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Authors: Karen Rose
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neatly draped over her arm.
He didn’t need a law degree to know this was all about Elena Muñoz. When he started toward her, she slipped out the doors at the back of the courtroom. By the time he made it into the hall, she was nowhere to be seen.
‘That woman from the video,’ Daphne said. ‘Do you know her?’
‘No,’ Grayson answered, troubled. ‘Do you?’
‘Nope. But I’d lay you dollars to donuts that you will. Are you gonna tell Bashears and Morton that she was here?’
‘No,’ he murmured and was happy she didn’t ask why not, because he didn’t know himself. ‘It’s showtime.’ Together they headed out to the sea of reporters.
‘Mr Smith! Mr Smith!’
Pushing the woman to the edge of his mind, Grayson gave his attention to the reporters. ‘This was a victory for the victims,’ he said. ‘And closure for their families. We’re satisfied with the jury’s decision. Justice was done here today.’
A flash of red caught his eye and he glanced left. She was standing alone, despite the people milling around her. She gave him the briefest of nods before she lifted the blood-red hood of her coat, hiding her face as she walked away.
He stepped around the cameras. ‘Any more has to come from the Public Affairs Office.’ He took the courthouse stairs two at time, heading in the direction she’d gone.
‘You’re going to talk to her?’ Daphne asked, her heels clicking on the pavement as she barely kept up with him.
‘If I can catch her,’ Grayson said grimly. She must have already turned a corner .
‘And if you can’t?’
Grayson thought of the sign behind Phin Radcliffe when he’d reported the story that morning. Brae Brook Village Apartments . ‘Then I know where she lives.’
‘As does everyone in the free world with an internet connection.’
He thought of Elena, of the bullet-hole in her head. ‘I know. Do me a favor. Go back to the office and find out everything you can about her.’
‘Starting with her name?’ Daphne asked.
‘Yeah. Start with that. Thanks, Daphne.’
The woman lived on the outskirts of the city. If she’d driven in, she had to park somewhere. There was a parking garage a block ahead. Be there. Let me catch you .
Tuesday, April 5, 11.50 A.M .
Well, that was useless . Paige walked back to her truck, her step as brisk as her stiff knees would allow. I’ll know if I can trust him , she thought sardonically. I’m an idiot .
She came, she saw, she left more conflicted than before. All she could honestly say was that Grayson Smith’s photographs didn’t do him justice. He was broodingly handsome in the newspaper photos, but in person he . . . dominated. It was his physical size, true. The man could have been a linebacker, but it was more than that. He had a presence. Like . . . Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll fix everything .
The people who’d gathered to shake his hand had felt it too. It was written all over their grateful faces as they thanked him for getting justice for their murdered loved one.
She could say he was a successful prosecutor with a passion for his work, but she’d known that already. What she suspected by watching him was that he had a passion for a great many other things, most of which she hadn’t done in way too many months.
She might admit, in a weak moment, that he’d fascinated her. And that she had been entirely too attracted for her own good.
What she still didn’t know was if she could trust him. Damned if she didn’t want to, though. But she’d been taken in by a pretty face too many times in the past to succumb.
She’d wanted to trust every man she’d let into her life. Too many times. Too many men. But ‘in the past’ was key. There’d been a time when she hadn’t let a week go by between breaking up with one disappointment, only to fly to the next one.
Looking for love in all the wrong places, hating myself for being so pathetic .
No more. It had been eighteen months since she’d allowed
He didn’t need a law degree to know this was all about Elena Muñoz. When he started toward her, she slipped out the doors at the back of the courtroom. By the time he made it into the hall, she was nowhere to be seen.
‘That woman from the video,’ Daphne said. ‘Do you know her?’
‘No,’ Grayson answered, troubled. ‘Do you?’
‘Nope. But I’d lay you dollars to donuts that you will. Are you gonna tell Bashears and Morton that she was here?’
‘No,’ he murmured and was happy she didn’t ask why not, because he didn’t know himself. ‘It’s showtime.’ Together they headed out to the sea of reporters.
‘Mr Smith! Mr Smith!’
Pushing the woman to the edge of his mind, Grayson gave his attention to the reporters. ‘This was a victory for the victims,’ he said. ‘And closure for their families. We’re satisfied with the jury’s decision. Justice was done here today.’
A flash of red caught his eye and he glanced left. She was standing alone, despite the people milling around her. She gave him the briefest of nods before she lifted the blood-red hood of her coat, hiding her face as she walked away.
He stepped around the cameras. ‘Any more has to come from the Public Affairs Office.’ He took the courthouse stairs two at time, heading in the direction she’d gone.
‘You’re going to talk to her?’ Daphne asked, her heels clicking on the pavement as she barely kept up with him.
‘If I can catch her,’ Grayson said grimly. She must have already turned a corner .
‘And if you can’t?’
Grayson thought of the sign behind Phin Radcliffe when he’d reported the story that morning. Brae Brook Village Apartments . ‘Then I know where she lives.’
‘As does everyone in the free world with an internet connection.’
He thought of Elena, of the bullet-hole in her head. ‘I know. Do me a favor. Go back to the office and find out everything you can about her.’
‘Starting with her name?’ Daphne asked.
‘Yeah. Start with that. Thanks, Daphne.’
The woman lived on the outskirts of the city. If she’d driven in, she had to park somewhere. There was a parking garage a block ahead. Be there. Let me catch you .
Tuesday, April 5, 11.50 A.M .
Well, that was useless . Paige walked back to her truck, her step as brisk as her stiff knees would allow. I’ll know if I can trust him , she thought sardonically. I’m an idiot .
She came, she saw, she left more conflicted than before. All she could honestly say was that Grayson Smith’s photographs didn’t do him justice. He was broodingly handsome in the newspaper photos, but in person he . . . dominated. It was his physical size, true. The man could have been a linebacker, but it was more than that. He had a presence. Like . . . Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll fix everything .
The people who’d gathered to shake his hand had felt it too. It was written all over their grateful faces as they thanked him for getting justice for their murdered loved one.
She could say he was a successful prosecutor with a passion for his work, but she’d known that already. What she suspected by watching him was that he had a passion for a great many other things, most of which she hadn’t done in way too many months.
She might admit, in a weak moment, that he’d fascinated her. And that she had been entirely too attracted for her own good.
What she still didn’t know was if she could trust him. Damned if she didn’t want to, though. But she’d been taken in by a pretty face too many times in the past to succumb.
She’d wanted to trust every man she’d let into her life. Too many times. Too many men. But ‘in the past’ was key. There’d been a time when she hadn’t let a week go by between breaking up with one disappointment, only to fly to the next one.
Looking for love in all the wrong places, hating myself for being so pathetic .
No more. It had been eighteen months since she’d allowed
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