Mouth open, Donna sucked in air. She could not breathe and she thought she would die. Nothing but air mattered. Her lungs filled and a sob escaped from her As her breath returned, she was gripped by terror.
Donna rolled on her side and saw her husband put on his jacket. By the time she could speak, he was gone.
Had Steve really hit her? It seemed incredible, even though she knew it was true. Donna curled up on the floor and tried to piece together what had happened from the moment she opened the front door. What had she done to deserve a beating? She was late, but that was because she was helping Gary and Peter. She was sorry she was late. She was sorry dinner wasn't ready.
Sorry, sorry, sorry. But did she deserve to be beaten because she was late with Steve's dinner? There must be something else, but what could she have done, that was so awful that it had driven her husband to hit her?
Donna asked that question over and over as she lay sobbing on the living room floor.
Chapter FIFTEEN.
When Donna awoke, it was to the scent of roses. The pungent smell confused her, because there hadn't been any roses in her bedroom when she had finally passed out from exhaustion, alone, in the early hours of the morning. Donna sat up to find every inch of the bed, the floor and the furniture covered by roses of every color and her husband sitting in a corner of the room watching her. Memories of the night before flooded in. Donna shrank back against the headboard.
Steve was unshaven. His clothes appeared to have been slept in. There was no anger in him. Only contrition. He walked over to Donna and knelt by the side of the bed on a carpet of red and yellow roses. His head hung down.
"I have no excuse for what I did to you. All I can do is explain why it happened and pray for your- forgiveness."
The rose fragrance was overpowering in the closed room. The memory of her husband looming above her as his blows rained on her body was vivid and frightening. But Steve seemed so chastened that Donna let him try to explain his savage attack.
"I'd been drinking. I started in the afternoon and never stopped." Mancini paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "The bank turned down the Mountain View loan." There were tears in Steve's eyes, but Donna was still too frightened of him to move. "I didn't know what to do," he sobbed, and Donna's heart began to break. "We could be ruined. I sank everything I had into that project."
Her husband raised his eyes to hers. He looked so sad.
"Can you ever forgive me? I was so full of anger and so afraid, but I should never have taken it out on you.
Please, Donna, I don't want to lose you."
"Where ... where have you been?" Donna asked, as she tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts and emotions.
"I drove around for hours thinking about what I'd done. When I was too tired to drive anymore I pulled into the first motel I saw, but I couldn't sleep. I felt so bad about ... about hurting you. God, how could I have hit you?"
Mancini's face crumpled. Kneeling by the bed, his head down, framed in the multihued bouquets of roses, Steve looked like a little boy. Donna reached out and touched him on the cheek. He took her hand and pressed his lips to the palm, then pressed it against his cheek again.
"I'm sorry about the loan," Donna said, "but we'll pull through. You have your practice and your brains and you have me."
Steve looked at Donna with the rapt glow of a supplicant whose prayers have been answered. Then, he squeezed her hand and wiped away the tears that had clouded his vision.
"Thank you, Donna. I should have known you'd stand by me. But I was so depressed. I wanted Mountain View to succeed so much."
"I love you, Steve. I don't need Mountain View to be happy."
"You don't understand. I want to do things for you that I can't do now. I wanted us to be important, not just in Whitaker, but everywhere. If Mountain View is successful, we'll be rich. But now .. Mancini shook :10'"
his head slowly. "I don't think we can make tapped out and I can't think of any place to turn for money, now that the bank's turned us down.II "Maybe .. ." Donna started. Mancini looked up at her. "I could talk to my father.. .
"Oh no, Donna, I couldn't ask you to do that,"
"How much money do you need?"
"I'd have to talk to my partners," Mancini answered excitedly. "If we could buy some of the property instead of having it on option, we might get Whitaker Savings to rethink the loan."
Mancini stood up and sat next to Donna on the bed.
They fell into each other's arms and Steve hugged her to his chest.
"I don't deserve you, Donna. What I did can't be excused. I must have been out of my mind."
"Just hold me," Donna said,.not wanting to think about the horror of the past evening.
