Bed of Lies (8 page)

He must feel like that. Sometimes she thought she was the only one, but other times she saw the fallacy in that. And she was worried about him, too.

"Have you had lunch?" she asked.

"There's a canteen downstairs. I'll grab a sandwich."

"From a machine?" She made a face.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said, turning to the stack of papers in front of him and trying to bring some order to them.

"But I thought you were done. That was your closing argument, right?"

"The judge still has to charge the jury."

"Charge the jury?" she asked, daring to come closer finally.

"We get to tell the judge what we want him to say about the points of law as they apply to this case." He stuffed papers into his briefcase. "What it takes to find Tony guilty. What applies to bringing in a finding of not guilty. But that won't take long. The jury will probably start deliberating this afternoon."

"And then you can rest?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not while the jury's out."

"What do you do while a jury's out?"

"Pace," he said, closing the briefcase and getting to his feet. "Run. Lift weights. Hit a punching bag, if I can find one. Go over my notes from the trial. Things I wish I'd done better. Things I might have tried but didn't. Things I might use on appeal, if it comes to that."

"You have to rest sometimes, Zach."

"Not in trial," he said. "Why are you here? Another fight with Stevie Boy?"

"No. He's out of town."

Zach nodded. "So you thought it was safe to see me, since he's gone?"

"No... Well... I guess. I really wasn't thinking about him. I was thinking you need a keeper almost as much as I do." She walked over to him and let herself slip her hand through the crook in his arm. If she didn't lead him out of here, he might not go. "Come on. Let's get out of here and have a decent lunch, at least. You'll breathe some fresh air for a change. Have you seen anyplace else since you've been here?"

He shrugged. "The jail?"

"Doesn't count."

He stared at her. "You still didn't tell me why you're here."

"I was worried about you." She stayed by his side, her arm linked with his, refusing to think about how welcome a feeling it was, to touch him.

"Me?" He found the energy to summon a grin at that. He really was a gorgeous man, even dead tired and drained.

"What? No one's allowed to worry about you?"

"I'm fine, Julie," he insisted.

Which was odd, because had she been in his position, exhausted and dreading the next minute, she would have smiled and lied through her teeth. Just like that.

She didn't expect anyone to take care of her, didn't let herself lean on anyone. Not really. She'd tried with Steve, but she'd never really shown him the deepest, darkest parts of herself. She didn't show those to anyone, and she wondered now if Zach did the same thing. If maybe they had this one thing in common.

"Humor me," she said. "I came all the way down here to see you. Come have lunch with me."

"I can't. Really. I have to confer with Alan, the public defender, the other guy you saw at the defense table. He'll be back any minute. We're still working on exactly what we want to ask for, for the charge to the jury."

"How about you sit here and work, and I'll go get us some lunch. We can sit outside and eat. There's a park half a block away. Great shade, lots of benches. It won't take fifteen minutes."

"Julie, really—"

"Let me do this one thing for you." Because she hadn't ever taken care of him, not that she could remember, not in all the time she'd known him.

"Okay. Fifteen minutes. That's it."

"I'll be right back. Any requests?"

"I'll eat anything," he said.

Julie smiled for what felt like the first time in a month. It wasn't much, but at least she could feed the man.

* * *

She was back too quickly, Zach claimed, and she practically had to drag him out of the courtroom and across the street.

"See?" She pointed to an elm. "It's called a tree. See how green it is? And that blue stuff up there? That's the sky. Those puffy things—aren't those nice?—they're clouds."

"I think I have some vague memory of them," he said as they settled themselves on a bench and she presented him with two huge roast-beef sandwiches and some potato salad. "Thanks. How are things going with Steve?"

"They're not," she admitted. "We argued after the party, then hardly spoke until he left for Birmingham, and he hasn't come back yet."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have come there that night."

"It's not your fault. I made this mess all by myself."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Just try to make it through the day. That's the sum total of my plan right now."

"So you didn't come down here to ask me about your parents or Peter?"

"No." She'd picked up her own sandwich, turkey and avocado on a French roll, but now she put it back down without taking a bite. "Could we not argue about this, Zach? I know you think I'm... Well, I know what you think, and I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Disappointing him, mostly. The man had been like a conscience to her, the measure of what was right and wrong, and she knew he thought she was dead wrong on this. She'd been waiting ever since the night of her engagement party for the phone call telling her that her parents were in jail, asking her to come take Peter. So far, the call hadn't come.

"It hasn't happened yet, has it?" she asked finally. "They haven't been arrested?"

"Not yet," he said.

But clearly it was coming.

She picked up her sandwich and ate, any pleasure she might have had in the day gone. He ate, too, and they didn't say a word for the longest time. Finally, he got up to throw the food containers away and then stood there, hands in his pockets, staring down at her.

"I have to get back," he said. "Want to give it one more try? Tell me why you're really here?"

Julie could read between the lines. He thought she wanted him to talk her into going home. He'd done that so many times—convinced her to do the right thing. It seemed he'd never give up on her, never lose hope that maybe someday she'd be a different person, a better person.

