I'll Be Watching You Part 5

She crossed her legs and interlaced her fingers on her lap. "Mr. Weston ..."

"Reed."

"Fine .. . Reed. I take it Jonathan Mallory's here to see you."

"Uh-huh."

"Does that mean your representation of Douglas Berkley extends to his ... I'm not sure how to cla.s.sify Jonathan Mallory. He's too old to be a ward or a foster child."

"True." The knowing gleam in Reed's eyes told Taylor he knew she was on a fis.h.i.+ng expedition. But it didn't seem to bother him. "I get your drift. And, yes, I represent Jonathan. We go back a long way."

"Did you meet through Douglas Berkley?"

"Nope. College. We graduated Princeton together."

"So you're friends."

"We're business a.s.sociates."

He was being vague. Attorney-client privilege, no doubt. Fine. She'd go at this from another angle.

"Getting back to your promising future here, I realize you represent some major clients like Douglas Berkley. Other than that, do you specialize in any particular kind of law?"

He didn't miss a beat. "I'm pretty versatile. But, yes, I specialize in criminal defense."

Now, that Taylor hadn't expected. "As in representing crooked CEOs who've ripped off their investors?"

Another hint of amus.e.m.e.nt. "Sometimes. Although it's usually a lot tamer."

"Tame." Taylor waved away that a.s.sessment. "My guess is you're being overly modest. Firms like Harter, Randolph and Collins don't represent drug dealers. They represent huge corporations and affluent business moguls." Like Douglas Berkley, she added silently to herself. "You must be quite a brilliant defense counselor."

"I do my best." Reed arched a brow. "Is the interrogation over, or is there more?"

Easy, Taylor cautioned herself. Don't push. Get what you can. Joseph will fill in the blanks. "Sorry.

I didn't mean to grill you."

"Sure you did. But that's fine. No harm done." Reed s.h.i.+fted his weight, folding his arms across his chest. "Now it's my turn. Why are you so fascinated with Douglas and Jonathan?"

His question was fair.

She went for evasive. "I'm not fascinated. I'm curious. My cousin was dating Gordon Mallory when they were both killed in that boat explosion. She and I were very close. It's natural for me to ask questions about Gordon's family and friends."

"Maybe," Reed responded. "But it's not natural for you to freak out when you come face-to-face with his twin. Or to nearly choke when you say his name."

Taylor didn't reply.

"You didn't like Gordon much, did you?"

Okay, enough was enough. "I'd better get going," she said, coming to her feet. "I have a radio show to do, and you have a client waiting."

Reed didn't push. Instead, he reached over, scooping up the napkin holding the remaining one and a half m.u.f.fins and wrapped them up. "Here." He handed the makes.h.i.+ft doggy bag to Taylor. "Finish these on the run. Your listeners won't be happy if you collapse during the show."

"You're right about that." She smiled, taking the m.u.f.fins. "Thanks again for the rescue." She turned to go.

"Taylor?" He halted her in her tracks. "It is Taylor, isn't it?"

"Yes." Her gaze was questioning as she watched him cross over to her.

"I think I should walk you out. It'll be easier for you." He didn't add because Jonathan Mallory's in the reception area. But that's what he meant.

For the second time in the past few minutes, Taylor didn't put up a fight. She wanted out. And she wanted her exit to be as fast and painless as possible.

She fell into step beside Reed Weston, heading down the corridor and toward the reception desk. She was relieved to see that the hall was quiet, with no gaping employees.

No one but Jonathan Mallory, who was sitting in the reception area, thumbing through a Wall Street Journal.

He rose as they approached him. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," Reed a.s.sured him. "Taylor just needed to be fed." He reached around her, pus.h.i.+ng open the door. "Don't forget to polish off those m.u.f.fins. They'll tide you over till you have time for a decent meal."

"I will." Taylor paused, forcing herself to turn to Jonathan. "Again, I apologize. I'm tired. The resemblance startled me."

He gave her a sympathetic smile, and a s.h.i.+ver shot up Taylor's spine. It was Gordon's smile. "I understand. Don't worry, my ego will recover."

