened in passion. Now, they were dark, filled with concern. From the corner of his eye, he could see the press converging. He had to get out of there. The old saying, The truth will set you free, was a bad lie. If the truth came out, it would end his career and his relationship with Jenna.

Pushing away from the building, he shook off her hand, ignoring the pain that flickered for just a second in the blue depths of her eyes. I have to go.

Michael, wait. Go where? Jenna held her hand up to the press, staving them off for one more second.

He turned, smiled wistfully, and shook his head at the converging press. Enjoy your win. I’ll tell you later.

Miss James! Are you disappointed that you didn’t get the death penalty?

Will there be an appeal?

Questions fired at her from all directions, and Jenna pasted on a smile that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes. The jury had barely left the room before returning with a unanimous guilty verdict. Normally, sentencing would have taken place several weeks later, and she would have had time to prepare for their questions, but Judge Carter was retiring and wanted to finish this case before he left the bench, so sentencing had commenced immediately after the verdict.

Yes, I am disappointed that we didn’t get a death penalty, and no, I don’t believe there will be an appeal. Aran Travello can consider himself lucky with life without parole. Her eyes followed Michael’s back as he crossed streets, moving quickly out of her line of sight. She needed to end this and go after him.

Was it difficult for you to prosecute this case, Miss James?

Jenna scanned the crowd until she found the face behind the voice. He was older than the other reporters and more unkempt. Hatred lashed out at her from the beady black eyes. He sneered, his mouth twisting, voice lowering. Or did you enjoy it?

I’m sorry, I don’t understand your question.

He moved forward through the crowd, dark eyes never leaving her face. The sneer widened as he came closer. It must have been hard to prosecute the killer of a homeless immigrant.

Jenna felt the color drain from her face, the slight tremble of her hands. I’m sorry, I don’t have time for any more questions today. She moved away from the crowd, eyes glued to the green light as she prayed for it to change.

He followed her, his voice triumphant. But Miss James, isn’t it true that your parents were butchered by an immigrant worker twenty years ago? Could that be why you didn’t push harder for the death penalty?

The remaining journalists, even those who knew and liked her, were gathering round him, voices clamoring to be heard over the sounds of traffic.

Is that true, Miss James?

Did you let Aran Travello off easy?

Jenna stood for a moment, hands clasped tightly around her briefcase, back straight. The light changed to red, and the small sign signaled it was safe to walk. She wanted to scream at them. Instead, she waited until the sign flickered that time was almost up. She nodded a silent plea to the patrolman at the corner and, without glancing back, dashed across the street.

CHAPTER THREE

Rage had replaced his anger by the time Michael made it to the apartment. The son of a bitch! All he thought about was himself. He knew Michael was intending to announce his candidacy in three months. Now he’d be stuck for God-knows-how-long cleaning up another one of his father’s messes.

He poured a glass of scotch and downed it. And what the hell had his mother done that time to incur the old man’s wrath? His hand clenched the glass. She’d probably spouted off about something that wasn’t any of her business, just like every time before. He’d told her over and over again to keep her mouth shut and stay in her place.

He poured another shot and downed it quickly. He’d have to clear his schedule at the office, fly to Kentucky, and make arrangements to have his mother’s body brought back here.

Damn you! He threw the glass against the wall just as the apartment door opened.

Michael! Jenna covered her face as pieces of shattered glass pelted her.

Oh, God, Jenna, I’m sorry. Are you all right? He removed her hands from her face, running his fingers through her hair and over her arms and neck. Are you cut?

I don’t think so. Jenna pushed back from him, noting the lines of strain around his mouth and eyes.

Michael, what’s wrong?

Dropping his hands to his sides, he shook his head. It’s my mother. She’s dead.

Jenna reached out, pulling him into her arms. What happened?

He pushed her away, reaching for another glass and the scotch decanter. My father just said there was an accident. I don’t know yet. He wants me on a plane to Kentucky immediately.

What can I do? she asked. How can I help you?

