Overkill(22)

He sat down on his stool, facing her, and indicated the power bar. “If you change your mind.”

She ignored the offer and went straight to the point. “It’s the only way to put Eban Clarke back in prison and keep him there.”

He noshed a bite of his bar. “When I was playing football, I had to memorize playbooks this thick.” He held his hands roughly six inches apart. “I have good retention. But let me make sure I’ve got this straight.” He looked at her hard. “In order to get that Clarke creep put away for murder, I’m the one who has to kill Rebecca.”

Looking distressed, she said, “That’s a harsh summation.”

“You’re goddamn right it’s harsh.”

“And unfair.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He folded his arms on the granite and leaned across the island toward her. “What’s your stake in this?”

“Did you even look at my business card? The embossed part, not the address I handwrote on the back.”

“An Atlanta address and area code. What are you doing in the DA’s office here?”

“As a courtesy, I was loaned a vacant office to work out of temporarily. I work for the Georgia attorney general. I’m a state prosecutor.”

“This isn’t Georgia. What work are you doing up here?”

She gave him a pointed look.

He began to chuckle. “Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you. No, actually your work is done. You can pack up and go home.”

“I know it bothers you that Clarke is out.”

“Of course it bothers me. I meant it when I said they should have thrown away the key.”

“Then why weren’t you at the release hearing, waving a banner to that effect?”

“You want to know why I didn’t come? I’ll tell you why. Because if I’d been there that hearing would have turned into a carnival. Admit it, Ms. Lennon. That hearing came and went without any folderol. It was conducted under the radar. Nobody noticed.”

“There was media.”

“Really? I didn’t see it on TV. It didn’t make all those tabloid shows whose lifeblood are scandals and tragedies. It wasn’t the cover story of the National Enquirer.”

She tugged on one of the strands of hair that brushed her cheek. “All right. There was some local coverage because the Clarkes have a high public profile in Atlanta. But you’ve made your point.”

“Thank you.” He resettled in his seat and finished his power bar, which allowed time for the air to clear before he resumed. “It was better for Doug, for everybody, if I stayed away and voiced my opinion of Clarke’s early release in writing. In any case, nothing I wrote or Doug said mattered, did it? Clarke still got out.”

She sighed. “I think the outcome was decided even before the hearing was convened. I’m guessing, although it will be difficult to prove, that Sid Clarke either bribed or blackmailed the judge, probably a combination of both.”

Zach drained his glass of juice and carried it over to the sink. “It sucks,” he said, keeping his back to her as he rinsed out the glass. “It truly does. But I won’t do it.”

He dried his hands before turning back around. “You know, Rebecca wouldn’t leave the house, not even to go to a spin class, without being photo-op ready. Hair, makeup, jewelry, the whole shebang. When she crossed out all the ‘sad stuff’ in that directive, if she had foreseen the indignity of her current condition, I believe she would have said, ‘I would rather die.’

“But even if I based my decision on what I think would be her wish, I would have to engage in another battle with Doug. I don’t want to put him through that, especially since he recently lost Mary.

“And I don’t want to put myself through it, either. Apart from the personal agony of having to actually say when, the blowback would be more than I’m willing to endure. For a second time.”

He ran his hand over his mouth and chin as he gazed down at the hems of his sweatpants that pooled over his bare feet. “I’m sorry.” He raised his head and looked across at her. “I understand your agenda. It’s sound. It’s just. I would like nothing better than for that rich prick to live out the rest of his days in misery. I hope you succeed.”

“Eventually, perhaps, I will.”

“When Rebecca dies on her own,” he said.

“Yes. But what I fear is that ‘eventually’ will come too late.”

“Why the time crunch?”

“The court returned Eban Clarke’s passport. If he were tipped of a pending murder charge, he could hop his father’s private jet to anywhere. He could be long gone by tomorrow. By tonight. As we speak.” She paused and reined in the urgency in her voice. “That’s why I came to you, hoping you would at least consider taking this alternative measure.”

“Sorry,” he said again. “If nailing him is dependent on me ending Rebecca’s life, it’s not gonna happen. I went through that hell once. I won’t put myself through it again.”

Elbow on the island, she propped her chin on her fist. Her gaze was nonjudgmental, gently prodding, compelling. And, damn her, it worked. He began to talk.

“As you know, I abdicated to Doug and Mary and cleared out. I thought that would be the end of it for me. Far from it. Rebecca and I, our stormy marriage and divorce, were headlines again.