She shook her head. It just wasn't going to happen. "I came because you need to call your sister."

He frowned. "Grace?"

Julie nodded. "She told me about your father getting out of prison."

"He's not my father," Zach shot back, all his tension back with vengeance.

"I know. Sorry."

"No." He waved off her apology. "I'm sorry. I know you know who he is. I just..."

He wasn't handling it well.
Wow.
She didn't think she'd ever seen Zach
not
handle something well.

"Is he bothering you?" Julie asked.

"Everything about that man bothers me," Zach said.

Of course it would. The man had beaten his mother to death. Zach had lived in that house. The things he must have seen and heard... Julie knew about yelling and screaming, about what happened when people drank. Her stepfather had slapped her mother around, and sometimes Julie, too, but he hadn't... She was thinking that he hadn't really hurt them. But the truth was it had hurt.

Obviously, the things that had gone on in Zach's house when he was a little boy had hurt him, too. She'd just never seen the scars before. Or maybe she hadn't been looking. She'd seen the facade of perfection that shined around him and taken that at face value, was ashamed now of not seeing it for what it was.

A facade. An act.

Julie should have spotted that a mile away.

"So, that was it?" he asked. "Grace sent you?"

"Yes. Is there anything I can do for you? Now?"

He looked like he simply didn't understand the question. It would have been funny, if it hadn't been so sad. No one could be that strong all the time.

"I'll be fine," he claimed, again reminding her of herself.

"Okay." But no matter what he said, she was going to worry. "I'll tell Grace you'll call. This will be over soon, and you'll be going home, right?"

"I don't know," he said. "We're down one attorney in the office, and I'm not sure what kind of juggling might have been done to the schedule."

"You need to go home, Zach." To the people who loved him and would take care of him. If she had a place like that to go to, she'd be there in a heartbeat.

"We'll see," he said.

"Call Grace." She frowned. "And if you need anything, I'm right here."

"What about Steve?"

"He'll just have to handle it."

If Steve was here and speaking to her.

* * *

She did not sleep well that night, slept right through her alarm and got to the office late to find that Steve was due back that day. She still didn't know what to say to him.

Somehow, she made it through the day.

Six o'clock came and went. Still no Steve. Finally, at six-twenty, she tried his secretary. He'd been in the building since two o'clock, but was now stuck in a meeting that was running late.

She went home, ate a carton of yogurt and a banana. Maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe he really was done with her.

The phone finally rang shortly after nine. She jumped at the sound, her heart pounding. "Hello."

"Julie, it's me. It's taking me longer than I thought to get out of the office."

"All right." He was late. No big deal. Not like lying to the person he was supposed to marry.

"I guess I'm still trying to decide what it is I want to say to you."

"Well... I can understand that." My, how tentative they'd become with each other.

"I may come by later tonight. I'm not sure."

"Whatever you want to do." She'd sit here, waiting, thinking, beating herself up, things like that.

And then he was gone.

She sat there, the TV droning on in the background. Before she knew it, the local news was on. Was it really that late? Then Zach's face appeared on the screen.

Julie hit the volume button. Oh, no. Tony Williams had been convicted of murder.

Just the look on Zach's face was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Sometimes life was just too hard, and those were lousy times to be alone.

She knew. She'd been there herself.

She looked at the clock. Eleven-ten.

She didn't want him to be alone, not after the way he'd looked the day before. She didn't know what she'd say to him. But she couldn't leave him all alone.

Chapter 5

Fifteen minutes later, she knocked softly on his door.

"Go away," he called out.

"Zach? It's me."

"Not tonight, Julie. I'm not fit company for anyone. Go."

"I can't," she said. "I won't. Let me in."

He sounded just a little crazy, and his words were slightly slurred. A shiver of unease worked its way up her back. He wouldn't be drunk, would he?

"Zach, please, just let me in. Let me know you're okay."

She banged on the door, deciding it felt pretty good to hit something now. He said he hit a punching bag if he could find one, when things got bad. She'd tell him to try the door next time.

Zach pulled open his door just as someone opened the one next door and scowled at them both. "Jesus, Julie, what are you doing?"

"Getting you to let me in," she said defiantly, cradling a fist in her hand. It hurt now. But then everything did eventually, didn't it?

She pushed him aside and walked in. He'd knocked over the end table in the far corner and all the papers on it. A bar glass, half full of amber liquid, stood on the coffee table, and a bottle beside it.

So he had decided to have a drink. Or two or three or five?

She turned back to look at him. His hair was mussed, like he'd run his hands through it too many times. He'd discarded the jacket of his suit. His feet were bare, tie gone, shirt unbuttoned, as if he'd given some thought to undressing and falling into bed. He had lines she'd never seen before on his face, at the corners of his eyes and his mouth, across his brow. His mouth stretched into a bleak line, and he wouldn't look at her. She tried not to look at anything but his beautiful, sad face. An odd feeling of intimacy slipped into the room.