Michael kept his back to her as the scotch kicked in, placating his tattered nerves and easing the rage inside. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Public sympathy would be on his side—and he’d have the inheritance. He wouldn’t have to worry about begging for campaign funds. He needed to think fast. Jenna would start asking questions soon, and he wasn’t prepared to answer them yet. A small smile played around his lips. A mother’s death was supposed to be a horrible thing, but in that case, it just might be a blessing in disguise.

Turning, he pulled her close, enjoying the comfort of her arms, the tangy smell of her perfume, the softness of her touch. All he had to do was keep her close for a little longer. Dad’s planned a small service in Kentucky this evening, and then we’re flying back with the body tomorrow.

But... Jenna pulled back from him. But Michael, he can’t do that. I mean, there’s no way. Even with an accident, there’ll be an autopsy. You can’t just go pick up the body and fly back. Not even Judge Elkins has that much power. And what about your brother?

Michael flopped down on the couch. When one started telling lies, one had to keep it up. Unfortunately, he’d chosen the wrong lie. Still, the best defense was a good offense. He needed to change the subject, keep her off guard. He homed in on Jordan. What about Jordan? He made his choice. Besides, I don’t even have time to tell him. Dad’s having the service in Kentucky tonight at six. We’re flying back tomorrow, with interment here tomorrow evening at nine. I’ve got to clear my schedule at the office, and if I can catch a plane, I’ll just make it for the service. I’ll have to call Jordan when I get back.

Jenna crossed to the closet, pulled out his suitcase, and began packing clothes for him. Michael’s words had sparked something deep inside her, something she didn’t want to look too closely at just yet. She couldn’t believe the callousness of a father that would deny his son the right to say goodbye to his mother. She’d met Judge Elkins only once, and that meeting had left a bad taste in her mouth.

She was seeing something similar in Michael, an insensitivity she’d noticed more and more lately. It was one of the things that had made her want to end the relationship. She’d see him through his mother’s death, and then the two of them would have to talk.

Jenna closed the suitcase, picked up the phone, and called the airport. She jotted down the pertinent information, hung up, and then called a cab. If he left now, he’d have just enough time.

Michael had not moved.

Kneeling before him, she placed her hands on his knees, forcing him to look at her. You’re going to your mother’s service. I’ll take care of your office and Jordan.

His face hardened for just a moment, his eyes flashing something she didn’t understand, but it pushed her away from him.

He reached out and pulled her back, gently touching her face. I’m sorry, sweetheart. This whole thing has me shook up. Did I ever tell you I love you?

Jenna flinched. Something about the way he touched her and the way he said I love you made her feel cheap and dirty. Recovering quickly, she pasted on a smile and stood up. No, but we’ll have plenty of time to talk about that later.

He rose. I’ve got to call the office.

I’ll do it. The cab should be downstairs, and you have just enough time to get to the airport.

Michael nodded, grabbed the suitcase, and kissed her lightly. About Jordan...

Jenna pushed him toward the door. Don’t worry about it. I can handle it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jenna stood staring at the closed door for a long time, her mind numb from the morning’s events. At first, she’d thought she was imagining things, but Michael really was different. Of course, she’d been flattered when he’d asked her out. He was one of Corpus Christi’s most eligible bachelors and, if the rumors were true, the legal community’s next golden boy. So, when had his jokes stopped being funny and his lovemaking stopped being passionate and tender? When had he stopped listening when she talked about a case she wanted desperately to win? He was a defense attorney, but he’d seemed sensitive to her victims’ plights. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She should have ended it the previous month. That’s when she realized it was over for her and when she’d realized Michael wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.

The conversation played through her mind. They’d just made love, and she was telling him about her latest rape case.

He beat her and raped her. What’s wrong with a man like that?

Michael had rolled over, turning his back to her and commenting, She’s just a whore, Jenna, she probably got what she deserved.

Jenna sighed heavily. She’d known that night she could never love a man that believed a woman could ever deserve to be beaten or raped. She’d spent more and more time at the office, using her job as an excuse not to go out with him.

Damn it, Jenna Patience James, you should have gotten out of that bed and walked away right then. Then you wouldn’t be in this mess.

