I'll Be Watching You Part 31

Reed jumped in before Jonathan could start raving again. "I want to talk to my client alone."

Hadman made a grand sweep with his arm. "By all means. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.

It'll be easier on everyone."

"Good idea." Olin glanced at his partner, then jerked his head toward the door. "Come on, Roy. I could use another cup of mud with half-and-half anyway."

"You're on." The two of them headed out. "You've got ten minutes," Hadman called over his shoulder.

Reed didn't waste a single one of them.

The instant the door shut behind Hadman and Olin, Reed pulled his chair over to Jonathan, gesturing for his client to put his b.u.t.t in his own. "Sit."

Jonathan complied, his breath coming in shallow pants. "This can't be happening."

"It is." Reed leaned forward until he was in Jonathan's face. "Look at me."

Again, Jonathan complied.

"Tell me what happened that night."

"I already told you everything."

"You were drunk. Maybe you forgot something."

Shock was eclipsed by anger, and Jonathan jolted upright in his seat, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. "Forgot something? You mean like raping Adrienne and killing her and Douglas? No, Reed. That's not something I'd forget. I didn't do it." He gazed wildly about, like a drowning man clutching at straws.

"The DNA test was fixed. It had to be."

"The medical examiner's office doesn't fix DNA test results."

"Then how else do you explain it?"

"I can't," Reed answered quietly.

The skepticism in his tone must have come through, because Jonathan turned sheet white, the reality of the situation sinking in. "You don't believe me. You think I'm guilty. h.e.l.l, even I'd think I was guilty if I didn't know I wasn't. I'm screwed, Reed. Totally, utterly screwed." All the fight seemed to drain out of him, and he dropped his head in his hands. "I've got no alibi. I'm up to my a.s.s in motives. And they've got irrefutable evidence. I'll either rot in jail for the rest of my life or be executed for something I didn't do."

Reed's mind was racing a mile a minute. Only one of three possibilities was true. A: Jonathan was guilty and one h.e.l.l of an actor. B: Jonathan was guilty but delusional, and didn't remember committing the crimes. Or C: Jonathan was as innocent as he claimed, and there was some other, bizarre explanation.

But what?

"Jonathan, let me ask you something. Would you agree to take a polygraph?"

"What good would that do? From what I understand, they're not always accurate. They're not admissible in court. And they won't hold a candle to DNA evidence."

"All that's true. But we've got nothing to lose. If you pa.s.s, it'll be something in our favor to share with the police and the DA. It'll put a c.h.i.n.k in their ironclad resolve that this is a done deal. If you fail, you'll be no worse off than you are now."

"Which is pretty bad." Jonathan blew out his breath. "Okay, fine, yeah, I'll take the polygraph. I've got to pa.s.s. I'm innocent. Now tell me, what happens next? I'm not exactly familiar with criminal proceedings."

"The arraignment's next. It'll be set for tomorrow."

"That's a bail hearing, isn't it?"

Reed nodded.

"What if the judge refuses to release me on bail? We're talking two counts of murder one here."

Reed didn't avert his gaze. "I won't lie to you. He might refuse bail. You're not a flight risk, but the state will argue that you're a threat to society. I think I can convince the court otherwise. But I can't make any promises. With a modic.u.m of luck, you'll be able to walk out of here until the grand-jury hearing--once you've forfeited your pa.s.sport and paid a ton of money. And Jonathan, I do mean a ton of money. Bail will probably be set at a million dollars or more, a tenth of which has to be put up in cash."

"Whatever it is, I'll come up with it. If I hit a snag and run short--" Jonathan's voice quavered, and he broke off, looking like he was going to puke. "I was about to say that Douglas would help me out. He always has. Only now he can't."

"No, he can't. What's more, you can't touch a single dime of his a.s.sets. Whatever you come up with has to be on your own. You have the resources, don't you?"

"Yeah. I'll liquidate whatever I have to. I'll do anything to avoid jail." Abruptly, Jonathan turned to Reed. "I'm spending the night here."

Another nod. "Yes, and I'm spending it poring over the facts and starting to build our case."

A weighted pause. "Reed, I need to clear something up."

"I'm listening."

"I realize I'm repeating myself. But in this case, it's necessary. You think I'm delusional. Maybe I am-- in some cases."

"Cases like Taylor."

A nod. "If I'm to be brutally honest with myself, I'm aware that I need help. Extricate me from this nightmare, and I'll get it. You have my word. But, in return . . ." Jonathan cleared his throat. "You said it's not necessary for you to believe I'm innocent in order to represent me. I understand that's true--legally. But I need you to believe me. I am innocent. I'm not a stalker, and I'm sure as h.e.l.l not a rapist and a murderer. I did not commit those crimes. Please believe me. And for G.o.d's sake, help me."

Reed rose. "I'll do what 1 can."

CHAPTER 28.

9:40 P.M.

