Indefensible (34 page)

“If we run out of gas before they come…” Kate tried to joke but neither of them could smile. When would the Coast Guard come?

Ten minutes later, they heard the engine.

Twenty minutes later, they were wrapped in survival blankets, cupping mugs of hot tea, slumped in the heated cabin of the Coast Guard vessel.

Tuesday, 9:14 p.m.

K
ate hadn't known Alaska had been a victim of Jamie Gainsford's until she and Randall returned to shore with Lucy and Nick.

They had been numb: with cold, with shock, with everything life had dealt them in the past few days. When they staggered off the boat they were whisked into ambulances and taken to the hospital, where they spent the next few hours recovering from hypothermia. Randall and Kate were released, but Lucy and Nick were admitted. They wanted to observe Lucy's brain function. Nick had multiple fractures in his leg, cracked ribs, a broken nose, and was suffering from hypothermia.

As soon as Randall was told he could leave, he hurried to the children's hospital to be with his kids. Kate rushed to the vet hospital and picked up both Alaska and Charlie. “Fortunately, they weren't given too much chloral hydrate,” the vet told her. “It could have killed them.”

When Kate arrived home, Finn was waiting with
a hot cup of tea and a plate of spaghetti for her, and a small plate of spaghetti for Alaska. When he saw Charlie, he scraped the pot, scrounging up a second serving. “I think they earned it,” Finn said. Kate nodded, tears pricking her eyes. Then she saw the closet. Finn had nailed shut the half-door leading to the staircase. “Enid asked me to,” he said. “I didn't think you'd object.”

After fussing over her and doing the dishes, Finn offered to come back later and spend the night on the sofa in the living room. Kate was tempted, oh, she was tempted, but in the end she refused. If she said yes, she'd want him in her house every night. It wasn't fair to Finn. He wasn't her babysitter.

He left, promising to come back and check on the dogs the next day. Kate ran a hot bath and lay in it, eyes closed, luxuriating in the warm water on her skin. Her arm ached. Every muscle in her body felt as if it had been stretched to the limit. She let her body go limp and her mind go blank. There'd be time enough to piece all the day's events into one complete picture; right now she just needed to get her head back on straight.

When she dried herself after her bath, she hesitated. Would Randall come by tonight to pick up Charlie? If so, she should get dressed. But she longed to put on her jammies. She glanced at the clock. Randall still had not called. It was late. They were both exhausted. He was probably sleeping at the hospital.

She slipped on a tank top and a pair of silky pajama bottoms, then wrapped herself up in her fleecy bathrobe. Although it was summer, fog chilled the air. Besides, she wasn't sure she'd ever feel warm again. She heated
up a mug of hot chocolate, then curled up on the sofa, the phone by her side.

She was being silly. Randall was with his children.

But she longed to have someone to talk to, someone who'd been there, who understood what she'd just been through.

And that was him.

But he didn't call her.

Instead, he showed up on her doorstep. Wordlessly, she let him in. They stared at each other in the dim hallway.

“I came to get Charlie.”

Then he opened his arms and she stepped into them.

He held her against his chest. One hand stroked her hair. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. It was warm, solid, unyielding. Charlie limped toward him, nuzzling his leg.

“Kate, I'm sorry,” he murmured. “You could have died out there.”

She felt a sob build in her chest. She pulled away from him, managing a wry smile. “I've dealt with worse situations.” She pushed a strand of hair off her face. “How are the kids?”

“Lucy is coming around. I think she'll be okay.” Her eyes searched his. He knew what she wanted to ask. He added softly, “She says that Jamie Gainsford didn't hurt her.”

He looked away, his gaze bleak. Kate knew it would take a long time for Randall to get over the fact he failed to protect his daughter.

“How about Nick?”

“He's doing okay,” Randall said. “Gainsford gave him a beating, but Nick took him down.” There was no mistaking the pride in Randall's voice. “You know, he looks a mess, but he seems less…tangled.” Randall rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don't know how to explain it. But he just seems to be at peace with himself.”

Kate knew exactly what he meant. She'd felt the same way after surviving Craig Peters' attack.

She wasn't sure how she felt about what happened with Jamie Gainsford. She'd been stricken with guilt when she realized he'd been injured. That he couldn't save himself.

But maybe he hadn't wanted to save himself.

There had been something in his eyes. She'd been expecting to see Craig Peters reflected back at her.

Instead, she'd seen resignation. Acceptance.

Peace.

Part of her was relieved. But there was a part of her that felt Gainsford didn't deserve the peace he'd claimed just before his death. And she wasn't sure if she should feel ashamed or self-righteous.

She wanted to tell Randall about it. But this wasn't the right time. Exhaustion carved grooves between his brows.

He looked at her, a question in his eyes. A question she didn't know how to answer.

“Kate.” He stepped closer. “I want to thank you. You saved my daughter's life.”

She pulled her bathrobe more tightly around her.