Maybe she was just too sensitive about the trial and carrying her misgivings over into her personal relationship. The journalist’s question had caught her off guard and made her question her own motives. Had she been soft on Travello? His rap sheet was twenty pages long, but all his previous crimes had been nonviolent. She’d taken that into consideration, as had Judge Carter. She’d asked for the death penalty only because of the severity of the crime. Travello had killed the man slowly with a knife. He’d butchered and mutilated the body beyond recognition. In her opinion, he deserved the death penalty for the crime, but he had fallen short of the Texas definition of capital murder. She’d known as soon as she looked at the presentencing investigation she was going to lose the death penalty.

Her cell phone vibrated again, and she glanced at the number and grimaced. Damn it. David had already called three times. She couldn’t put him off forever. By now he would have heard the rumors, and she knew what was coming. It wouldn’t matter to David Garcia that she’d put in between sixty and eighty hours a week for the last five years while being paid for less than forty. It wouldn’t matter that her conviction rate was the highest of any assistant DA in the history of the office. And it wouldn’t matter that, until she’d started dating Michael six months ago, she’d totally put her personal life on hold to pursue her career. The hell with it. She punched in the office number.

Sarah, it’s Jenna. Put me through to David.

He’s like a caged lion, Jenna. What happened?

Jenna sighed. It had been too much to hope that her past would stay forever buried. She’d actually done nothing wrong, but she should have recused herself from the case.

Just put me through to him.

Hello.

David...

What the hell were you thinking, Jenna? I’ve been on the phone with Judge Carter for the last half hour. He’s threatening to declare a mistrial.

That’s ridiculous, David. There was nothing inappropriate in how I handled the trial or the sentencing. Look at the PSIR. Travello had no priors for violence. I couldn’t get the death penalty no matter how hard I argued for it.

Were your parents killed by a homeless immigrant?

Yes, but...

She could almost hear his seething anger on the other end of the phone. He’d take it as a personal affront that she hadn’t told him about her parents and recused herself from Travello’s case.

You know as well as I do, Jenna, it doesn’t have to be inappropriate. All it takes is the appearance of impropriety, and scumbags like Travello go free. I’m meeting with Judge Carter this afternoon. There’s been a rumor that the PSIR was tampered with and Travello has another murder and violent crimes on his record. The press is crucifying you and Carter. He’s agreed to issue a statement to the press in the morning. Either way, I think it best if you take some of that stored-up vacation you’ve been saving.

Jenna clutched the phone more tightly, not quite believing her ears. She hadn’t even seen the PSIR until right before court began that morning. But you knew something was wrong with it. A man with that many non-violent crimes doesn’t just suddenly butcher someone for a bottle of wine. You’re suspending me?

I’d rather not call it that. I’m asking you to take a week or two off and let this blow over.

David, that’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong. My parents were killed twenty years ago. I didn’t even think about that when this case started, and I’ve got too many cases on my desk to just walk away.

Grant can handle the minor stuff until you get back. I’ll handle the major ones.

David, don’t do this. I don’t care about the press and what they’re saying. I’ve got a rape case coming up. Grant can’t handle that, and you’re sick. You don’t need that stress. Please, let me do my job.

The silence on the line tightened her stomach muscles. He sighed, long and deep. Don’t make me suspend you, Jenna. Take your vacation, and we’ll fix this.

The sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver broke the numbness, threatening to unchain the emotions lying just beneath the surface of her composure.

Not yet. She’d promised Michael she’d take care of his office and Jordan, and Michael’s office had handled Travello’s defense. If the PSIR had been changed, then the odds were Merced or someone in that office had done it. The question was why. Travello was a nobody. She needed answers, and to get them, she’d need access to Michael’s office. If she ended the relationship, she might never find the truth.

Her mouth set in a thin line. She hadn’t had a vacation in five years. Once she’d taken care of Michael’s problems, she was also going to find a certain journalist and ask some serious questions.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jenna took a moment to catch her breath and jot down some notes. She glanced at the clock. Thank God the closing arguments, verdict, and sentencing had ended early and it was just one o’clock. Even with that, the day was moving too quickly. Clearing Michael’s calendar had taken much longer than necessary simply because his secretary was a nosy bitch. Instead of offering condolences for Michael’s loss, she’d been more interested in how Jenna felt about the trial. Rumors must have been flying fast.