"I Will. III I hold you forever. And I swear to you that I will never, ever hurt you again."
"I don't think this is important," Eric Polk told Dennis Downes, "but I figured,-better safe than sorry, so I had Wilma come down."
Eric was also on the Whitaker police force, but he was several years older than Downes and was not working on the Harmon case, "How you doin', Wilma," Downes said, smiling at Eric's wife.
"Just fine. How are Till and Todd?"
"Damn kid of mine runs me ragged. He's only ten and he's almost as big as me."
"I heard he's tearing up Little League," Eric said.
"Don't get me started on Todd or I'll chew off your ear. So, what do you have for me, Wilma?"
Wilma Polk was a heavyset woman in her mid-fiffies with curly gray hair and a round, pleasant face, who was not used to being the center of attention.
"It's probably nothing. I'd even forgotten about it until Eric said something about Donna Harmon's wedit just popped into my head."
ding and, well, "Go ahead, Wilma," her husband said.
"Mabel Dawes and I were over by the food table at Donna Harmon's wedding reception. We were talking about the murder because Eric had been at the scene that morning. Gary was nearby and he must have overheard us. He came over and started talking about the murder, too."
"What did he say?" Downes asked.
"I've tried to remember exactly, but it's been a while, and I wasn't really interested at the time."
"Just give me the gist . , if you can't remember the exact words."
"He didn't get to say much, because Eric came up and interrupted us."
"We were due at Mary's at two and it was one-thirty, so we had to get moving," Eric explained. "It was Kenny s third birthday." , :"SO, go ahead," Downes prodded as he jotted down some notes about the time of the conversation.
"As I remember, I was saying something about Eric being at the crime scene.
I believe I had 'just explained J about the horrible wounds when Gary walked over. He said he had seen the girl at the Stallion, the night before.
I was about to ask him some more about the girl when Eric reminded me of the time."
"How did Gary seem Was he nervous, excited?".
"He didn't seem nervous. Maybe a little excited, but we all were. The murder is very frightening."
"Okay," Downes said, smiling at Wilma as he scribbled some more notes. Thanks for dropping by. I'll write a report about the conversation for the D.A."
Eric Polk escorted his wife out of Downes's office.
Downes looked at his watch. It was time for a coffee break. He decided to dictate his report on his interview with Wilma Polk, then see if anyone wanted to go over to Mels Car& for a piece of pie and a cup of coffee. He was finishing the dictation when the phone rang.
"Dennis, are you busy?" Becky O'Shay asked.
"I wa& going out for a cup of coffee. Why?"
"Put the coffee on hold. I just received a call from the jail. One of the prisoners, claims Gary Harmon confessed to him. I want you to come along with me. If this pans out, I'll buy the coffee and treat you to lunch."
"The last time you escaped justice by a nose, Mr. Booth," Becky O'Shay said with a smirk, "but your luck seems to have run out."
Booth flushed with anger and looked at the floor, afraid to let O'Shay see the hatred in his eyes. He could not stand being humiliated by a woman, but he was in no position to do anything about it.
"I understand you have something for us."
"Yeah, I got something. What I want to know is what I get in return."
"What do you want?"
Booth licked his lips. His right foot could not stop tapping and Booth could not sit still. Withdrawal, O'Shay thought immediately. She bet every nerve in Booth's body felt like a live wire. When he looked u O'Shay read stark terror on Booth's face.
"I want witness protection. I want to go somewhere Rafael Vargas and Chris Mammon can't get me."
"That's asking a lot. Your beef's federal. I don't know if they'll go along, even if I wanted to."
"Hey," Booth pleaded, "I'm small potatoes. I'm nothing. The feds don't want me. I'm an undersize catch. But I can deliver Mammon or Vargas and I can ice Gary Harmon."
"Tell me about Harmon."
Booth shook his head vigorously from side to side.
"Uh uh. What do you take me for? I'm not giving up anything until I know I'm going to be protected."
O'Shay turned to Dennis Downes. "Can we transfer Mr. Booth to the jail in Stark?"
