Ties That Bind (8 page)

“Tell me.” He pictured Susan Sloan at the breakfast nook of the Connecticut home, sipping her herbal tea. She’d be dressed in exotic nightclothes, and her beauty would shine through naturally, without any makeup.

“It’s Kaitlyn. Promise you won’t criticize her, and I’ll tell you.”

An exasperated sigh. “I promise, even though Kaitlyn Renado isn’t my favorite person.”

He explained the predicament with Anna Bingham.

“Is she guilty?”

“No. Kaitlyn would never do anything unethical.”

“Then I’m sorry for her.” His mother waited. “Is this affecting the relationship between you two?”

“Yeah. She’s spending time with her ex-husband, trying to uncover the truth.”

“And that hurts you.”

“I guess.”

“She’s hurt you a great deal with her inability to commit to your relationship.”

“I know. I’m just so frustrated.”

“You should talk this out with her.”

“I have. She gets angry at my insecurity about Bishop.”

“I’m biting my tongue, dear, so I don’t criticize.”

He chuckled. “I love you, you know that.”

“I do. And I love you more.” The familiar retort from his childhood lightened his mood.

“Let’s change the subject. Fill me in on how Dad is and about you and that art shop of yours.” His mother owned a gallery in Manhattan that featured new artists.

And so his mother was off on her two favorite topics. When Tyler hung up, he felt better. He stood, stared at the phone and decided he wasn’t going to mope around waiting for Kaitlyn to call. He’d do something fun on his day off. He was passing the foyer on the way to his bedroom when the front door opened. There she stood with the keys to his place in one hand, carrying a white paper bag in the other.

For a minute he just watched her, the cool morning air swirling around his ankles. Then he said, “Hi, stranger.”

Giving him a small smile, she eased inside and shut the door. She wore deep red knit pants with a matching T-shirt and light zippered jacket. Sneakers graced her feet. “Hi, handsome.” She crossed to the living room table and set down what smelled like coffee and pastry. Turning, she stepped close to him.

He put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. “I missed you.”

“I know.” Her arms slid around his neck. “I’m sorry about the last few days.”

Don’t say it. Don’t whine. “You could have come here last night.”

“I was whipped. Sofie was awful and it was an emotional day.”

“Emotional just with her?”

“No, of course not. With this Bingham thing hanging over my head, I have to fight not to give in to panic.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Tossing her head back, she stared up at him. Her deep brown eyes flashed with…resentment? “What did you mean?”

“Is it emotional being with Bishop so much?”

“Oh, Tyler, don’t start that again. I know you don’t like me seeing him, but I have no choice.”

For some reason, her irritated tone and dismissal of his feelings annoyed him. “You know very well how I feel about this. I’m afraid something will spark between you two again.” She tried draw away, but he held her in place. “I’m afraid you’re in love with him, still. That he’ll get you in the sack, then take you away from me.”

“We agreed we’d be exclusive. I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Like he cheated on you. Best you remember that.”

Her face drained of color and he regretted his words.

“Look, I’m sorry. That was mean. But I worry, Kaitlyn. About us. About your inability to commit to this relationship. “

“You know I care about you.”

“And you know I love you.” He waited a beat, then added, “I hate the fact that your feelings haven’t caught up with mine.”

This time she managed to step back. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t have come over today. I didn’t sleep well and I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”

So much for taking his mother’s advice and bringing all his feelings out in the open. He didn’t mean for this to go south. Though he knew he was acting like some Neanderthal, he bent down, swung her up in his arms and headed for the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked, half in surprise, half in amusement.

“Ending this argument.” He strode down the hall and kicked open his bedroom door. “We won’t fight if we’re busy doing other things.”

Dumping her on the huge four-poster bed, he dragged his shirt over his head and, never taking his eyes off her, he began to unfasten his jeans.

She stared at him a moment, then reached for the zipper of her fleece. “Works for me.”

o0o

REESE BRACED HIS arms on either side of Dray and kissed her nose; he was trying to pretend what they’d just done wasn’t the worst sex they’d ever had. The lines around his mouth and eyes gave him away, though. When he started to move off her, she gripped his shoulders. Strong and muscled, they bunched beneath her fingertips.