She’d promised Michael she would deal with Jordan, but she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone and call the prison. How do you tell someone over the phone his mother is dead?

She crossed the room and flipped on Michael’s computer. If she were lucky, she’d be able to access Jordan’s file. She pulled up her court.net account and ran a search for Jordan Elkins. Within seconds, she had the complete record. She printed it out, grabbed the pages, and headed for the door. The bus ride to the prison would take at least an hour. She’d have plenty of time to read.

Jenna stared at the wire stretched along the top of the fence. Maximum security. Judge Elkins had taken no chances that his wayward son would escape. She’d been shocked at the sentence when she read the file and even more shocked to find that David Garcia had been the prosecutor. David knew she was dating Michael, but he’d never mentioned the fact that he knew the family.

Jordan Elkins had been nineteen, just starting college with a promising career in marine biology. And where were the psychiatric reports to back up Michael’s claim that Jordan was mentally unstable? He had no priors, so why had Jordan Elkins received a twenty-five-year sentence in a maximum security prison for threatening his father with a gun? At most, he should have gotten a ten-year sentence and then been eligible for parole in two years. The whole thing should have been handled as a domestic violence case, yet David had prosecuted him for threatening a federal judge. Jordan was probably lucky he didn’t get life without parole.

Jenna stood still as a female guard patted her down and searched her purse, taking apart her cell phone. She’d be lucky if it still worked when she left.

You can go on in.

Thank you. Jenna said.

The sound of the door clanging behind her sent cold chills down her spine. She was beginning to question her sanity in coming here. She didn’t even know Jordan, and he’d spent five years inside those walls. If he hadn’t been unstable when he came, he probably was now.

She followed the guard’s directions and entered a small visitation room. She sat down at a wooden table and clasped her hands, eyes closed as she prayed, Give me strength, Father.

I doubt he’ll hear you in here.

Jenna opened her eyes, shock and surprise widening them as she stared at the young man entering the room. A guard followed him in and closed the door behind him. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.

Standing, she held out her hand but pulled it back, her face flushing, as she noted his chains.

Jordan Elkins wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She’d thought he would resemble Michael, but nothing could have been further from the truth. They were, in fact, total opposites: light and dark. Jordan was at least six foot three, compared to Michael’s six feet. His hair was wavy midnight black, compared to Michael’s shocking blond. The only thing they had in common was the deep brown eyes, yet Jordan’s were still different, more copper colored than brown… and older, shadowed as if his eyes had seen things human eyes should never see.

I’m sure you didn’t come here just to admire my physique, so what can I do for you? Jordan grinned at her, flashing white teeth and the most adorable dimples she’d ever seen.

Get a grip, Jenna. This was no different from the courtroom. All she had to do was take control. I’m Jenna James, a friend of Michael’s.

His deep laugh stopped her again, and she clasped her hands together to stop the trembling.

Friends?

Jenna met the twinkling brown eyes, her jaw setting. Yes, friends.

Jordan sat down across from her and shrugged. "It’s hard to imagine Michael with a female friend, but if you say so."

Jenna stared at the table. She didn’t want to see his face or to be the cause of more shadows in eyes already clouded by years of pain. There’s been an accident, she started, her voice low.

Jordan leaned across the table.

It isn’t Michael. Jenna raised her head, meeting his concerned eyes, liquid pools of dark amber. She knew she had to finish, and quickly. It’s your mother, Jordan. There was an accident. She’s dead.

Jenna watched as a myriad of emotions crossed his handsome face. He pushed back from the table and stood up.

When?

I don’t know. Last night or this morning, I think.

Jordan stomped toward her, his anger a tangible thing, vibrating in the room as he slammed his hands down on the table.

The guard took a step toward them, but Jenna waved him off. It’s okay.

Where the hell is Michael? Why isn’t he here?

Jenna glanced at her watch. It was just four o’clock. He’s on his way to Kentucky to be with your father. Jenna struggled to find words to console him. He wanted to come, but there wasn’t time. Your father planned a service in Kentucky for this evening. He’s gone to the service. I guess after that, they’ll fly back here for the interment tomorrow evening at nine.

