Best Kept Secrets(151)

already called three times today, wanting to know if you could

possibly have had anything to do with this prominent and

respected judge's suicide. Stacey is incoherent with grief, but

in her lucid moments, she's cursing you to perdition.

"We've got Plummet and his army of crazies out there on

the courthouse steps, carrying pickets that say this is just the

beginning of the end. All this chaos is because of you and

your half-baked murder case, Counselor."

Alex felt as though her chest was going to cave in, but she

fought back. "Was I supposed to let Wallace go free just

because he was a really nice guy?"

"There are more subtle ways to handle delicate situations

like that, Alex."

"But, no one handled it at all!" she cried. "Is that your

philosophy of the law, Sheriff Lambert? Some rules don't

apply to some people? When a friend of yours crosses over,

do you conveniently look the other way? Apparently so. Case

in point--Nora Gail Burton and her whorehouse. Does that

same exclusion from justice apply to you, as well?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he went to the door and opened

it, saying curtly, "Let's go."



She stepped into the hallway with him; he steered her

toward the rear elevator. "Pat loaned me his wife's car,"

she told him. "It's parked out front."

"I know. There's a swarm of reporters camped right beside

it, all of them eager to know the gory details of the judge's

suicide. I'm sneaking you out the back door."

They left the building unseen. It was completely dark outside,

and Alex wondered what time it was.

They were halfway between the building and the parking

lot when a form disengaged itself from the shadows and

blocked their path.

"Stacey." Reede exclaimed softly. Subconsciously, his

hand closed around the butt of his pistol, although he didn't

remove it from the holster.

"I thought I'd catch you trying to hide."

Stacey's eyes were fixed on Alex. The hatred in them made

Alex want to cower against Reede for protection, but she

maintained her proud stance. "Before you say anything, Stacey,

I want you to know that I'm terribly sorry about your

father."

"Are you?"

"Very sorry."

Stacey shivered, whether with cold or revulsion, Alex

couldn't tell. "You came here to ruin him. Instead of being

sorry, you should feel very proud of yourself."

"I had nothing to do with your father's past mistakes."

"You're the reason for the whole mess! Why couldn't you

just leave him alone?" Stacey cried, her voice cracking.

"What happened twenty-five years ago wasn't important to

anybody but you. He was old. He planned to retire in a few

months anyway. What harm was he doing you?"

Alex remembered the judge's last words to her. Stacey

hadn't known about the shady deal he had struck on her

behalf. Alex could spare her that pain, at least until she'd

had time to absorb the shock of her father's death. "I can't

discuss the case with you. I'm sorry."

' 'Case? Case? This was never about a case. This was about

your trashy mother, who used and manipulated people--



men--until someone got tired of it and killed her." Her eyes

narrowed threateningly and she took a malevolent step closer.

"You're just like her, stirring up trouble, a user of people

and a whore!"

She launched herself at Alex, but Reede stepped between

them, catching Stacey against his chest and holding her there

until her rage was spent and she was clinging to him weakly,

sobbing.

He stroked her back and murmured words of comfort.

Behind her back, he passed Alex the keys to his Blazer. She

took them and let herself in, locking the door behind her.

Watching through the windshield, she saw him lead Stacey

around the corner of the building and out of sight. Several

minutes later, he came jogging back. She unlocked the door

for him and he climbed in.

"Will she be all right?" Alex asked.

"Yeah. I turned her over to some friends. They'll see that

she gets home. Someone will stay with her tonight." His lips

narrowed into a bitter line. "Of course, the man she wants

isn't there for her."

"Her father?"

He shook his head. "Junior."

Because it was all so pitifully sad, Alex began to cry again.



Forty-two



She didn't raise her head until the Blazer jounced over a

chuckhole. She tried to get her bearings by looking through

the windshield, but it was a dark night, and the road had no

markings. "Where are we going?"





"My place." No sooner had he said it than his headlights