“You’re not doing well, are you?” she asked gently.

“No, I guess not. This thing with Anna Bingham has me preoccupied. I’m worried.”

“About the judgeship nomination?”

“Hell, about my practice. A scandal like this could ruin Bishop Associates.”

He did move away then, settling onto his side of the bed, linking his hands behind his head, and staring up at the plaster ceiling. He’d told her once—without meaning to, she guessed—that in the farmhouse he’d shared with Kate, they’d put in an oak ceiling with skylights in the bedroom. Wistfully, he’d said he missed looking up at the stars at night and the sun during the day, and hearing the wind chimes tinkle outside their window.

Dray turned to her side and came up on her elbow, anchoring her head in her open palm. “Is that all, Reese?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Are you upset by being with Kate?”

“I’m upset about the reason I’m forced to be with Kate.”

“Did you argue?”

“We always argue, though it isn’t as bad, now that we have something in common to fight for.” He never admitted the anger and resentment that was still there on both sides, but Dray could sense the emotions inside him. “And then there’s Sofie.” He’d already explained last night what happened with his daughter.

“I’m sorry.” Dray ran a finger down his chest. “She’s so mean to you.”

“She’s hurting.”

“And being a typical teenage brat.”

He chuckled. “That, too. And now this guy, Jax. My Lord, he’s bad news.”

“Did you talk to her about him?”

“Kate and I both tried to. Sofie said we couldn’t keep our marriage together so any advice on relationships that we had to give her was useless.” He expelled a heavy breath. “Maybe she’s right about that. She’s never going to get over the divorce.”

“Neither are you.”

He turned his head to the side, his green eyes glittered with questions. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that you’re still hurting from the divorce, too.”

“Dray, please, let’s not get into that again. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Hurt by his careless dismissal of what she needed to talk about, she sat up, stayed there a minute then swung her legs over the side of the bed. The window was cracked open and she shivered a bit. Rising from the mattress, she walked to the bathroom. When she got to the doorway, Reese called out, “Dray, I’m sorry.”

Turning, she looked at him; her heart swelled at the sight of everything she’d always wanted in a man. Still she had some pride. “You’re sorry for what, Reese? For dismissing my feelings? For making love to me like you weren’t even there?” She lifted her chin. “Or worse yet, like you wished I was someone else?”

He just stared at her. No denial came from his mouth. She shook her head, then stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door.

She’d be damned if she cried in front of him. Facing herself in the mirror, she also made a promise. “And I’ll be damned if I let you have him back, Kate Renado. Not without a fight, at least.”

o0o

BY TUESDAY, WHEN they’d wrangled an appointment to meet with the warden at Longshore Federal Correctional Institution, Reese felt better about facing Kate again. He’d managed to put her out of his mind, make up to Dray for his thoughtlessness, and spend an even-keeled two days away from his ex-wife. They hadn’t seen each other since Saturday, but had spoken on the phone about the press the case was getting, the progress the cops had made, and any new information that had come to light. Yesterday’s newspaper article had been mostly about the police investigation into Bingham’s death. The New Jersey cops had spoken with the warden and some of the inmates, which was exactly what Reese and Kate planned to do today.

Once inside the Longshore facility, the four met up outside Warden Evans’s office. Kate’s lawyer greeted them first. “Bishop. Marcia.”

“Carl,” Reese said. “Nice to see you again.”

Kate greeted Marcia.

All four of them were on friendly terms, even though the other two attorneys had represented Kate and Reese in their divorce proceedings. Ironically, given how angry they had been at each other, neither he nor Kate had wanted to cheat the other out of anything. The settlement had been amicable, making the whole thing even more heartbreaking.

A tall gray-haired man, with a kind smile and a shrewd mind, Carl Wakefield crossed to Marcia Schmidt and began a quiet conversation. Reese’s lawyer, Marcia, only came up to his shoulder but matched Carl’s intellect and sophistication easily.

Reese took the opportunity to study Kate. Her peacock-blue suit set off her dark coloring, though she was a bit pale today and her brown eyes were muddy with fatigue. He knew he didn’t look much better even though he’d put on a blue power suit. “Come sit, Kate.” When she did, he asked, “You okay?”

