Read Online Fatal Judgment by Irene Hannon - Free Book Online Page B

And instead of trying to convince her the accident wasn’t the main reason he’d returned to St. Louis, he’d give her serious grief for swearing Cole to secrecy about it until he was back from Iraq.
    Because as he’d learned the hard way, with Alison the best defense was always a good offense.

5
     
    ______
     
    Draining the dregs of his coffee, Jake checked his watch. Again.
    Liz was taking a lot longer than he’d expected with her shower and packing. Cole had left, and the deputy marshals lounging around her kitchen were getting restless.
    So was he.
    Setting the cup on the kitchen counter, he addressed the group. “I’ll see if I can speed things up. Let’s plan to head out in ten minutes.”
    Thirty seconds later, he knocked on her door. “Liz, it’s Jake. Everything okay in there?”
    “Yeah. I guess.”
    He didn’t like her vague tone.
    “May I come in?”
    “Yes.”
    The woman sitting on the bed was a Liz he’d never before seen. She’d exchanged her usual power wardrobe for jeans and a black knit top, and her hair was still slightly damp, a few loose tendrils around her temples curling softly from the humidity in the bathroom. She was barefoot, one leg tucked under her, and her attention was fixed on the cell phone in her hand.
    It would have been an appealing picture. Except for her shell-shocked expression.
    He crossed the room in three long strides, noting as he covered the short distance that the tape on two of the sealed packing boxes had been pulled back, as if she’d rooted for some items to take with her. The two suitcases sitting at the end of the bed appeared to be packed.
    But she wasn’t making any move to leave.
    “Liz? What’s going on?”
    Without looking up, she blinked once. Twice. Again. “I’ve had my phone on mute. There are twenty-five voice mails since last night. I need to call my boss. Talk to my law clerks. Make funeral arrangements. Cancel some commitments. Get back to my landlord so he can send a plumber to fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom.” Panic seeped into her voice. Along with a touch of hysteria. “And I haven’t even checked my home machine yet.”
    She was on overload. Overwhelmed by the enormity of the decisions to be made and the details to be dealt with. Given enough stress, even competent, organized, in-control people like Liz Michaels had their limits.
    And she’d reached hers.
    Leaning down, he flipped the phone closed. “We’ll deal with all that once we get to the condo. And we’ll do whatever we can to help you.”
    She lifted her head, and the searing anguish in her eyes bridged the professional distance he was attempting to maintain. “Can you make this nightmare go away?”
    “I wish I could.” He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat.
    With one more look at her phone, she slid it into her purse. Took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. “Let me put on my shoes and I’ll be ready to leave.”
    She rose, walked to the open closet, and pulled a pair of casual shoes off of a rack.
    “Is this everything?” Jake gestured to the bags at the foot of the bed.
    “I’ll need my briefcase. And my laptop.”
    “Where are they?”
    “On the floor beside my desk in the office.”
    “I’ll get them. And the guys will load your suitcases in the car. Meet us in the kitchen when you’re ready.”
    Jake detoured to the office, found the briefcase and computer, and cracked the blinds on the front window as he passed. Two media vans were now parked in front of the house.
    Great.
    Back in the kitchen, he delegated bag duty to the two marshals who’d been waiting for them when they arrived—and issued a warning.
    “We’ve got company. Someone tipped off the press that we’re here.”
    Spence crumpled his cup and tossed it into an empty donut bag as the two men exited. “I heard from the coroner’s office a few minutes ago. No problem on the organ donation. You want me to call the hospital and pass the word?”
    “Yeah. I’ll let