Last Night (2 page)

There was something subtly sexy about Rob. Maybe it was his arresting smile. Or his limber athletic stride. Whateve
r it was, the female population
—despite his questionable reputation—adored him.

Even now one of the cute ADAs was scouring him with admiring glances.

Dana knew better. Rob Tagett was trouble, and any woman who allowed herself to become involved with him deserved what she got.

"Thrilled to see me, huh?
"
he asked with his familiar mix of Texas drawl and gall. "And here I walked all the way across the room to ask if you wanted to see my chicken.
"

"Rob, don
'
t unzip your pants. Your brains will fall out.
"

"Thanks,
"
he said with a grin that could have convinced the toughest jury that he
'
d just received a supreme compliment.

"Look, I can
'
t talk to you.
"
She shoved the sandwich aside, her appetite gone. "You
'
re covering my trial and the jury is out.
"

"S
'
okay. I
'
m not covering the Fowl Flasher. I kinda like the guy, though. Not your ordinary wienie-wagger, but a flasher with flair.
"

"Then why are you sitting in my court?
"

"
Parker's bailing out. The booze finally got to him. You
'
re up for his spot on the superior court.
"

"Really?
"
She tried to sound surprised, but obviously missed the mark, because he winked at her. The only way she could lie was to rehearse over and over and over. She
'
d done it; she could rise to the occasion. This time she
'
d been caught off-guard. "How
'
d you find out?
"

He shrugged, his powerful shoulders stretching
the cotton fabric of his polo shirt. "Jungle drums
.
You know how it is. I heard about it two days ago."

She silently fumed; Gwen had found out only this morning, while Rob had known for days. No doubt he
'
d hopped in the sack with one of the secretaries. They always knew everything first.

"I'm here to get a statement from you.
"

"No comment.
"
Did he really think she
'
d talk to him? Rob had a weekly column called "Exposed.
"
It was devoted to controversial issues. He loved to blow the whistle on government waste and foul-ups. Just having your name appear in his column was the kiss of death.

"You stand a good chance of getting appointed, you know.
"
He leaned forward, balancing his weight on the back two chair legs.
"
I
'
d hate to lose you. Most of the other judges around here are so ugly they could haunt a house and charge by the room.
"

She didn
'
t acknowledge the backhanded compliment. She knew she was passable, but not pretty. Her sister, Vanessa, now there was pretty—beautiful, actually. It was a leap of faith to think they were even from the same gene pool.

Ever mindful of the testosterone brigade who ran the judicial system, Dana strived for a professional appearance. Glasses instead of contacts made her look older, more like a judge, and kept her green eyes from appearing so large. Cutting her warm brown hair into a wedge that brushed her chin gave her a no-nonsense look. She dressed carefully, conservatively, in keeping with her position—except for her underwear. She adored lacy, feminine undies, the frillier the better.

Now Rob
'
s grin was positively wicked.
"
None of the other judges pulls their robes up to the tops of their thighs during a trial."

"
It was broiling—
"
She snapped her mouth shut, realizing he couldn
'
t possibly have seen anything. The judge
'
s bench was totally enclosed. But Rob was smart, too smart for his own darn good.
"
You
'
re a real jerk, you know.
"

"
Let me get back to you on that.
"
He winked at her again, then straightened, bringing his chair to rest on all four legs again.
"
I have tickets for the Eagles' concert—front row.
"

Dana stifled a gasp. He wasn
'
t asking her out, was he? Well, it didn't matter. Rob might be sexy and devastatingly masculine, the kind of man who made you dream about him at night, but she couldn
'
t go out with him. The last thing her career needed right now—when she was up for that coveted spot on the bench—was to become involved with a cut-throat reporter.

Oh, go on, Dana, admit it. It
'
s more than the appointment that's keeping you from going out with Rob.
Something about him frightened her. Maybe it was that he was unpredictable; maybe it was something more.

She
'
d first met Rob at the cocktail party the DA threw to celebrate her appointment to the court three years earlier. She'd heard the ugly rumors
about him, of course, but she didn
'
t pay much atten
tion to gossip. Still, she wondered why he
'
d left the police force so suddenly, then become a reporter. She
'
d been attracted to Rob and thought he'd liked her too. A week later he wrote the article that triggered a cry of public outrage that still echoed in her ears.

"
You interested in seeing the Eagles?
"
Rob repeated, his tone now serious.

She picked up her purse and scooted her chair back from the table. "Thanks, but I
'
m busy.
"

"I haven
'
t even said which night yet.
"

Oh, boy, he was going to press it. If she refused, was he going to crucify her in print? Again?