"I'm glad to hear that." She had to get out of there. "Well, I won't keep you gentlemen from your business. Good-bye."

Five minutes later, Reed shut his office door, turning around to face Jonathan. "Suppose you tell me what that was all about."

His seemingly unruffled client lowered himself into a chair. "I have no idea. Obviously, she had issues with Gordon."

"Issues? Yeah, I'd say so." Reed loosened his blue silk tie, then walked around to sit behind his desk. "Any idea what those issues were?"

"Not a clue. Gordon and I weren't exactly tight."

Reed let it drop. "What made you change your mind about showing up late?"

"I didn't. Either your meeting went a lot longer than expected or you got a h.e.l.l of a late start. I arrived right on schedule."

Reed gave a tight nod. "We didn't get started until four-thirty."

"So how did it go?"

"She was cautious. She wanted to talk it over with her attorney and her cousin's parents. But she didn't refuse."

"Fine. So it'll take a few days. After that, she'll sign."

"Hopefully."

Jonathan frowned. "You don't sound too optimistic."

"I'm not. Something's bothering her. And that something concerns Gordon. Maybe she blames him for her cousin's death. Maybe it's more. Whatever it is, it might very well influence her decision. Remember, she doesn't exactly need the cash."

"She needs the closure."

"Agreed. The question is, how badly? Badly enough to appease whatever's upsetting her?"

"I see your point." Jonathan considered the possible snag, then shrugged it off. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. If necessary, I'll talk to Douglas. We'll figure out a way around it." He cleared his throat. "Did she ask you anything about me?"

"Oh, she went on a little fis.h.i.+ng expedition. She wanted to know if I represented you, how we met, that kind of thing."

"Really." Jonathan sounded more intrigued than worried. "Nothing about my relations.h.i.+p to Douglas?"

"She made reference to Douglas being your sponsor. So if she knows anything more, she's hiding it."

"No one manages to pull that off with you, Reed. If she was hiding something, you'd know it. You'd see right through her."

"I'd probably get an inkling, yeah. I didn't."

Jonathan settled back in his chair. "She's a real head turner, isn't she? I recognized her from the photo WVNY has posted on their Web site. But she's better-looking in person. A cla.s.sic beauty."

The personal, almost intimate note in Jonathan's voice took Reed by surprise. "I haven't checked out the site," he replied, keeping his tone noncommittal. "But, yeah, she's gorgeous."

"There's a certain elegance about her," Jonathan continued, looking pensive and far away. "Rumor has it her cousin was also a knockout. Dazzling red hair, perfect features--the whole nine yards. Taylor's more subtle. Her hair's that deeper, rich shade of red, and her eyes are dark, somewhere between brown and black. They're very haunting and expressive. It's hard to look away from them." His lips curved.

"I should know. They were boring into me as if I were the devil himself."

This was getting more interesting by the minute. "I didn't realize you were so taken with her."

Jonathan seemed to snap out of his reverie. "I wouldn't say I'm taken with her. I don't even know her. But I have eyes. She's beautiful. I also have ears. I've listened to her radio show. She's got a shrewd head on her shoulders. How often do you find beauty, brains, and cla.s.s all in one woman?"

"Good point," Reed agreed warily. "Still, I'd cut her a wide berth if I were you. Clearly she wasn't pleased to see a mirror image of Gordon."

Jonathan's gaze was steady. "Maybe. Maybe not."

CHAPTER 6.

JANUARY 14.

10:30 A.M.

DELLINGER ACADEMY.

EAST EIGHTY-FIFTH STREET, NEW YORK CITY.

Taylor shut her office door and walked around to take a seat behind her desk. She could feel the surge of tension, impatience, and resentment emanating from the impeccably dressed, polished, wealthy couple sitting across from her.

Chris Young's parents. Dr. Edward Young and Dr. Olivia Young. Edward was a nationally recognized urologist. Olivia was a neurosurgeon at Mount Sinai.

This was not going to be pleasant.

Sure enough, Olivia Young took out her pager and placed it pointedly on the edge of Taylor's desk.

"I've got a patient in recovery," she announced, leveling a cool stare at Taylor. "My time is limited."

