death eliminated her as the actual murderer, she must
have been involved to some extent.
These thoughts were so dreary, so absorbing, they
were almost immobilizing. He had lost all sense of
where he was. He was thinking about disbarment, not
dismemberment. When he reached the alley where he
had left his car, he used the keyless door lock and
opened the driver's door without even glancing
around to see if it was safe.
Startled by sudden movement behind him, he reacted
quickly. He came around in a blur of motion,
his arm raised, ready to protect and defend himself.
He came close to striking Alex before arresting the
momentum of his arm.
"What the hell!" Reflexively he scanned the immediate
area, only now becoming aware of the dark,
menacing surroundings. "What the hell are you doing
in this neighborhood?"
"I followed her here."
"Who?"
Green eyes snapped angrily. "Who do you think,
Hammond? The woman you hired to follow me."
"Shit!"
"My sentiment exactly," she said heatedly. "I
thought it was strange that the same tourist came
down my street twice in one day taking pictures of
my house. First this morning, then again shortly after
Smilow's raiders left. On my way home from that humiliating
interrogation this afternoon, I stopped at the
supermarket. She was there, too, trying to look interested
in watermelons. It finally dawned on me that I
was under surveillance."
"Not surveillance."
"True. That would imply professionalism. While
this is classless, gutless, ordinary spying."
"Alex--"
"So I dodged her, doubled back, turned the tables,
and started following her. I thought Detective
Smilow must be behind it. Imagine my surprise when
you showed up to meet her here."
"Don't put me on a level with Smilow."
"Oh, you're much lower than Mr. Smilow," she
said, her voice cracking with mounting emotion.
"You're sneakier. More underhanded. You sleep with
me first."
"It's not like that."
"Really? Then what is it like? Which part is inaccurate?
Is she a policewoman?"
"Private investigator."
"Even worse. You paid her to snoop on me."
"Okay, you caught me," he said, his anger rising to
match hers. "You're a very clever lady, Dr. Ladd."
"Did you two have a nice chat about me?"
"There wasn't anything nice about it, but what she
dug up on you was damned interesting. Especially
the records from Tennessee."
She closed her eyes and reeled slightly. But she re
covered quickly, reopened her eyes, and told him to
go to hell.
She turned on her heel, but Hammond caught her
arm and brought her back around. "What she dredged
up about you isn't my fault, Alex. When I hired her,
I thought I was doing us both a favor."
"In God's name, how?"
"I had hoped, stupidly, that she would find something
exculpatory. But that was before you started
lying to the police with every breath, and painting
yourself into inescapable corners."
"Would you rather I had told them the truth?"
She had asked him the same question when they
accidently met in the elevator. He'd had no answer
for her. But since then he had given it a lot of thought.
"It doesn't matter that we spent Saturday night together."
"Then why haven't you told them? When I was
being put through that humiliating interrogation
about my dirty laundry, literally, why did you just
stand there? Why didn't you tell them everything, including
who broke into my house last night and
stained my sheets?"
"Because it's irrelevant."
She laughed without mirth. "You're delusional,
Solicitor Cross. Even given your brilliance, I think
you would have a hard time persuading anyone of its
irrelevance. And while we're on the subject, I explained
away the bloods But there's only one explanation
for semen. Which wouldn't have been there if
you'd worn some protection."
"I didn't think about it." Lowering his face close
to hers, he added on an angry whisper, "And neither
did you." He knew he had scored on that round when
she averted her face. "Besides, one has nothing to do
with the other."
She looked back at him. "I have trouble following
that logic."
"Our sleeping together has no bearing on the
case." If he could convince her, he might be able to
convince someone else. He might even come to believe
it himself. "I've been thinking about it. Last
Saturday, you could have murdered Pettijohn before
leaving Charleston."
She sucked in a quick breath, and folded her arms
across her middle as though a pain had just shot
through her. "That's what you've been thinking? You
said the time of death didn't fit."
"Because I didn't want it to."
"And now you do?"
"You killed him, then finagled our meeting to establish
an alibi."
"I told you last night, I did not kill Pettijohn."
"Right, right. Like you didn't fuck him, either."
Once again, she spun around to leave. Hammond's
arm shot out. This time, she put up more of a struggle.
"Damn you! Let me go!"
He turned her around and trapped her in the wedge
formed by the open car door. In order for her to escape
she would either have to go around or through
him. He was determined that she would hear him out
first. "I don't want to think that, Alex."
"Well, gee, thanks. I'm so glad you don't want to
think of me as a slut and a murderer."
"What else am I supposed to believe?"
"Believe anything you like, just leave me alone."
"All along, even when it stretched credibility, I've
been giving you the benefit of the doubt. Until tonight." He opened his jacket far enough for her to
see the envelope inside his breast pocket.
Suddenly she ceased to struggle. She stared at the
envelope for a moment, and he saw her lips twitch
with what looked like remorse. But to her credit,
when she raised her eyes to his, they were defiant and
proud. "Juicy reading?"
"Damaging. Very damaging. This is the ammunition
they need to nail you."
"Then why are you standing here talking to me?"
"Smilow will take this and run with it."
"So call him up. Give him the lowdown. You got
what you wanted, what you paid for."
"I'm giving you a chance to explain it."
"I rather imagine it's self-explanatory."
"So I'm supposed to take it at face value?"