"
Still sore about that article I wrote?
"

"
Of course not,
"
she said a little too quickly. He wasn
'
t fooled.

"
You hate me, don
'
t you?
"

"
Hate you? No. I like you. I
'
ve always gone for creeps.
"

T
hat evening when Dana drove behind Diamond Head to her home on Maunalua Bay, she was still cursing her sharp tongue. Really, what had gotten into her? She had walked away as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but not before she
'
d seen the look in Rob
'
s eyes. He wouldn
'
t forget the insult.

What was wrong with her? She really must need this vacation. Lately she
'
d lost her temper much too easily. It
'
s the pressure, she silently cried. No, it was more than that. It was the isolation.

When she
'
d been in the DA
'
s office she'd had lots of friends. Well, not friends exactly, just people to go out to lunch or dinner with. Now she couldn
'
t see those lawyers and have them try cases in her court. Of course, some judges did, but it wasn
'
t proper. Dana always did things by the book. She always had.

She was too busy to be lonely, too ambitious to be lonely—or so she told herself. Once in a while something would trigger a wellspring of emptiness buried inside her like the secret life beneath the surface in the Wyland painting. Somehow, just seeing Rob made her lonely.

He was nothing like the men she admired. The ideal man was intellectual. Sensitive. Safe. Everything Rob Tagett wasn
'
t. Like a lone wolf, Rob had an elusiveness about him, a hint of risk and adventure. And danger.

She slowed her car as she rounded the corner overlooking Maunalua Bay, catching her breath as she always did at its beauty. The sun had slipped behind Diamond Head, leaving the bay in a purple twilight and firing the clouds with amber and gold. On the point, cloaked in early evening shadows, was Koko Head. A smaller version of Diamond Head, the ancient volcano stood like a lonely sentinel guarding Maunalua Bay. To Dana, Koko Head was as majestic as Diamond Head, yet friendlier, the symbol of the back bay.

Buying a home here had been a stretch. Right out of law school she
'
d gone into the DA
'
s office. She
'
d
always been a public-service employee. It had taken her years to pay off her student loans.

When she was finally out of debt she began saving for a house. The o
ther judges had come from lucra
tive private practices and lived in luxurious high rises or at the foot of Diamond Head in the ritzy Kahala area. She didn
'
t envy them. Maunalua Bay might not be as prestigious, but she preferred the serenity of the back bay.

As she stopped in her driveway and stepped out of her car to get the mail, her friend came running over. Lillian Hurley was a widow in her mid
-
eighties who
'
d lived here since Pearl Harbor. She was a trifle forgetful at times, so Dana helped her, making it possible for Lillian to live at home.

Tears pooled in Lillian
'
s eyes.
"
My daughter
'
s coming to visit.
"

"
Wonderful."
Dana gave her a quick hug and hoped the tears were tears of happiness. She
'
d long since decided the daughter was strange. What kind of a person forgot Mother
'
s Day? In the three years Dana had lived here the daughter had never visited,
"
Don
'
t forget to mark the date on your calendar.
"

"
I did already—just the way you told me.
"
Tears spilled out of Lillian
'
s pale blue eyes.
"
I don
'
t want to go into a nursing home.
"

"
I
'
m sure when you explain to your daughter that I
'
m working with your doctor, she
'
ll understand that you
'
re fine here.
"
Dana hugged her again.

It was true—for now—but Dana knew the day would come when Lillian would need more help
than she could give. That
'
s what happens to the elderly, she thought. They
'
re warehoused, lonely and forgotten, until they die. An American tragedy. She wasn
'
t letting that happen to Lillian.

"
Will you talk to Fran for me?
"

"
Of course.
"
Dana smiled reassuringly, silently pledging to take time out of her busy schedule to talk to the daughter. "Don
'
t worry. I
'
ll take care of it.
"

"
I knew you'd help me. That
'
s why I came over.
"
She looked around suspiciously as if she expected someone to jump out of the dense oleander bushes.
"
I
'
m so frightened.
"

"Of what?
"
A frisson of alarm shot through Dana. This was just Lillian's nerves, wasn
'
t it? Dana moved here because this was a safe neighborhood. They weren
'
t having trouble, were they? During the past year the Panama Jack
'
s rapist had attacked several women. Dana had always been careful. Now she kept pepper spray in her purse.

"
I
'
m so-o-o frightened,
"
Lillian repeated. "Last night I heard the night marchers. I
'
m going to die.
"
Oh, boy, Dana said to herself. How could Lillian believe that island lore? According to superstition the restless spirits of Hawaii
'
s ancient warriors marched at night. If you heard them someone was going to die.