"As is mine," her husband agreed in an authoritative voice that probably sent s.h.i.+vers up the spines of his medical staff. "So what's this about?"

"Chris." Taylor folded her hands in front of her. "And it's serious or I wouldn't have pulled you away from your patients."

"His grades were excellent this past term," Edward snapped. "Other than English, where he got a C.

Fine. We're all aware that English is not Chris's strong suit. All his college applications are in, and between his solid average and the wide range of sports--"

"This has nothing to do with Chris's academics, or where he stands in the college process," Taylor interrupted. "It has to do with his behavior."

In situations like this, the direct approach was best. Even if it did elicit fireworks.

She leaned forward, neither blinking nor averting her gaze. "I purposely chose this time for us to meet because the entire school is at an a.s.sembly, and I'm trying to cause Chris the least amount of embarra.s.sment."

"Embarra.s.sment? Over what?"

"The fact that he's been making inappropriate advances toward me."

Olivia Young's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"This problem didn't materialize out of the blue," Taylor continued. "To be blunt, Chris has had a crush on me since he was in eighth grade. Back then, it didn't concern me. He was coming into his own. It's not unusual for a boy who's discovering his s.e.xuality to have a crush on a teacher or school counselor. His flirtations were harmless--a lot of guffawing with his pals when they pa.s.sed me in the hall, and an occasional stare or grin. When the stares and grins got out of hand, I called Chris into my office and we had a chat. We discussed respect, and proper versus improper behavior. I made my point loud and clear. But in the end, it seemed to sink in. Plus, Chris got sidetracked by a normal, extremely active social life. His popularity really took off after he became captain of the hockey team. The girls started swarming around him like flies."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that this term, things took a major downward spiral."

"The college entrance process is a stressful one, Ms. Halstead," Edward reminded her icily. "I'm sure you realize that."

"I do. And I cut Chris more slack than I should have because of it. But he's gotten way out of line. Last month, he started making suggestive comments to me. If you'd like particulars, I'd be happy to supply them."

"Don't bother." Olivia held up a curtailing palm. "We get the picture."

"I thought you would. Anyway, right before winter break, I told Chris that if his behavior didn't change ASAP, I'd be calling you in. That obviously didn't deter him. Since we got back from vacation, the situation's gotten worse. He pops into my office every chance he gets and asks me out. Last week he waltzed in here after hours, draped an arm around my shoulders, and suggested that we--and I quote your son--'hook up tonight for a date--a date with benefits.' He then elaborated on what those benefits would be, and told me how adept he was at providing them. Again, I'm sure I don't need to paint a picture for you." Taylor's jaw set. "Your son is not a gawky adolescent anymore. He's a very c.o.c.ky young man of nearly eighteen. He's had ample warning about his behavior, yet he's made no move to modify it. If anything, he's stepping it up to the point where it const.i.tutes hara.s.sment. That tells me he needs help. Which is why I called you. We need to work together on this. You're his parents. You need to intervene before it's too late."

Edward Young's eyes narrowed. "Hara.s.sment," he repeated. "Are you threatening to initiate a lawsuit?"

The response was so typical, and so maddening, that Taylor had to fight to keep her tone even. "No, Dr. Young, I'm not interested in suing you. What I am interested in is helping your son. To do that, I need your cooperation. He's only going to be living at home a little while longer. After that, he'll be at college, on his own. He needs to be prepared for that. Right now, he's going down a very destructive path."

"A destructive path?" Now that the fear of a lawsuit had been eliminated, Edward sounded more amused than upset. "Isn't that a trifle melodramatic, Ms. Halstead? Chris might need a few lessons in self-control, and a reminder of your school's code of ethics--both of which I'll make sure he receives--but I'd hardly describe his flirtation with you as destructive. You're young. You're attractive. You're an accomplished professional. In short, you're an excellent role model. If anything, I'd say my son idolizes you."

"No, Dr. Young. Your son doesn't idolize me. He hits on me. He's got some psychological issues that need to be addressed--not just by me, but by the two of you in conjunction with a therapist who can offer him private counseling. Again, I urge you to insert yourself in this matter--now-- before he leaves for college."