“No. I’m a wreck. This is going so slow. I want it over.”

He sighed. “Me, too. It’s been a rough few days.”

“Do you think…” She stopped speaking when a female inmate opened the door to the warden’s office. “Mr. Bishop? Judge Renado? Warden Evans is ready for you.”

They both rose, and he felt Kate lean into him. He grasped her arm. “Easy.” They walked into the office, close together, seeking the comfort of the other’s nearness.

The warden’s private domain was paneled and held a wall full of books. The room smelled faintly of furniture polish. There were pictures on a desk, behind which sat a very attractive woman. She reminded Reese of a young Mary Tyler Moore. Her smile was pleasant. “Hello, Judge. Mr. Bishop. Nice to see you again,” she said to their lawyers. When all were seated, Evans nodded. “You want to talk about the Anna Bingham case.”

Reese’s lawyer: “My client fully denies the allegations in her alleged suicide note.”

Kate’s: “Mine, too.”

“Yes, I expected that. I imagine you have questions for me.”

Kate leaned forward. “Warden, do you think Anna Bingham committed suicide?”

Lauren Evans sat back in her chair. She folded her hands over the gray suit she wore. “Hard to say. Prison does things to people’s minds. You can never rule out ending all this.” She gestured toward the window where cinderblock buildings with bars, surrounded by barbed wire, could be seen. Inmates dressed in khaki milled about the recreation yard, some smoking cigarettes, some tossing a ball. An occasional bark of a guard could be heard. “And Bingham was inside twice before, but in a prison camp or low security facility. This is the first time she’s had to deal with being in a cell, with razor fences on the ground keeping out the world.” Evans’s gaze transferred from Kate to Reese, back to Kate. “But my gut tells me she wasn’t the type to take her own life.”

“What type is that?” Reese asked.

“I’ve had suicides on my watch before. The prisoners who try it or accomplish it are usually depressed, sullen, introverted. They don’t participate in any part of prison life. They’re…waiting to die, I guess.”

Kate and Reese exchanged a quick glance. This had come up on their way to see Sofie. “And Bingham wasn’t like that?” Reese asked the warden to confirm their previous speculations.

“No, she wasn’t. Her cellie said she was the belle of the prison ball, so to speak.”

The warden’s phone buzzed. “Hold on a second.” She spoke into it. “Yes, Mary. Wait just a minute though.” She faced them again. “To speed the process along, I thought you’d want to talk to the cellmate, Lena Parks, as the police did. I sent for her.”

Marcia Schmidt exchanged glances with Carl Wakefield. The latter asked, “Warden Evans, you’re being very cooperative. It strikes me as odd. If Bingham didn’t commit suicide, then you’ve had a murder in your prison. That would be far worse than the suicide, wouldn’t it?”

Evans leaned forward, her expression hard. This was a glimpse at the warden inside the woman. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what would be better. I want the truth, and if the truth is murder, I’ll deal with it. Besides, all this is conjecture. Let’s see what Parks has to say.”

o0o

LENA PARKS WAS a diminutive woman with straight black hair dyed blond and looking worse than Sofie’s; she had a bony frame on which her drab prison khakis hung. She entered the warden’s office as if she was coming to a party. “Hey, Warden Evans.” She scanned the room, let her gaze linger on Reese, like most women did, and finally looked back to the warden.

“Hello, Lena. Sit down.” When the woman took a chair, Evans addressed her. “These people want to talk to you about Bingham.”

Immediately, Lena’s shoulders tensed. “Like I told the cops, I didn’t do nothin’ wrong. I didn’t see nothin’, either. I was working in the laundry when she offed herself.”

“We know that,” the warden told her. “These are the people named in the note, Lena. They want your opinion on the type of person Bingham was.”

Relaxed by the warden’s easy manner, Lena sat back. She addressed her comments to Reese, of course. “She was a pistol, that one. Always organizing things. Always talkin’ about what she was gonna do when she got back in the free world.”

“Did the other inmates like her?” Reese asked.

“Most of ’em.”

“She have any enemies?”

An almost imperceptible hesitation. “Don’t know of any.”

Kate knew there was a strict prison code on ratting. You never did it. Lena Parks wouldn’t let slip if Bingham had enemies.