Read Online Tell No Lies by Julie Compton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Julie Compton
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Psychological fiction, legal thriller, Murder, Adultery, st louis, Death Penalty, attorney, Public Prosecutors, family drama, Prosecutor
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sorting the tapes and scooted closer to him.
"Yeah, in a perfect world."
"Why do you say that? I thought you said you were thinking about it."
"Well, I was. I am, I guess, or I'd like to." Was he? Or was he just covering, still, from last night? "I'd love the job, but I'd never get elected. Not in the current climate. With Barnard all over the news, they'll want someone who's willing to go for death."
He stood and went into the kitchen. Claire called after him, "If you want the job, just give it your best shot. Just be you and let the voters decide."
He laughed as he poured himself a glass of water at the sink. She wasn't that naïve. "Yeah, let's see," he said, walking back. "When they count the votes, there'd be mine, yours and maybe Earl's." And Jenny's .
She laughed, too. "Oh, Jack, you're exaggerating just a bit, don't you think? There are as many people who agree with you as disagree with you."
"Maybe," he said. "But it's the ones who disagree with me who will get out the vote this year."
She kept silent to acknowledge that maybe he had a point.
"Where is everyone?" he asked. "It's so quiet."
"Jamie's upstairs in his room playing. Michael's off rollerblading somewhere. He knows to be back by seven for dinner."
Jack lay on the couch, using his feet to kick his briefcase onto the floor. "What's with the retro music?" he asked, singing along under his breath to "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic." It was unlike Claire to be nostalgic.
"Don't you know what these are?" Claire grabbed a handful of the cassette off the carpet and held them up. "They're the tapes you made for me. Don't you remember doing that? When we first started dating."
"Yeah," he conceded quietly. He did remember making those tapes. He remembered sitting in his apartment, in front of the dual cassette players—one to play and one to record—and trying to choose just the right mix of songs for her. She probably didn't realize it, but he'd tried to give each tape its own theme, or sometimes he put the songs in a certain order to tell a story. He'd merely labeled them "Party Music" or "Soft Rock," so as not to reveal too much to her. He remembered recording this very song, this tape, for their first picnic in Forest Park. He'd wanted to subtly convey his attraction to her. So much for subtlety , he thought, embarrassed now by his youthful intentions.
"Of all the things you've ever given me, I've cherished these tapes the most," she said.
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. "Really? Why?"
Claire moved closer to the couch and sat on the floor just in front of his face. "Jack, you've always been such an eloquent speaker, for the right audience. I remember you in mock trial, how you sounded like you'd been speaking to a jury all your life. Even in class, I remember Professor Buckley calling on you, and you were so cocky when you debated with him, the only one in class he didn't scare the shit out of that first year. But when it came to me, you just lost it. Try as you might, you couldn't say what you wanted to. So these tapes are like old love letters to me."
Okay, so she had realized . He caressed the back of her head and kissed her.
"Hmm," she mumbled from her throat. She pulled away and scrambled up to the couch, stretching out on top of him. She loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt.
"Let's go upstairs," Jack suggested between kisses.
"I can't leave this like that," she whispered, motioning to the mess on the floor.
"Sure you can."
She giggled. "We've gotta feed the kids and get them to bed first." She climbed off him and headed for the kitchen. He closed his eyes and listened to her putting the glass he'd left on the counter into the dishwasher. Then he heard Jamie's voice from upstairs and suddenly had the urge to be with him.
Jack found his younger son seated on the floor of his bedroom, his miniature dinosaurs and zoo animals lined up in front of him. He held two, a T-rex in one
"Yeah, in a perfect world."
"Why do you say that? I thought you said you were thinking about it."
"Well, I was. I am, I guess, or I'd like to." Was he? Or was he just covering, still, from last night? "I'd love the job, but I'd never get elected. Not in the current climate. With Barnard all over the news, they'll want someone who's willing to go for death."
He stood and went into the kitchen. Claire called after him, "If you want the job, just give it your best shot. Just be you and let the voters decide."
He laughed as he poured himself a glass of water at the sink. She wasn't that naïve. "Yeah, let's see," he said, walking back. "When they count the votes, there'd be mine, yours and maybe Earl's." And Jenny's .
She laughed, too. "Oh, Jack, you're exaggerating just a bit, don't you think? There are as many people who agree with you as disagree with you."
"Maybe," he said. "But it's the ones who disagree with me who will get out the vote this year."
She kept silent to acknowledge that maybe he had a point.
"Where is everyone?" he asked. "It's so quiet."
"Jamie's upstairs in his room playing. Michael's off rollerblading somewhere. He knows to be back by seven for dinner."
Jack lay on the couch, using his feet to kick his briefcase onto the floor. "What's with the retro music?" he asked, singing along under his breath to "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic." It was unlike Claire to be nostalgic.
"Don't you know what these are?" Claire grabbed a handful of the cassette off the carpet and held them up. "They're the tapes you made for me. Don't you remember doing that? When we first started dating."
"Yeah," he conceded quietly. He did remember making those tapes. He remembered sitting in his apartment, in front of the dual cassette players—one to play and one to record—and trying to choose just the right mix of songs for her. She probably didn't realize it, but he'd tried to give each tape its own theme, or sometimes he put the songs in a certain order to tell a story. He'd merely labeled them "Party Music" or "Soft Rock," so as not to reveal too much to her. He remembered recording this very song, this tape, for their first picnic in Forest Park. He'd wanted to subtly convey his attraction to her. So much for subtlety , he thought, embarrassed now by his youthful intentions.
"Of all the things you've ever given me, I've cherished these tapes the most," she said.
He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. "Really? Why?"
Claire moved closer to the couch and sat on the floor just in front of his face. "Jack, you've always been such an eloquent speaker, for the right audience. I remember you in mock trial, how you sounded like you'd been speaking to a jury all your life. Even in class, I remember Professor Buckley calling on you, and you were so cocky when you debated with him, the only one in class he didn't scare the shit out of that first year. But when it came to me, you just lost it. Try as you might, you couldn't say what you wanted to. So these tapes are like old love letters to me."
Okay, so she had realized . He caressed the back of her head and kissed her.
"Hmm," she mumbled from her throat. She pulled away and scrambled up to the couch, stretching out on top of him. She loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt.
"Let's go upstairs," Jack suggested between kisses.
"I can't leave this like that," she whispered, motioning to the mess on the floor.
"Sure you can."
She giggled. "We've gotta feed the kids and get them to bed first." She climbed off him and headed for the kitchen. He closed his eyes and listened to her putting the glass he'd left on the counter into the dishwasher. Then he heard Jamie's voice from upstairs and suddenly had the urge to be with him.
Jack found his younger son seated on the floor of his bedroom, his miniature dinosaurs and zoo animals lined up in front of him. He held two, a T-rex in one
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