Jordan started to pace, chains clanking around his ankles and hands. You don’t really know my brother well, do you?

Jenna frowned. The truth was she really didn’t, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Jordan. Yes, I do. He wanted to come, Jordan. It’s just… your father needed him, and well, there wasn’t time. I’m sorry.

Jordan stopped pacing, turned, and studied her face, her eyes, and her trembling hands, clasped on the table. You’re still in the golden boy stage. He hasn’t given you the ‘woman’s place’ speech yet, has he?

He’d hit a nerve, one she’d been struggling with all day. I came here to tell you about your mother’s death. Let’s leave Michael out of it.

Get me out of here.

Jenna shook her head. Even if I could, there isn’t time. Maybe once they’re back from Kentucky, Michael can get you out before the final interment.

That’s never gonna happen, Miss James. Once the body leaves Kentucky, it will be destroyed by one of my father’s friends here. What if you had some help?

Jenna hesitated, afraid to give him hope. Maybe, but it would have to be pretty powerful help.

Jordan came back to the table and sat down. Call Kamela Beaumont. She can help.

Jenna tried not to show it, but she was truly impressed. You couldn’t work in Texas without feeling the political influence of Clifford Beaumont at some point in time. Are you talking about Clifford Beaumont’s daughter?

Jordan nodded.

She rolled the information around in her head, tossing ideas aside and plotting her opening argument. They have the governor’s ear and the president’s ear. It might work. She frowned and spread her hands. If she can help now, why hasn’t she gotten you a presidential pardon?

Because I asked her not to.

Jenna met his gaze searching for an answer she couldn’t find. The guard was approaching, and she knew her time was up. Even if she managed somehow to get him released and book a flight to Kentucky, they would be too late for the service. If they got there early enough in the morning, he could still see his mother and say goodbye before the casket was permanently closed. She was normally a good judge of character, and she liked Jordan Elkins. She didn’t know why he’d tried to kill his father, but just from the little she knew about Judge Elkins, he probably had a good reason. Reaching across the table, she covered his hands with hers. I don’t make promises I might not be able to keep. All I can say is I’ll do my best.

Jordan stood and gazed down at her. My father’s a bastard. He’ll do everything he can to stop you. Please don’t let him bury my mother without giving me a chance to say goodbye.

Jenna watched as the guard led him away. His plea at the end had touched her. She’d seen his anger, but he had it well under control. Michael was wrong about him—an image of Michael’s angry face flashed through her mind—and she’d been wrong about Michael.

CHAPTER SIX

The call to Kamela Beaumont had elicited shrieks, screams, and tears but had also resulted in a private limo picking her up to escort her to the Beaumont estate. She glanced at her watch. Was it really only seven o’clock? Leaning back into the comfortable leather, she closed her eyes, mentally checking off the events of the day. Vacations were supposed to be relaxing and fun. She felt like a ping-pong ball that had been swatted from one extreme situation to the next without any chance to relax in between, and if Beaumont could get Jordan released, she was looking at three or more hours at an airport and, depending on the flight, about five hours in the air.

The limo slowed, and Jenna opened her eyes in time to see the long, tree-lined driveway that would deliver her to the two-story mansion set among a backdrop of trees. She knew the Beaumonts had made their fortune through imports and exports in New York prior to moving to Texas. Beaumont was still highly involved in local unions. Rumor had it that he was part of an underground dock mob at one time, but no one had ever been able to prove it. One thing she did know—he wielded a lot of power, and if she wanted to keep her job, she needed to tread very carefully.

The limo stopped, and the driver came around to open her door.

Thank you, Jenna said, taking a moment to smooth down her skirt and readjust her jacket. She felt dirty and wished she’d had time to take a shower and change before coming. Her self-esteem was at an all-time low.

The door to the mansion was massive, and Jenna looked for a doorbell. Not finding one, she grabbed the huge knocker in the middle and banged it. It opened immediately, almost as if the maid had been patiently waiting on the other side to see if she would knock or go away.