"We've done that before. Sheriff Tyler will keep you warm and comfy, Kevin. They got a nice security wing.
Real modern."
"I don't care where I go, as long as it's away from anyone connected with Rafael Vargas."
"I'll check to see if any of his people are incarcerated in Stark. If there's a problem, I've got another couple ideas."
"So, Mr. Booth?" O'Shay asked.
"What about my deal? If I talk, what do I get?"
"Let me explain something to you. If we make a deal before you testify it will affect the value of your evidence. The first thing Peter Hale will ask you on cross examination is what reward you're getting for your testimony. If you can say that you, are testifying as a service to humanity, it will make you much more believable."
"You want me to testify for nothing?"
"I didn't say that, did I?"
"No, but..
"Do you think I'll let you down if you come through for me?"
Booth licked his lips. O'Shay made him very nervous and she was so sexy it was distracting.
"How do I know you won't screw me? What if I testify and you lose anyway?
I need a guarantee."
"You need help, Mr. Booth, and the only person in the galaxy who can help you is sitting in front of you in this room. Do you want my help?"
"Yeah. That's why I'm here."
"Good. Then we'll do things my way or not at all. If you ask for anything in return for your testimony, I'll walk out of here. If you want to be a good citizen and help me out, I'll be very receptive to any pleas for assistance you might make after Harmon's trial."
"Man, I don't know. I don't like this."
"You don't have to like it, Mr. Booth. You only have to accept the fact that you have no choice but to do as I say. Right now, I would appreciate hearing a summary of what you can tell me about Harmon."
Booth didn't trust O'Shay, but he realized he had no choice.
"Gary confessed to me. He told me he done it."
"Why would he do that?"
"I've known Gary since high school. He thinks I'm his friend. He's so fuckin' dumb, it was easy. At first, he denied doin' it, but I told him it took balls to commit murder. I built him up. Gary's such a retard, he never figured out what I was doin'. Soon, I had him bragging about how good it felt to snuff Whiley."
"That's certainly interesting, but how do we know you're not making up this whole story? You're facing a long sentence in a federal prison, you have some very scary people mad at you. That's a lot of motivation to lie."
Booth looked wild-eyed. He felt his only chance at safety and freedom slipping away.
"I ain't lying. This is the truth. He spilled his guts to me.
"Maybe he did, but I only have your word for that.
Unless you can give me something concrete, something that proves Harmon killed Sandra Whiley, your testimony will be useless."
Booth put his hands to his head. He closed his eyes and shifted on his seat.
"Let me think," he begged.
O'Shay felt disgust for Booth, but she did not let it show. If Harmon really.had confessed to Booth, Booth's testimony would be very important to her case. Now that the first flush of excitement had faded, she realized that her case was not as strong as she first imagined ' Although she would argue that Harmon's statements to Downes contained so much detail that he had to be the killer, Harmon had not really confessed to killing Whiley. And there was the problem of the blood, or lack of it. Police technicians had not found any of Whiley's blood on Harmon's clothes or in his house. And the murder weapon was still missing.
Suddenly, Booth's face lit up. "I got it , he said. "I got something solid. Something that will prove I'm not lying."
Peter watched Clara Schoen leave Amos Geary's office from the coffee shop across the street. Geary had left half an hour before. Peter gave it fifteen minutes more to be certain Clara would not return before scurrying across to the law office.
Peter felt a little bit like a thief, though he had convinced himself that there was nothing wrong with clearing out his own belongings from his own office after everyone was gone. He wasn't taking anything that wasn't his and coming in when Geary wasn't there would prevent a nasty scene. Everyone was better off this way.
Peter had brought an empty liquor carton with him.
He set it on the desk and was filling it with law books and personal items when he looked up to find Amos Geary watching him from the doorway.
"He ... hello, Mr. Geary," Peter said with an uneasy smile.
Geary shook his head slowly.
"You are some piece of work." Geary's voice was filled more with sadness than anger. "How are you going to defend a man's life when you don't even have the guts to leave my office in broad daylight?"
"I ... Uh, I was, uh, going to drop in tomorrow to, uh, thank you for ..