"I don't give a damn how you take it."
"Okay. I'll interpret it the only way I can." He
pressed his lower body against her. "It means you've
come a long way, baby."
Her composure and hauteur deserted her. With
both hands, she pushed hard against his chest. "Get
away from me."
He didn't yield. "What this indicates to me is that last Saturday night was more than a simple seduction."
"I didn't seduce you."
"Like hell, but we've been through that before.
You're implicated in a felony crime, and you deliberately
drew me in. Why, Alex? You intentionally created
a conflict of interest for me as a prosecutor. You
made me part of it--whatever the hell it is."
"There is no 'it.' There never was. Not until Lute
Pettijohn turned up dead."
"Was he in on it?"
"Aren't you listening?" she cried.
"Was I the target of his last scheme? Was he plotting
my downfall when he was murdered?"
"I don't know. His being murdered had nothing to
do with me."
"I wish I could believe that. Our meeting was not
accidental, Alex. You've admitted that much."
She tried to sidestep him, but he blocked her and
placed his hands on her shoulders.
"You're not leaving until I get to the truth. How
did you know I would be at that fair?"
She shook her head.
"How did you know?"
She remained stubbornly mute.
"Tell me, Alex. How did you know I was going
there? You couldn't have. The only way you could
have known is if--" Suddenly he broke off. He gave
her a hard, piercing look and gripped her shoulders
tighter.
Her eyes spoke eloquently to his.
"You followed me there," he said quietly.
She hesitated for what seemed an interminable
time before slowly nodding her head. "Yes. I followed
you from the Charles Towne Plaza."
CHAPTER
26
You've known all this time that I was there?"
"Yes!"
"With Pettijohn?"
"Right again."
"And you didn't say anything? Why?"
"If I told you now, you wouldn't believe me."
Looking straight at his jacket, she stared at it as
though she could see through the fabric to the envelope
inside the breast pocket. She was angry. But she
also appeared profoundly sad.
"That's an ugly report, but it can't come close to
capturing how ugly it was in reality. You can't begin
to imagine." Her eyes moved back up to his. "I'll be
judged on a damn report, not on what I am now."
"I won't--"
"You already have," she said hotly. "I see it in the
way you're looking at me and I hear it in your nasty
insinuations. It's easy to judge from your lofty position,
isn't it? You of the wealthy family with the
pedigree. Have you ever gone hungry for days on
end, Hammond? Been cold because the utility bill
hadn't been paid? Gone dirty because there was no
soap to wash with?"
He tried to reach for her, but she flung off his arm.
"No, don't pity me. Sometimes I'm glad for it because
it made me strong. It made me who I am, made
me better at helping people. Because nothing they
tell me shocks me. I'm wholly accepting of people
and their aberrations, because until you've been
where someone else has been, you've no right to
judge their behavior.
"Until you've gone hungry, and suffered humiliation,
and come to hate yourself for what you're
doing .. . until you come to believe you're filth, unworthy
of anyone's love, of a man's love--"
She stopped and sucked in a quick breath that
caused her chest to shudder. Then she sniffed her
nose and tossed her head in defiance of the tears
streaming down her cheeks. "Happy reading, Hammond."
She pushed him aside and stalked off, turning the
corner and out of the alley. Hammond watched her
go, knowing that nothing he said now would reach
beyond her anger. He cursed, braced his elbow on
the roof of the car, and rested his head on his forearm.
But the respite lasted only a few seconds.
A muffled cry brought his head up and around.
Alex was running back into the alley. A man was
chasing her.
"He's got a knife!" she shouted.
The attacker grabbed her by the hair, jerking her
to a sudden halt. He raised his arm and Hammond
saw the glint of steel. Without even thinking about it,
he launched himself against the attacker, his shoul
der catching him beneath his rib cage and knocking
him off-balance.
In order to keep from falling, the man released
Alex. She scrambled out of the way. Hammond
barely had time to register that she was momentarily
out of harm's way when he saw a flash of silver arcing
horizontally toward his middle. Acting on reflex,
he protected his belly with his arm. The switchblade
sliced it open from elbow to wristbone.
Unarmed, in a knife fight, he would lose. The
only self-defense he knew, he'd learned playing
football. To please his father, he had played with a
bloodthirsty competitiveness.
Instinctually, he relied now on a blocking tactic
that was effective if you could get away with it and
not draw a flag from the official. He thrust his head
forward as though he were going to ram his attacker
in the throat but stopped just short of making contact.
The mugger reacted as hoped by jerking his
head backward, leaving his Adam's apple vulnerable
to Hammond's ramming forearm. He knew it hurt
like hell and would incapacitate the mugger for a
precious few seconds.
"Get in the car!" he yelled to Alex.
Hammond thrust his foot toward the man's groin
but missed and caught him in the thigh. The kick
didn't do any real damage, but it bought him another
half second in which to run backward toward the car
while dodging slashing motions of the switchblade.
Alex had gotten in through the open door on the
driver's side and climbed over the console. He practi
cally fell into the driver's seat, then leaned backward
across the console and drove his heel into the guy's
gut. The mugger stumbled backward but managed
another swipe with the blade. Hammond heard the
fabric of his trousers rip.
Lunging for the door handle, he pulled the door
closed and locked it. His attacker, having rapidly regained
his balance, pounded on the window and
door, shouting obscenities and death threats.