Can I help you, ma’am?

Jenna James. I believe Mr. Beaumont is expecting me.

Follow me, please.

Jenna followed her through the formal sitting room and down a hall. She could hear loud voices coming from an open doorway. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

You’re asking me to believe William Elkins killed his wife, Kamela. That’s impossible.

You don’t understand, Dad. That’s the whole reason Jordan is in prison. He caught him beating her. He went crazy. That’s why he stole the gun. Later, Olivia told him that it had gone on for years, getting worse. Jordan begged her to leave him, but she was afraid—afraid he would hurt Jordan or Michael. He killed her. I know he did.

The maid glanced at Jenna before knocking on the doorjamb and sticking her head inside. Miss James has arrived, sir.

Clifford Beaumont ran a hand through his thinning grey hair and waved her off. Send her in.

Jenna once again wished she’d had time to change as his cool grey eyes flicked over her from head to toe. She knew what he was seeing. Her natural curls, which she’d spent over an hour straightening this morning, were starting to frizz, her makeup had been rubbed off hours before, and her suit was rumpled as if she’d slept in it. Way to make a great impression, Jenna.

Have a seat, Miss James. I’ll get to you in a minute.

Jenna sat on the edge of a leather chair, once again feeling small and insignificant. His I’ll get to you in a minute had caused a trickle of sweat to flow down the groove of her spine and her mouth to go dry. Maybe I should wait outside until you’re finished.

Beaumont ignored her comment, and she sat perfectly still as she observed the interplay between father and daughter. Clifford Beaumont was a big man, and Jenna had no problem believing the rumors she’d heard. Even wealth had not totally chipped away the roughness of the former dock worker. Only when his gaze touched his daughter did the chiseled features relax. The petite blonde barely came up to his shoulders.

He killed her because of me, Daddy. It’s my fault she’s dead.

Beaumont pulled his daughter into his arms and stroked her long blond hair. Shush, honey. It can’t be your fault.

Kamela pulled out of the embrace and mumbled between sobs. It is... I shouldn’t... have told... her. He’s going to hate me.

Beaumont’s face revealed nothing of his emotions as he pulled her back into his arms and gently rocked her back and forth. Shhh. It will be okay. We’ll fix it, honey.

Jenna had no doubt that Clifford Beaumont could fix anything he set his mind to. As an officer of the court, she only hoped she wasn’t about to witness a crime.

Beaumont continued to rock Kamela, shushing her sobs until finally there was nothing left but an occasional hiccup.

I’m pregnant, Daddy. I told Olivia. I wanted her to talk to the authorities, talk to Michael, help me get Jordan released. She got all strange looking. Said she was going to talk to William. He killed her, Daddy. He killed her because of me.

A pained expression crossed Beaumont’s face, but Jenna couldn’t tell if it was due to his daughter’s emotional pain or her revelation of the pregnancy.

All right. I’ll get Jordan released long enough to say goodbye to his mother. But the rest of this...

Kamela threw her arms around her father’s neck. Thank you, Daddy.

Beaumont turned to glare at Jenna. I’m having him released into your custody, Miss James, and I assure you I will hold you personally responsible if anything goes wrong.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat—just when she had thought things couldn’t get worse.

Yes, sir, she answered. I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Michael looked down at his mother’s body, her clothes damp with condensation from the bags of ice tossed haphazardly into the cheap packing crate around her. Deep purple bruises had developed on her face and neck. You really screwed up this time, you bastard. He heard the footsteps crossing the hallway and turned. How many people know about this?

Nobody except the maid, and she knows to keep her mouth shut. We’ll fly the body back to Texas, let it thaw out, and then call our friends at the police department and Burns at the funeral home. We have her cremated, and nobody is the wiser.

Michael sighed. I told Jenna we were having a service here tonight and then flying her back for interment there tomorrow night.

Judge Elkins’s face flushed red. You dumb shit, why the hell did you do that?

Michael turned his back on him. You can blame yourself for that, Dad. Maybe if you’d given me a heads-up yesterday instead of spending the day at Keeneland watching the races before you bothered to give me a call this morning, I could have been prepared. She was asking questions, talking about Jordan. I figured it was better to tell her something.