She knew she should just smile and accept Randall's gratitude, but she didn't want him indebted to her. Their relationship seemed to swing from one extreme
to another. She knew firsthand how devastating it could be when the pendulum stopped and there was no real weight to balance it.

“You already thanked me,” she said, then regretted it. What a lame response.
What are you supposed to say when someone thanks you for saving their child's life?

His eyes burned into hers. “You don't know how much it meant to me that you stuck by me.”

She shrugged. “I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because I've been there.”

He rubbed a hand over his neck, hesitating. His eyes searched hers. Finally, he said, “I need to mourn Elise.”

“Agreed.” Elise Vanderzell deserved no less. But she knew it was more than Elise he was mourning. He was mourning the place he and his ex-wife had gone, the place where they both became less of what they were.

Charlie whined deep in her throat. Randall knelt down and rubbed her head. Then he pulled her leash from his pocket and clipped it on her collar. He glanced up at Kate. “I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how the kids are doing.”

“Thank you.”

He opened the door. “Kate.” He turned to face her. “I didn't just come here to say thank you.”

A slow flush rose in her chest.

“You know I care about you.” His eyes searched hers.

She reached over and kissed him on the cheek. His skin under the stubble was smooth, warm. Tasted of salt.
“I know. Now go to bed. You look like you're about to fall over.”

He captured her hand and pressed it against his chest. His heart beat hard against her palm. She didn't want him to let go.

“We will continue this discussion when the time is right. For both of us.” His eyes searched hers.

Kate's heart caught. He was right—this wasn't the time to start a relationship. But she also knew that sometimes the timing never worked out.

Unwilling to defeat the hope that had finally rekindled in Randall's eyes, she nodded.

He stepped into the fog-bound night, Charlie at his heels.

She locked the front door and found Alaska dozing on the sofa in the living room. She plumped up the pillow, unfolded the throw and curled up to his warm, solid body.

Ten days later

E
than studied the photo in the file from Cold Case. Becky Murphy stared at him, her face on the defensive.

He felt sick. Becky Murphy's remains had been found in a shallow grave a hundred yards behind Jamie Gainsford's cabin. Her parents were notified, closure was finally achieved, but was justice done?

No. Jamie Gainsford had manipulated them all, manipulated the justice system with his devious use of “expert witness” notes, manipulated Ethan by pretending to reluctantly dribble out confidential information that Ethan was only too eager to eat up and use against Randall Barrett.

Jamie Gainsford had left a trail of victims, some alive, some dead. And no one had ever suspected him. He'd used his professional persona to such effect that no one questioned him.

And now the bastard was dead.

“Can you come to my office?” Deb asked, stopping by his desk.

Here it comes,
he thought. He grabbed his notepad and followed her. She closed the door behind him.

His stomach sank.

“Ethan, what the hell happened?” Deb said. They both knew exactly what she was talking about.

His eyes dropped to the Murphy folder. “I screwed up.”

“Don't be too hard on yourself. You weren't the only one to be fooled.” She stared at him, her jaw working. “But here's the problem. I'm getting some flak on this one. First Clarkson—” Ethan tried not to wince at her reference to the file that made Randall Barrett his bête noire “—and now this. Both cases have the same common denominator—Randall Barrett.”

“I know.”

“We'll be lucky if he doesn't sue our asses off.”

“Look, Deb, I did the best I could. He was the prime suspect after Nick gave his eyewitness testimony.”

She exhaled. “I agree. Based on what you investigated, he was the prime suspect. We all know that. But the public doesn't. The deputy chief called me and gave me the ‘public is losing confidence in the police' line.”

Becky Murphy stared at him.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Deb. We get this all the time. But you know what it's like in the heat of an investigation. You have to go with your gut.”

Deb picked up a pencil and rolled it between her fingers. “Ethan, everything you say is valid. But the fact
remains that if the public doesn't have confidence in the police, then we can't be effective.”

He caught Deb's eye. “Do you have confidence in me?”

She studied the point of the pencil. It was perfectly sharpened. “Yes.”

She let him absorb this, then put the pencil down and opened up a folder. “But we think you need a break from Homicide, Ethan.”

Oh, shit.
Sweat pricked under his arms.

“We don't want to waste your skills. Cold Case needs someone with your expertise. You can report to Sergeant Salter on Monday.”

His fingers tightened around the file folder. They were taking him off the hot seat. He couldn't blame them.

And part of him, a small part of him, was grateful.

His brain was so screwed up right now he doubted his abilities, as well.

Deb stood. “I hope you don't view this as a demotion. It's not.”

He gave a brusque nod. “It could be worse, I suppose. You could have put me back on patrol. And since it's Cold Case, all the bodies are decomposed, right? I won't have to go to any more autopsies. At least fresh ones.”

“Always looking on the bright side, aren't you, Ethan,” Deb said, a smile tugging her mouth. “Now get out of here.”

 

“What do you do in the winter?” Kate asked Eddie, watching him light a post–celebratory dinner cigarette
as they sat at an outdoor patio on Halifax's waterfront. Only a few restaurants allowed smoking nowadays, and strictly on the patio. When the weather got cold, the patios were closed.

