Wanting to offer some comfort, Rhianna said, “I’m sure it wasn’t that she didn’t trust you. Maybe she was just trying to protect you by not telling you something.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“In a way, but mostly I’m trying to protect myself.”
“It’s about that man, isn’t it—the one you mentioned?”
“Yes.”
Bonnie seemed lost in thought for a few seconds, then she said, “Kate, Lloyd knows people. They’re not welcome in my home, but he stays in touch with them.” Strained embarrassment tightened her face. “If you need for someone like that to go to Denver with you and…take care of the problem, just ask.”
Rhianna laughed softly. “Are you offering me a guy called Joey with a big neck and some anger-management issues?”
Bonnie shrugged innocently. “Knuckle-draggers have their uses.”
“You’re a friend. But no. I can handle this by myself.”
A small petulant voice called, “Mommy? Soon, please.”
“I’m being summoned.” As Bonnie headed for the den, she glanced back. “The offer’s on the table. Remember that when you’re there. All you have to do is pick up the phone.”
Chapter Six
I can’t plead guilty.” Brigham was so outraged he dropped his silver toothpick. “I refuse to confess to a crime I did not commit.”
“Given the circumstances, the deal is a reasonable one,” Jules said with evenhanded calm. “You’re facing a rape charge. The DA is willing to reduce that to second-degree assault. That’s a class-four felony instead of a class-two. You’d serve eighteen months.”
“Prison? That’s out of the question.”
“Mr. Brigham, if you are found guilty as charged, you are looking at eight to twenty-four years. At a minimum you’ll serve a mandatory five.”
“But they’re not going to find me guilty,” the client declared with the confidence of a man who thought he could buy an acquittal.
To some extent he was correct. Jules had handled worse cases and gotten the charges dismissed. And if by some unhappy stroke of fate the jury did not see things her way, there was always the appeal process. Sagelblum had a 90 percent success rate in that arena.
“It’s your decision,” she said. “I am obligated to discuss the DA’s offer with you, that’s all.”
“Can’t you people get the trial delayed again?” Brigham seemed to be having a cranky Monday. He had arrived late for the morning meeting and had complained about the cookies served with his coffee.
“You were arraigned over five months ago,” Jules said. “Jury selection begins this week.”
Colorado had a speedy trial law that required felony cases to be in front of a jury within six months of arraignment. Sagelblum had already obtained a three-week delay. The firm did not fall back on such tactics in criminal cases unless they were not trial-ready, which would be unusual. They had built their reputation by getting involved early and preparing an aggressive defense that was all about getting ahead of the prosecution. Everyone at the district attorney’s office knew that with Sagelblum on board, the case would go all the way and they would have an expensive fight on their hands. In Brigham’s case, the continuance had been sought so Jules had time to get back from England and prepare for her role.
“It’s up to you,” she said. “Take a plea or take your chances.”
“You don’t think I should accept, do you?” Brigham sounded incredulous.
Jules hesitated. It was tempting to steer this client toward a plea. In Colorado most criminal cases never went to trial, and most men charged with rape were eager to plead guilty to a less-stigmatizing felony. Prosecutors were seldom hard-line unless the media turned a case into a fiasco as they had with the Kobe Bryant prosecution. Normally, a plea bargain was a win/win for all parties. The victim would not have to testify and face humiliation and trauma in a courtroom full of strangers. Judges with clogged calendars could process out offenders. The DA could keep bodies moving and guarantee a conviction.
There was only one problem. Fees.
Sagelblum made the big bucks by going to trial, not pleading their clients out.
“We’ve already succeeded in getting the charges reduced,” Jules said. They’d won a motion to dismiss the kidnapping charge. “If you can pay close attention during preparation and adhere very carefully to the testimony plan, I think we can be optimistic at trial.”
“When will she arrive?”
“Who?”
“Rhianna.”
“I have no idea.”
“Is there somewhere they usually stay—witnesses and so on?”
“I hope you are not contemplating making contact with Ms. Lamb. A restraining order was issued against you, Mr. Brigham. Violating it would be unwise.”
“You’re right. It would look bad.” His resignation sounded phony. “All I want is to apologize and let her know my feelings have not changed. I still want her to be my wife.”
Jules had a feeling the plaintiff would be unmoved by this sentiment. She said, “Let me give you some advice. If you walk out of court a free man, put Ms. Lamb out of your mind and don’t look back.”
“Mommy said exactly the same thing.”
“Let’s be honest.” Jules attempted an argument that would make sense to any self-respecting narcissist. “Some women simply don’t know what is in their own best interests. Don’t let this one ruin your life.”
*
“I’m not expecting anyone.” Bonnie looked up from her accounts reconciliation when the doorbell rang.
Rhianna rose from the sofa, where she’d been reading
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
to Alice. “Maybe it’s old man Entwhistle coming over to apologize for being a jerk.”
Bonnie snorted. “Don’t hold your breath.”
Rhianna swung Alice onto her hip and padded through the house to the front door, Hadrian trailing her. He couldn’t hear the doorbell anymore, but he still performed guard-dog duty when he realized someone was there. He barked a couple of times, a low, deep sound that would scare the hell out of anyone.
