Sawyer, Meryl (50 page)

Damn, it was going to be harder than hell to tell her the truth.
Even so, he would tell her everything. But not yet. Not when he finally had won
her love.

Why not? If love didn't mean trust, it didn't mean anything at
all. He trusted her the way he'd never quite trusted anyone else. So what was
stopping him from telling her?

Royce followed Mitch into his office the next morning. The
receptionist greeted them, then quickly looked down. They passed a cluster of
young associates on the way to Mitch's office. More quick hellos, but they
seemed almost... embarrassed.

Why hadn't anyone congratulated Mitch? Wouldn't that have been
normal?

Mitch's secretary handed him a stack of messages and mumbled a
brief good morning, sounding unusually nervous.

Mitch didn't seem to notice, saying, "Paul wants to talk to
me. I'll see him, make a few calls, then we'll go pick out a ring."

Mitch was on the telephone when Paul and Val arrived a few minutes
later. They both looked as if they'd just met the grim reaper.

"Is David..." Royce didn't know how to ask if her
brother had died.

"He's doing a little better," Val said.

Why hadn't either of them congratulated her on having the charges
dropped? With growing apprehension Royce noticed Val didn't look her in the
eye.

Mitch hung up and asked Paul, "Did you find out who they're
going to arrest for Caroline's murder?"

Paul nodded solemnly and Royce's scalp prickled. Not Wally, she
prayed. What was wrong with her? Why would she even think that? What possible
motive would he have?

Mitch looked expectantly at Paul, whose grave expression unnerved
Royce. Why, he's upset, concerned about Mitch. Something's happened and it's
going to cause trouble for Mitch.

Paul cleared his throat and shot a quick look at Val before
responding. "They're going to arrest Gian Viscotti. They found the gun
that killed Linda Allen in his possession. Ballistics says it's the same weapon
that killed Caroline."

A wave of relief so intense it brought tears to her eyes swept
through Royce. Not Wally. Not Talia. Not someone she loved. It dawned on her
she wasn't in danger any longer.

Hallelujah! She had her life back. And the love of her life. She
looked at Mitch, and he beamed at her, an intimate smile that said it was
finally over. Now they could really begin their life together.

"A crime of passion," Paul stated flatly. "Caroline
told the count to get lost."

"Aren't crimes of passion usually spur of the moment?"
Royce asked.

"Usually, but not always. This was a complicated crime, and
it was amazingly well planned."

"Great. Case closed." Mitch grinned, apparently missing
Paul's disturbed expression. "The Italian count's going to need a good
lawyer. Don't let him call me. We're going on a honeymoon."

She couldn't help smiling at the thought of becoming Mitch's wife,
but she was going to have to train him to consult her before making decisions.
Perhaps they could marry and postpone the honeymoon. She wanted to stay in the
city to be with Val when her brother died. Val had been there when Royce needed
her even though Royce had sold her short, questioning her loyalty.

"That's a good idea," Paul said quietly before Royce
could protest. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a newspaper. "You
may want to be out of town for a while."

A frisson of alarm exploded. The paper in Paul's hand was the
Evening
Outrage.
What had Tobias Ingeblatt printed this time? She went up to the
desk as Paul handed Mitch the paper.

Half the page was the close-up of an older woman, her face
contorted so she appeared demented, crazy. The headline beneath the grotesque
photo was typeset in a size usually reserved for serial killers: DURANT'S LOONY
MOTHER.

Her pulse beat erratically. No! Please, no! How had Ingeblatt
found out about Lolly? It dawned on Royce that the photographer—a man—had
caught Lolly off-guard. Perhaps he'd deliberately frightened her. And she'd
gone after him, believing she was going to be raped. The poor woman.

The article that followed was full of half-truths and outright
lies. Ingeblatt claimed Lolly had killed her cousin in cold blood. No mention
of the gang rape. He suggested Mitch had violent tendencies because he'd been
arrested for an unprovoked attack on a helpless farmer. The article conluded
that Mitch had changed his name to hide his arrest record and the fact that his
mother had been institutionalized.

Royce was so angry that if Ingeblatt had been in the room, she
would have killed him. Now there was no chance that Mitch would be appointed
judge. This could be so damaging to his reputation, he might never receive a
judicial appointment.

And Lolly. Oh, God, what would happen to that tormented woman now?

Royce ventured a look at Mitch. He was squinting at the page like
a scientist examining something under a magnifying glass. He lifted his eyes to
meet her gaze and in them she saw profound anguish.

"Can't they leave her alone?" he said, as if he thought
she knew the whole story. "Hasn't she suffered enough?"

"Mitch, no one will believe—"

"Bullshit. This is exactly the type of story that make rags
like the
Outrage
millions." He turned to Paul. "You've got
sources at the
Outrage.
Find out where Ingeblatt got his
information."

Paul cracked his knuckles, his mouth crimped into a taut line.
Finally he answered, "I already have."

Val looked as if she might cry any second. Suddenly Royce felt as
if she'd fallen off a cliff and was about to land. Headfirst. No, she silently
pleaded, but Paul spoke anyway.

"Ingeblatt got the story from Wallace Winston."

Mitch wheeled on Royce, his expression not one of an adult but
that of a young boy whose trust has just been betrayed for the first time. In
that instant she understood the depth of his love. And the trust that's the
bedrock of love. She had no right to that love. Not now. Not after this.

"Mitch, I swear Wally would never..." Her voice trailed
off; she couldn't lie to Mitch. She couldn't honestly say Wally hadn't
investigated him, but she was positive he'd never tell Ingeblatt anything.
"Ingeblatt's lying. Wally would never have a thing to do with him."

