At the River’s Edge The Chesapeake Diaries (14 page)

He was on the verge of pleading. If she’d ever had a
thought about getting back together—of giving Chris another chance—this was her opportunity.

Her mind replayed the moment when he’d opened the back door of the BMW and stepped out with his zipper in his hands, of the flash of pain that had shot through her, of the pain that had stayed with her.

Just then, the lobby door opened and a figure emerged and paused on the top step. Backlit, the figure was in shadow, but there was no mistaking the form. Through the space that separated them, Sophie felt his gaze lock on hers, and the thought occurred to her that there were men who would cheat, and men who would not. The man on the phone had already proven which kind of man he was.

“Well, see, Chris, here’s the thing about the past. There’s no undoing it.”

“Sophie …”

“Are you still seeing Anita?”

His silence spoke for him.

“That’s what I thought.”

“It’s you I really want. If I could only make you see …”

He was starting to sound desperate. Funny how his desperation seemed to ease the pain she’d been feeling up until that moment. Funny how she was able to see him as he really was, once that veil of pain began to lift.

“I saw enough. In the parking garage.”

“I said I was sorry. It never should have happened.”

“Like I said, there’s no undoing it.” She blew out a long breath. Time to cut this conversation off before it went any further. “Anything else I should know about? In regards to the case?”

The pause was just a few beats too long.

“What? What else?”

“Joe reassigned the case.”

“What?
What?
Reassigned it? Why? Who?”

There was an awkward silence.

“Why. And who,” she demanded.

“Well, Joe thought it shouldn’t be switched back and forth, so he decided that going forward, the case should stay with the ADA who handled the matter today.”

“
You?
You took my case? Knowing how I feel about this case, you allowed him to take it from me and you took it yourself?” Her voice lowered to a growl. “You bastard.”

“Ahhh, no.” He cleared his throat. “No, it wasn’t reassigned to me.”

“Then why are you …”

All of a sudden, she got it.

“Who, Chris? Say it.”

“Well … Anita didn’t have a case on the docket this week, so …”

“Thanks for the call.”

Sophie punched
end call
and stared helplessly at the ground. She’d lived and breathed this case for the past two months. The thirteen-year-old girl’s story had broken her heart. She was a good kid living in a bad situation: divorced parents, her mother remarried, a seventeen-year-old stepbrother whose unsavory friends had been quick to notice the pretty, shy, studious eighth grader.

Sophie had been adamant that the victim pursue the criminal case, and to have it fall apart now felt to her that the girl was being assaulted all over again.

To have it fall apart in Anita Hayes’s hands made the intolerable all the worse.

Her breath came in short, angry spurts, and she wondered why she didn’t feel like screaming. Instead, she felt cold inside, helpless, sad, and stunned. She barely noticed the hot tears that ran down her face.

“Damn,”
she whispered to the cool night air, still in shock, not quite sure if she was damning Christopher, Anita Hayes, the three rapists, the DA, Judge Winston—or herself, for having left town when she did.
“Damn …”

Jason had watched the door, wondering where Sophie had gotten to and if she was coming back. He’d been just about to ask her to meet him for a drink after he dropped off her grandfather when she disappeared, her phone in her hand, a solemn look on her face. He’d waited several minutes before following her into the lobby, but Sophie was nowhere to be seen. He was about to go back into the auditorium when he saw her on the sidewalk in front of the school. She stood ramrod straight, her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the night sky. He stepped outside and paused for a moment on the steps.

“Let me guess,” he said as he began to close the distance between them. “Counting falling stars.”

She turned to him, her expression unreadable.

“Hey, is something wrong?” He was close enough to see the tears that slid down her cheeks.

Uh-oh
, he thought. Guy trouble, if he had to guess.
Figures. All the really great women seem to have a guy in the background somewhere
. Did he really think that a woman like Sophie would be unattached?

“I … yes, fine.” She nodded, even though it was apparent to anyone with eyes that she wasn’t fine at all. “I just needed some air. It’s stuffy and crowded in there.”

“Stuffy and crowded go with the territory,” he agreed.

They stood in silence for a moment. It was obvious that she wanted to be alone—she’d come out here to be alone, and here he was, intruding on whatever it was she was wanting to be alone about. He felt awkward and uncertain of what to say or how to remove himself without sounding even more lame than he already felt.

“Could you do me a favor?” she asked. Before he could respond, she said, “Please tell Jesse I drove back to his place and I’ll talk to him in the morning.”

“I’ll tell him, but are you sure you’re okay?” Even though he knew she wasn’t, even though he knew she’d deny it. Whatever happened had made her so sad that it was hard for Jason to meet her eyes. There was so much pain there. “Can I drive you …”

“I have my car, thanks.”

“Is there something I can do?”

“No, no. But thank you.” She tried to force a smile, but her lips were trembling.

“Aw, Sophie …” His arms reached out and drew her in. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry it’s made you so sad.”

“It’s all right.”

“If it were all right, you wouldn’t be crying.” He held her very gently, as if she were made of fine crystal and she’d shatter if he held her too tightly. But for a moment, it felt like she belonged there, that she
was exactly where she was supposed to be. “I’m not going to ask, but whatever it is, if there’s anything I can do …”

“You can’t.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “But thank you.”