EAST SIXTY-EIGHTH STREET.

Reed stared at the phone on his night table for a long time.

Then he unfolded the slip of paper Taylor had given him and punched in the Florida number.

"h.e.l.lo?" Her voice was weary and edgy as h.e.l.l.

"Hi, it's me."

"Hi." Her relief was a tangible ent.i.ty he could feel. Even now, more than a thousand miles away, she was still apprehensive each time she picked up the phone. "I'm glad it's you."

"Did your flight get in okay?"

"Right on schedule. I grabbed a sandwich, took a cab to the house, and soaked in a hot tub. Tomorrow I'll hit the beach. It's right on the other side of the row of palm trees outside my window. The weather's supposed to be eighty degrees and gorgeous."

Lighthearted words. Taut tone.

"Where's Mitch?" Reed asked.

"In one of the four downstairs guest rooms." A half laugh. "Don't worry about Mitch's comfort level.

My father doesn't do anything half measure. This place is a lavish Spanish-style palace. Between the Olympic-size pool, the high-tech exercise room, the ocean at our feet, and a choice of opulent bedrooms, each one with a private bathroom that's bigger than his entire Manhattan apartment, Mitch won't want for anything."

"I wasn't worried--at least not about Mitch." Reed gripped the phone more tightly. "I needed to hear your voice."

"Miss me already?"

"More than you know." He paused. "Taylor, there's another reason I'm calling."

A heartbeat of silence as she absorbed his words and his tone. "Reed, what's wrong?"

He blew out his breath. "I hate laying this on you. Especially now. Jonathan's been arrested for Adrienne and Douglas's murders."

She gasped. "Arrested--when?"

"He called me right after your plane took off. I went straight to the Nineteenth Precinct from the airport.

I arrived home a little while ago. The file is spread out all over my bed. It's going to be a long night."

"That doesn't sound too promising." Taylor was shaken. "I know you can't discuss it with me."

"No, I can't."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Reed, you sound like a wreck. Is there anything I can do?"

"Just have faith in me. No matter what spin the press puts on this, believe that I know what I'm doing."

"That's not an issue. It's a given." Taylor paused again. "Do you want me to come home?"

"Definitely not. Stay put. Relax and enjoy the sun. I feel better knowing you're safe. Mitch is with you. And the only people who know you're in Palm Beach are the gang at WVNY and me. So there'll be no creepy phone calls for you to contend with."

"There might not be any more of those anyway," she answered quietly. "Not if my stalker's in jail."

"If," Reed replied. "Which I don't think he is."

That was the truth. Still, Reed felt like a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Taylor was a.s.suming that Jonathan would be incarcerated for the long haul--until his trial. But if Reed's efforts were successful, Jonathan would be back on the streets tomorrow.

He had to tell her.

"The arraignment's tomorrow. Jonathan's willing to post any amount of bail."

Another silence.

"Are you telling me the state releases murder suspects on bail?"

"If the defense attorney makes a convincing-enough case that his client's not a flight risk or a threat to society, yes."

"Which you intend to do--don't answer that," she interrupted herself. "Of course that's what you intend to do. It's your job."

"Yes, it is." He was beginning to wish he'd told her to come home after all. "Taylor, listen to me--"

"You don't need to explain. I understand. And I appreciate your honesty. Now, I'll give you the same.

I don't blame you for doing what you have to. But don't blame me for hoping you fail. I'd feel a lot better if Jonathan Mallory stayed behind bars."

"I know." Reed rubbed a palm over his jaw. There was nothing else he could say, no way to bridge this gap. Not unless he proved Jonathan's innocence--on all counts.

"You'd better go," Taylor said, as if reading his mind. "You've got a lot of work ahead of you."

"Yeah. I do." He drew a slow breath. "Just one more thing before we hang up. I love you. Don't forget that."

"I didn't plan to."

"Good."

She must have sensed the underlying tension in his voice. "Reed, are you sure you're okay?"

"Okay" was a relative term.

"I'm fine," he a.s.sured her. "This is the world of a defense attorney. I've lived it for ten years. I'm a pro at it. I love the challenge. Now go to sleep. I didn't let you get much of that last night."

A soft laugh. "No, you didn't. But I'm not complaining." Her laughter faded. "I love you, too, by the way. And if you need me, I'm here."

SAt.u.r.dAY, FEBRUARY 15.

1:35 A.M.

Sleep wouldn't be coming tonight.

Then again, he hadn't expected it to. Not under the circ.u.mstances.

Still, he had to rest. Tomorrow was an important day.

He stared at the ceiling, not noticing the ugly cracks in the plaster.

Instead, he saw Taylor. She was always his last mental image at night. He'd visualize her in bed, her dark red hair spread out across the pillow, her body his for the taking.

And oh, how he planned to take it.

He s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably, his erection nearly painful in its magnitude.

Soon. Not yet. But soon.