When she looked up at the security monitor, Rhianna broke out in a smile and called, “Looks like your husband finally figured out that he screwed up over your hair. He’s sent you flowers.”
She heard the sound of Bonnie’s eager footsteps as she unlocked the door.
“Kate Lambert?” The FedEx driver on the porch held out an impressive bouquet.
Rhianna supposed such a delivery would normally command an ecstatic response, so her horrified gasp shocked the guy. He took a step back and glanced down at his delivery board.
Bonnie rescued him with a loud squeal. “Oh, my Lord.” She stepped past Rhianna to sign for the delivery. “They’re stunning.”
Rhianna lowered Alice to the floor. Her legs felt like they were about to crumple beneath her. Bile rose in her throat. She thought she was going to vomit on the highly polished floor.
Bonnie tipped the FedEx guy and closed the door after him, cradling the flowers like a newborn. “I don’t even know what these are,” she gushed, poking at a huge peony. “They’re like roses, only so much bigger, and those petals! To die for. Whoever sent these sure has the hots for you!”
Rhianna stared at the heavy wooden door. There was still time to stop the delivery van from driving away. She could tell the driver to take the flowers back where they came from, along with a message that there was no Kate Lambert at this address.
Bonnie finally noticed her silence. “Are you okay? You’re really pale.”
“Let me see the card,” Rhianna said, praying,
Please, God, don’t let them be from him.
Her shooting lessons had been going well, she thought distractedly. Maybe this was Percy’s idea of an incentive. She swept another quick look over the flowers. No. Definitely not. Fear tightened its grip on her gut, squeezing until she felt sweat ooze from her pores. Had he found her? Was it possible?
Werner Brigham came from money. That meant he could pay for someone to track her down. That was why she’d been so careful. Her lawyer had told her exactly what it would take to get Brigham out of her life. One of them had to die, or Rhianna Lamb had to vanish without a trace.
She stared down at the envelope and decided she was being ridiculous. It was addressed to Kate Lambert. Wasn’t that what she’d set out to do—to rebuild her life under a new identity? The flowers only proved one thing; she’d been successful. Someone thought “Kate” was a real person and had sent flowers to her.
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she extracted the card from the envelope and gingerly turned it over.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Jules
A cell-phone number was typed below.
“Who the heck is Jules and why haven’t I heard about him?” Bonnie was reading over her shoulder. “‘I can’t stop thinking about you!’ Oh, be still, my heart.”
Rhianna tucked the card hastily into the pocket of her shorts. How could this be happening to her?
Bonnie looked mortified all of a sudden. “They’re not from
him
, are they? The problem?”
“No. Jules is a friend.”
“A friend who blows serious money on a flower delivery and writes
that
in a card. Uh-huh.” Happy again, Bonnie set off toward the kitchen, holding the bouquet aloft so that Hadrian couldn’t chew on it. “We need to get these in water.”
Alice gripped the hem of Rhianna’s shorts and they both followed.
Bonnie lowered the flowers onto the counter and tenderly removed the cellophane. “Two vases, I think. There are so many.”
The flowers were truly gorgeous, and so romantic Rhianna felt a delicious thrill just looking at them. It almost didn’t matter that she had not given her last name to Jules, and that Jules had somehow found a way to track her down. Rhianna forced herself to think about that unpleasant fact. The woman had ignored her desire for anonymity and had deliberately invaded her privacy. What kind of person did that stuff? Rhianna knew only too well; she’d just escaped from one of them, and Werner Brigham used to send extravagant bouquets, too.
She stared down at the peonies, marveling over the baby-skin delicacy of their clumped ivory petals. A translucent blush of pink barely intruded on the budding inner core of each flower. Green straight iris stems peeped between the blooms, their dark purple tips just beginning to unfurl. The arrangement was set off with miniature rosebuds, all dark velvety red, none in bloom. It was hard to miss the symbolism. Jules had sent her a poem, written in flowers.
That was something Werner Brigham had never done. His opulent flower deliveries sent a message, and it wasn’t a subtle one. Huge sprays of Thai orchids, dozens of red roses reclining in a bath of baby’s breath, elaborate ikebana. They announced themselves as gestures from a man with money to throw away. There was no consistency, no thought of what might appeal to her. His choices were all about him.
Bonnie climbed the kitchen stepladder and passed a couple of large vases down from a high storage cupboard. “Arrange them out here if you want, then I’ll help you carry them to your apartment.”
“They’re kind of big for the apartment. Let’s keep them in the house.”
Bonnie gave her a long look. “Why don’t you invite Jules to come visit some time.” She had obviously attempted a casual air, but Rhianna could tell she was dying of curiosity. “Lloyd could take him fishing up the Colorado or whatever, so he wouldn’t be stuck here with us girls the whole time.”
Rhianna lifted Alice into her chair harness and secured the straps. She sliced an apple and set the pieces on a plate, arranged like a happy face, with a couple of raisins for eyes. Alice had a picky appetite and Rhianna had found the best way to tempt her was to make her meals fun. She could already imagine the adult Alice, fussy around the house, washing her hands often, spending too long reading the menu at restaurants.