He grinned. “I just put on my long underwear and huddle outside with the hoi polloi. You'd be amazed how many clients I get.”

“So the bar society took pity on you and reinstated your license?”

Eddie took a deep drag, then coughed. “Yes…” He sputtered, and sipped his water.

“How did you get the money, if I may be so indelicate?”

He grinned. “Our client paid me. As soon as the charge was dropped, McGrath Barrett couriered a check to Randall. I'm officially back in the black with the law society. And they decided they'd been overly onerous. So they've given me my license. And—” he waved his cigarette, almost hitting the edge of the umbrella tilted over their table “—thanks to all the publicity on this case, I'm getting quite a few new clients.” He tapped his ash into his coffee saucer. “You wouldn't be interested in joining me, would you, Kate? We could go fifty-fifty. Bent Lange.” He took another drag on his cigarette and squinted at her through the smoke.

Kate smiled, regret in her eyes. “Thank you, Eddie. But I have to refuse.”

He shrugged. “Just thought I'd ask. You're good at this. Your first criminal matter and not only do you get the charges dropped against your client, but you also figured out who the real killer was. Bravo.” He saluted
her with his cigarette. Ash, still glowing, flicked onto the table.

She grinned. “Not bad for a civil litigation lawyer.”

His expression turned serious. “Have you thought about switching to criminal defense work? You know, you could probably convince the partnership. They'd have a hard time saying no to their golden girl.”

Kate shrugged. She was aware her reputation was larger than life, fueled by her slaying of a serial killer, her whistle-blowing of a tissue-brokering scandal and her successful defense of her managing partner's murder charge. She'd asked Randall not to mention her role in saving Lucy from drowning. It was too personal, struck too deep a chord. “You know I almost quit McGrath Barrett.”

He raised his brows. “This should be good.”

“I was involved in a case where the expert hired by my corporate client was clearly biased and bullied the plaintiff. I didn't like representing clients who threw around their money and wore down the plaintiffs. It seemed a perversion of the law. The scales of justice were too heavily weighted in favor of the corporate interest.”

“It's the way business is done, Kate.”

“I know. So then I got to thinking about it.” Her gut told her that leaving was the wrong thing to do. She'd only been hired permanently in June. It made her feel like a quitter, as if the minute something happened that she didn't like, she couldn't stick it out. So she thought long and hard about how she could make a career work at McGrath Barrett without selling her soul. “And I realized that instead of going to a small firm with little
resources, I should leverage the resources of a big firm like McGrath Barrett for clients who have nothing.”

Eddie eyed her speculatively through the haze of smoke streaming from his mouth.

“I spoke to the partners about letting me do more pro bono work.” Even if it meant her total billables were less than other lawyers', she knew they could not refuse to put their star associate on charity cases. It made the firm positively glow with community goodwill. “They agreed. Of course, I also have to work on regular files, but I told them no more insurance clients.” She gave Eddie an arch look. “I thought maybe you and I could work on some pro bono cases together.”

He nodded slowly. “I'd be delighted to.”

The breeze shifted and tobacco smoke drifted in her face. She coughed. “But I didn't survive a serial killer to die of secondhand smoke.”

He laughed so hard he choked. He ground out the butt in his napkin. Kate was relieved to see this one wasn't cloth. “That's the most compelling argument for quitting I've heard so far. But despite your success in the courtroom, it won't change anything.” He sipped his now cold coffee. “Kate, do you know why I smoke?”

His eyes were sad. Kate regretted making a joke about it.

“Because it keeps me busy. Ever since my wife and daughter left, I've had nothing but time to reflect on the mess I've made of my life. For an alcoholic, that's an invitation to disaster.” He played with the handle of his coffee cup. “I hit rock bottom two years ago. I didn't want to end my life there. So I dried myself out even as my wife decided she'd taken enough crap from me.
I attend AA meetings five days a week. I also have a sponsor who checks in with me. And right now, even though I shouldn't be indulging in addictive habits, I smoke until I can get to the next stage of my recovery.” He gave her a small smile.

The waitress arrived with the check. Eddie insisted on treating Kate. “To our first case together.” He signed the credit card slip with a flourish. His hand tremored just a little.

Kate didn't look away fast enough. Eddie gave a wry smile. “Just a little reminder to keep me on the straight and narrow. I hope my recovery will come sooner rather than later. But until then, bear with me.”

Kate smiled at him. The guy had grown on her. A lot. “With pleasure,” she said.

They walked along the waterfront. Neither was quite ready to end the evening. The temperature was perfect, a slight breeze lifting Kate's hair. She looked at the harbor.

It was calm. Smooth. Benign.

She thought of diving beneath the cold water of Prospect Bay. Of searching for Lucy in the vast blackness.

Of knowing that if she failed to find her, she'd be haunted for the rest of her life.

But she had found her.

She had saved her.

That was something.

Actually, it was everything.