“Look, if you ever want to talk …” He tried to hold onto it, but the moment had passed, and he felt her begin to slip away from him. “How ’bout I drive you home? Or someplace where we can sit and talk until you feel a little better?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Thanks, Jason, but I think I need to be alone right now. It’s just something I have to work out for myself.” Without looking at him, she took off for the parking lot, her back still straight, her pace clipped and steady though she’d looked anything but.

She looked like someone who was running away.

Yeah, guy trouble
.

Jason didn’t know who and he didn’t know what, but he did know that whoever the guy was who’d caused such sadness was a total asshole who didn’t deserve her.

He wished he could have found the right words to comfort her. Instead, she’d walked away with whatever pain she was feeling still tucked deep inside her and he’d been powerless to help.

Jason watched until she located her car, got in, and drove from the lot before going back inside to deliver her message.

Chapter 10

S
OPHIE
sat in the dark on a chair in Jesse’s living room, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, her thoughts a jumble. Hearing Chris’s voice had been jarring. She’d been determined to put her relationship with him behind her, but like a bad penny, he’d come right back.

Oh, his apology had sounded sincere enough, but a little time, a little distance, and she saw him now in a totally different light. If not for having to break the news to her about the case, would he have called at all? Did he really think that he could talk her into giving him another chance, even while all systems were apparently still go with Anita? Was he crazy?

As far as Sophie was concerned, the import of his apology paled compared to the news he’d delivered about her case.

More accurately, that would be Anita’s case now, she reminded herself.

God, but that frosted her!

She sought comfort in the knowledge that by dropping the charges at this juncture, there was always the
possibility that if evidence was discovered in the future, the case could be revisited, but she knew how likely that was—and she knew she wouldn’t be the one to refile the charges.

She heard Jesse’s key turn in the front door lock, heard him in the foyer where she’d left the light on. He grew still for a moment, listening, she suspected, for sounds of life in the quiet house. There was a slight thunk, the sound of Jesse’s briefcase on the hardwood floor when he dropped it near the stairwell, his customary spot. His footsteps trailed down the hall to the kitchen. A moment later, she heard the refrigerator open—Jesse on the hunt for a snack, no doubt, something more substantial than the cookies and punch they served at the school reception.

Sophie wondered what Jason told her brother when she didn’t return to the science fair. She’d had such mixed emotions when she realized that Jason had followed her outside. She was totally embarrassed that he found her in such a state of turmoil, and yet, at the same time, she’d been grateful that he had. Just for a moment or two, the comfort he’d offered her had eased her heart, and just for a moment, there’d been that
zing
again.

When she heard Jesse in the hall, she sunk back into the chair, as if by doing so, she’d disappear inside the paisley fabric. As an attorney, Jesse would totally understand how she felt about her case. But she just wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, not even Jess, about anything that had happened that night. He turned off the hall light and climbed the steps to the second floor. It wasn’t until she heard his bedroom door open
and close that she let out the breath she’d been holding.

She wondered who had told the thirteen-year-old girl that her rapists were going free.

She sat in the dark amidst the night sounds, a creak from something here, a squeak of something there, the wind whistling through the trees and slapping against the exterior brick walls, while she thought things through—Chris and her job and her future. Another hour passed before she tiptoed up the stairs to her room and, tossing her pants and sweater onto a chair, crawled into bed in her underwear.

When she awoke in the morning, Jesse was gone and fat, wet snowflakes were falling, catching on the trees and shrubs and covering the grass in the yard. She made coffee on Jesse’s annoying machine and listened to it sputter as she sat at the kitchen table writing out her game plan on the small pad she always carried in her purse. When her thoughts were in place, she rinsed out her coffee cup, then went upstairs, changed, and drove to Jesse’s office.

“Hi, Violet.” Sophie poked her head into the reception area. “Jesse in?”

“Good morning, dear.” Violet’s face lit up when she saw Sophie in the doorway. “No, I’m afraid he had a meeting with a client this morning. I expect he’ll be back by noon.”

“Do you think it would be all right if I used his office for a few minutes?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I promise not to move anything on his desk or otherwise upset your efforts to organize him,” Sophie assured her.

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

Seated at Jesse’s desk, Sophie turned on his computer and opened a Word document. She typed for several minutes; then, satisfied with her wording, she printed out the memo and read it over.

Sophie smiled. That ought to get his attention. She left the sheet of paper unfolded smack in the center of his blotter. She was just about to push away from the desk when a bit of braided green string caught her eye. She tugged it out from under a pile of papers. The key to Walsh’s. She tossed it up and down in her open palm a few times before dropping it into her bag. Then she turned off the light and closed the door.

“I’m going to run out for a few, Violet. Could I bring you anything from town?” Sophie paused at the door.

“No, dear, but thank you.”

“I’ll be back.”

Sophie fought the urge to skip as she walked to her car. The sporty little sedan had a luxury logo and she had loved every minute driving it, but this morning,
all Sophie could see was its lack of cargo space, space she was going to need if she was going to pack in all her clothes.
Maybe an SUV
, she thought as she headed toward River Road. One of the new ones that got better gas mileage than the older ones did.

She parked in front of the old stone building and watched the falling snow, so soft and wet that the flakes seemed to drop in little bundles like cotton balls. The roads were too warm from the past week for the snow to stick, but it clung to the branches of the trees behind the restaurant and piled on top of the ugly fence separating Walsh’s property from the one next door. She got out of the car and locked her bag inside, then went to the front door and unlocked it.