Mitch was studying her intently now, his expression guarded.
"Did Wally go to the South to check into my past?"

Of all the terrible things that had happened to her lately,
nothing compared with having to look Mitch in the eye and tell him the truth.
"Yes. But he was only trying to help me. He thought there might be
something in your past that affected me."

"All along you knew what he was doing." Mitch's voice
was low, devoid of emotion, but his southern accent was more apparent than
usual, betraying his inner turmoil.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice was barely above a
whisper. "I was desperate. I didn't know who was framing me or why. I know
it was wrong, but I was willing to try anything."

"Even though you'd promised, you went behind my back. You
were sleeping with me, but you couldn't trust me." He didn't raise his voice,
but the anguish in his tone expressed feelings he once would have kept hidden.
"It wasn't enough that I was willing to do anything—spend any amount of
money—to help you, and all I asked was for you to respect my privacy."

He gazed solemnly at the picture of his mother, shaking his head;
his voice dropped the way it had that night when he'd told her about Harley.
When he'd been so upset he couldn't look at her.

"Now my mother will be hounded by reporters. She's never had
a life. That was stolen from her years ago. She's been making progress these
last few years. I thought—I hoped—one day I'd be able to see her again. But
now..."

What could Royce say? She'd never anticipated the horrible impact
this story would have on Lolly Jenkins. Mitch was right. Reporters were
ruthless. They'd be crawling all over that clinic, cameras in hand.

"Mitch, I'm sorry. I—"

"Get out." He turned around and stared out the window at
the bay.

"Mitch, I"—she touched his arm—"I'm sorry. I never
intended to—"

He spun around to face her. A wild flash of grief ripped through
her, a pain so intense, it was almost physical. The minute she met his eyes,
she realized what she'd done. His eyes. His expressive eyes were filled with
profound agony— a glimpse of the young trusting boy he'd once been.

What could she say? She had encouraged Wally's investigation,
hidden it even, and her actions had triggered this catastrophe. She tried to
speak, not knowing what she could possibly say.

Paul followed Val and Royce up to his office after Mitch had
stormed out, heading God-only-knew-where. Personally, Paul wanted to tell Royce
to go to hell, but he loved Val too much. She didn't believe Royce could
possibly be responsible for the derogatory article.

Royce slumped onto the sofa in Paul's office and Val sat beside
her. Paul reluctantly took the chair nearby.

"What am I going to do?" Royce asked.

"You can go home as soon as Gian is arrested," Paul
said, deliberately misinterpreting her question. Val shot him a scathing look.
Paul couldn't help himself. Royce had gotten what she'd asked for. She'd ruined
Mitch's career.

That was only part of the problem. He'd known Mitch was in love
with her—but not how much. In those unguarded moments when Mitch discovered
Royce had betrayed him, Paul had seen the depth of Mitch's love.

"When Mitch cools down, he'll understand why you were
investigating him," Val told Royce. "He'll forgive you."

"No, he won't"—she turned to Paul—"will he?"

Val flashed Paul a cautioning look, but he couldn't bring himself
to lie, so he merely shrugged.

"Wally didn't sell this story to Ingeblatt." Royce's
voice had an edge of desperation. "If he had, he would have used more
detail."

"My source said the information came from your uncle."

"I think Ingeblatt used a scanner and overheard part of my
conversation with Wally. He must have called Fair Acres and gotten a few facts,
then he had a stringer take Lolly's picture. If only he'd told the true story,
Mitch would be a hero."

"Just what is the real story?" Paul's curiosity had been
piqued by the article. With Ingeblatt you never knew how much was true. He
claimed to get most of his info from extraterrestrials with a penchant for
abducting women and seducing them aboard their spaceships.

"Mitch didn't change his name," Royce said, her voice
charged with emotion.

Paul listened while Royce told a story about Mitch's life that was
so unbelievable, it had to be true. Mitch. God damn. He'd known him over twenty
years—and yet he'd never truly known him at all.

With every word Royce uttered, Paul's opinion of her changed
another degree, and it had nothing to do with the tears streaming down Val's
face. Royce spoke with so much love and compassion that Paul had to admit Val was
right. Royce would never do anything to hurt Mitch.

Still, the damage had been done.

"Everything Mitch did was to help Lolly, not hide his
past," Royce insisted. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"Believe me, Mitch will be on a plane to Alabama this morning,"
Paul said. "He'll take care of Lolly. The question is: What can we do to
help Mitch?"

He wished he had an answer. He might not have known about Mitch's
past, but the guy was the best damn friend anyone could want. Still, he
couldn't think of any way to help him.

He gazed at Royce. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. A
seed of an idea took root in his mind and grew in the silent room until he was
certain that there was a way to salvage Mitch's reputation.

"You said you have a picture of Mitch," he asked Royce,
and she nodded. "Here's my idea. The
Outrage
is an evening paper,
right? All the other papers are morning editions. Nothing was in any of them
because they'd already gone to press by the time anyone saw the
Outrage's
article,
but by now everyone's investigating Mitch. It'll take time for reputable papers
to investigate; meanwhile people will be discussing the
Outrage's
story."

"And they'll believe it," Royce said with disgust.
"I know. My family has been in the newspaper business my whole life. We
know retractions never undo the harm of an erroneous article. Too often people
want to believe the worst."

"That's why you have to act fast," Paul said. "Get
over to the
Examiner.
Have your uncle help you convince the
editor-in-chief to let you write the true story and use the picture."

"Me?" Royce vaulted to her feet. "I can't."

"Why not?" Val asked. "You're a fine writer."

"I promised Mitch I wouldn't."