Michael turned back to his father, a placating smile pasted on his face. He didn’t have to worry about the judge’s rage this time. Without him, the old man would have to wallow in his own shit for a change. I’ll take care of it.

Elkins raised his fist and shook it at him. You better take care of it. You need to put a ring on that bitch’s finger as fast as you can.

Michael listened to his father’s footsteps as they stomped away. He glanced at his mother’s left hand. He reached in and twisted the finger until it popped and the engagement and wedding rings came off. He placed the lid back on the crate. His father was right. He needed to marry Jenna quickly, before she started thinking too much and asking more questions he couldn’t answer. Putting the rings in his pocket, he whistled and headed for the living room and a good stiff drink. Now that he had the rings, he could ask her to marry him as soon as he got back to Texas.

~~~

Jenna rubbed the handcuff strapped around her wrist, and glanced sideways at Jordan. Not very comfortable, are they?

Not really, Jordan said.

She turned her attention back to the passing clouds. Even with Beaumont’s help, it was after midnight before they’d finally cleared all the red tape and she’d been allowed to walk out handcuffed to Jordan. In less than three hours, they would be in Kentucky. She’d always wanted to go there, see the horse farms, and visit the castle—she had just never dreamed she’d be handcuffed to her lover’s brother.

Jordan tugged on the handcuffs. You look tired. Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I promise I won’t go anywhere.

We need to talk before we get there. Jenna turned away from the window and once again studied Jordan Elkins’s handsome features.

Jordan tugged on the handcuffs again, pulling her arm across the seat. As I said, I’m not going anywhere.

Jenna placed her jacket over their joined arms again and glanced around to see if anyone was looking. At least she’d had the good sense to take the jacket off before the guard handcuffed them, and the stewardess had put them in the back away from the majority of passengers. Stop tugging on my arm. I put my career and my life on the line to do this. I need you to promise that you aren’t going to do anything stupid.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. Such as?

Oh, attack your father. Make a scene. Try to escape.

He laughed softly. You’ve been a prosecutor too long.

Clifford Beaumont had you released into my custody, Jordan. It came with a warning. Anything goes wrong, he’s holding me personally responsible.

Jordan eyed her quizzically. You agreed to that?

It was the only way I could get you released in time. She smiled. Besides, I think Kamela would have had him beat me if I’d refused.

Jordan sat back, once again pulling her arm over the armrest as he stretched before leaning back in the seat.

Michael’s a lucky guy.

Jenna jerked on the handcuff, bringing her arm back across the chair. So are you. Keep it that way.

The mention of Michael made Jenna realize she hadn’t told him they were coming.

Damn, she whispered, rummaging in her purse for her cell phone.

Jordan opened one eye, grinned at her, and promptly closed it again.

She dialed the number and cursed again as she was immediately transferred to voice mail. Michael had his phone turned off. Of course, he could still have been asleep. She decided to leave a message and hope for the best.

Mike, it’s Jenna. I, uh… I got Jordan released. We have to change planes in Atlanta, so we should be arriving in Lexington about eight a.m. Can you meet us at the airport? Please call me as soon as you get this.

Closing the cell phone, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Tiredness washed over her. Twenty-four hours before, she had been an up-and-coming prosecutor. Someone to be dealt with. Today, she didn’t know what the hell she was doing or why she was doing it. She’d realized weeks before she wasn’t in love with Michael. She’d been lonely, tired of working all the time. Michael Elkins was handsome, rich, and she’d been flattered by his attention and impressed by the lifestyle he’d introduced her to. The sex had been great, too… at least in the beginning. Lately, even that was beginning to get stale. So why had she stayed with him? And why the hell was she on an airplane, handcuffed to his brother?

Jenna twisted in the seat, seeking a more comfortable position. She felt not only dirty and grungy but also shallow, having admitted the truth to herself.

You forgot to tell him you loved him. Jordan leaned across the seat to whisper the words in her ear.

What?

Jordan laughed softly. Michael. You forgot to tell him you loved him. If you do.

Jenna ignored the taunt. And you still haven’t promised not to do anything stupid, she reminded him.

