The Bad Daughter(79)

She heard the front door open, then slam shut, as Melanie sprayed the air with questions. “Robin, what’s going on? What’s with all the reporters? What’s the sheriff’s car doing here?”

Robin put the glasses on the counter and stepped into the hallway, the sheriff behind her. Melanie, Alec, and Landon were standing just inside the front door. The smell of horses galloped toward Robin, almost knocking her down. She sneezed twice.

“Bless you,” said the sheriff.

“Thank you,” Robin acknowledged. Then, seeing the confusion in Melanie’s eyes, “Why don’t you go into the living room—”

“Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Melanie,” Robin said, “go into the living room.”

“Fine.” Melanie marched into the living room, Alec and Landon behind her, Robin and the sheriff bringing up the rear.

“Hi, Melanie,” Cassidy said in greeting, her eyes shifting toward the two men behind her. “Hi, Landon.” A slight pause. Then, “Tom? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

Alec turned pale, his mouth falling open in shock.

Robin felt a jolt of anxiety so strong that it reverberated throughout her entire body. “Oh, God,” she muttered, understanding that it wouldn’t take long for the sheriff to put two and two together. Motive and opportunity. All that was needed for the sheriff to make an arrest.

“Who’s Tom?” the sheriff asked.

“Tom,” Cassidy repeated. “My mother’s friend from San Francisco.”

“You’re confused,” Melanie said. “This man is Alec, my brother.”

“Alec? No. It’s Tom. Tom Richards. We used to visit him.”

The sheriff stepped forward, his hand on his holster, the full meaning of what he’d just heard clicking into place behind his eyes. “Okay, everybody, stay nice and calm. Alec, suppose we step outside.”

“Sheriff—” Robin began.

“Let’s not make this any more unpleasant for everyone than we have to,” Prescott said, cutting her off. He put a hand on Alec’s arm and led him from the room.

“I don’t understand. What’s happening?” Cassidy asked.

Robin ran outside after them. “What are you doing?” she asked as the sheriff cuffed her brother’s hands behind his back.

“I believe you advised me earlier to shit or get off the pot,” Prescott said. “Alec Davis,” he began, guiding him up the gravel driveway toward his patrol car as the waiting reporters and photographers descended en masse, “I remind you that you have the right to remain silent…”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE


The Tehama Superior Court is located at 445 Pine Street, a few blocks from Main Street and a block from the Tehama County Jail. Unlike the unassuming low-rise brown-brick jailhouse, the courthouse is an imposing two-story white concrete-and-marble building, whose front entrance is flanked by tall decorative columns and towering evergreens.

The interior is equally impressive—a large, open lobby in white-and-beige marble, more decorative columns, skylights, and a sweeping staircase leading to a balcony that surrounds and overlooks the lobby below. The court’s mission statement is “to ensure the prompt and fair adjudication of all cases and to improve public confidence in the Courts through accessibility, communication and education.” There are a total of five courtrooms, presided over by Tehama County magistrates.

Robin and Blake stood in the hall outside Courtroom One, waiting for the bailiff to unlock the doors. It was almost nine-thirty. Alec’s hearing was scheduled for ten o’clock. “What do you think is going to happen?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think they’ll grant Alec bail?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he’s all right? Please don’t say you don’t know.”

“I think he’s all right,” Blake responded dutifully, although his eyes said, “I don’t know.”

“Poor Alec,” Robin checked that her white blouse was tucked securely in the waistband of her blue skirt. “Do you think he got any sleep at all last night?”

“Probably more than you did.”

“I’m sorry. Did I keep you up?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Robin apologized again. “I just feel so helpless. What do you think is going to happen?”

“McAllister will be here soon. He should be able to tell us something.”

Robin looked down the wide corridor for some sign of her brother’s lawyer, but while the building was filling up with people, Jeff McAllister wasn’t one of them.

She’d called him as soon as Alec had been arrested and told him what had happened. The lawyer had listened and said he’d be in touch. When Robin hadn’t heard from him an hour later, she and Blake drove to the sheriff’s office themselves, only to be told that Alec had been transferred to the Tehama County Jail.

“He’s in jail,” Robin had reported to Melanie, who’d stayed back at the house with Cassidy and Landon. The jail was more than forty years old and had a capacity for two hundred and twenty-seven inmates, both those who had been sentenced and those who were awaiting sentencing. Alec was now one of the latter. “They won’t let us see him. And his bail hearing isn’t till tomorrow morning. Which means he has to spend the night in that awful place.”