Jordan laughed again. I think I’d like having you as a sister-in-law if my brother wasn’t such an ass.

Jordan?

If I promise, will you let me go to sleep? Jordan asked.

He was insufferable, but she could see why Kamela had fallen in love with him. Maybe.

Okay, I promise I will not leave your side while we’re in Kentucky.

Jenna pondered the promise as she listened to his even breathing. It hadn’t been exactly what she’d hoped for, but she figured it was the best she was going to get. Leaning back, she closed her eyes again, letting the gentle motion of the plane rock her to sleep.

~ ~ ~

Michael checked his phone and punched in the number for voice mail. Jenna’s message reopened the rage he’d been feeling since his father’s call. Damn her to hell.

William Elkins poured a cup of coffee and joined his son in front of the picture window overlooking the huge lawn.

Who are you damming to hell this early in the morning?

Jenna. She somehow got Jordan released, and they’re on their way to Kentucky. She wants me to pick them up at the airport at eight.

William snorted. See why you’re courting her if she’s got that kind of power. Of course, we can’t let them come here, so what are you going to do about it?

Michael glanced at his watch. They would be changing planes in Atlanta. If he was lucky, he had just enough time to get someone there. Crossing to the credenza he poured a cup of coffee. I’ll take care of it, but this is the last mess I’m cleaning up for you.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The jolt of the plane woke Jenna from an uneasy sleep. She felt Jordan’s eyes on her, turned, and grimaced as the plane jolted again. I hate flying.

Jordan didn’t answer but stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Have you met my father?

Jenna struggled up in the seat. She wanted a shower, a warm bed, and eight good hours of sleep.

Only once. He was the judge in a case I was prosecuting. He let the bastard out on bail. He was killed before we could get the matter to trial. She smothered a yawn. Michael has told me a lot about him.

Jordan’s laugh was a scratchy, ugly sound. Yeah, I bet he has.

Gone was the scathing, teasing personality. Facing her now was a man with dark, angry features, venom in his voice, and hatred in his eyes. She had no doubt Beaumont would blame her for anything that went wrong. If she wanted a career, she needed to control Jordan’s anger quickly before they landed. Let’s assume Michael didn’t tell me the truth. So why don’t you tell me about him?

Jordan turned, meeting her gaze. He studied her face for a long time before settling back in his seat. I’d rather tell you about my mother.

Jenna relaxed. That was probably a much safer topic. All right. Tell me about your mother.

Jenna watched as his posture softened, the shadows disappearing from his eyes for just a moment. "Mom was great, one of those sweet Southern ladies. She’d grown up with money, nannies, and parents that indulged her every wish. I think the first time my father hit her was over the nanny issue. She wanted to raise us herself, but he gave her the speech about a woman’s place being beside her husband. He had an image to uphold, and that meant she had to be at his beck and call when he wanted her.

She tried her best to live in both worlds: mother and wife of the notorious Judge William Elkins. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes she’d hide in her room for days until the bruises healed.

Jordan stopped talking, his eyes glazed with memories. Jenna watched as his hands clenched and unclenched. She needed to keep him talking, to cool the anger.

How did they meet? Jenna asked.

He relaxed slightly, his voice whimsical as he repeated the story his mother had told him. She met my father when she was eighteen, fresh out of school. He was handsome and charming. It wasn’t until after she married him she discovered his true nature. Most people think our money comes from him, but the truth is, mom was the one with money. Everything he has, everything we ever had, came from her family inheritance. The anger was coming back.

Listen, Jordan, I don’t care what you think of your father. I would probably agree with you that he’s a cold-hearted, mean bastard. But that’s not important right now. I did this so you could say goodbye to your mother. Clifford Beaumont did this so you could say goodbye to your mother. That’s what we’re going to do, and then we’re getting back on a plane, and you’re going back to serve your sentence. Is that understood?

Jordan glanced at her, a hint of admiration in his dark-brown eyes. I bet you’re one hell of a prosecutor. Never lost a case, have you?

Jenna sat back in the seat, stunned. That was the second time he’d referred