He had been afraid she would revisit the past rather than focus on the present. It appeared she was. “You think Hudson is innocent?”
Lindsey looked down at the floor, and he could tell she fought with her emotions. “Just covering my bases.”
“Lindsey?”
She raised her eyes and looked at him. The rich color of green took his breath away. Or maybe it was the simple awareness he felt each and every time their eyes locked. He watched with admiration as she reached for control and overcame her emotional state.
This time he changed the subject. “You look good today.”
Surprise lit her eyes, but, to his satisfaction, not displeasure. Then, to his utter amazement, she let her eyes roam down his body and back up. A bold move no doubt meant to send him a message. She was considering . . .
“I suppose you pass inspection,” she teased.
He raised an eyebrow, laughter in his eyes. “You suppose?”
“You’ll do,” she said, and started to walk past him.
He sidestepped, blocking her way into the small kitchen. “Perhaps I should show you how well I will do?” His voice was low.
“Do you always feel the need to prove yourself?” she challenged.
He gave her a hot look. No way could he hide what he was feeling. Not that he intended to. He wanted Lindsey, and he wanted her to know it. And yes, he had an agenda. One he wasn’t hiding anymore than he was his desire. “With you, it seems I do.”
Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks, dark crescents against the ivory of her skin. As if she was thinking, perhaps struggling with her response. She looked up at him, her eyes now darker. Hotter. “Why, Mark? Why do you want to prove anything to me?”
He never blinked, nor did he hesitate in his response. He’d given this very question a lot of thought. “I admit, I can’t explain it. I’m not one to dance around a subject. You do things to me, Lindsey. I came back to Paxton for you, and only for you.”
Her eyes widened. “And your reputation, of course.”
No more games. He didn’t like them, and he wanted the air clear. Honest. “I could have dealt with the reputation thing without coming back, and we both know it.”
There was a long, drawn-out silence as they stood there, so close they were practically touching, staring into each other’s eyes. He wanted to kiss her so damn bad it was like a need as critical as his next breath. He swayed towards her, his head tilting downward, closer to her. Lindsey’s lips trembled ever so slightly, and he could almost taste his anticipation.
But then she stiffened, and he knew she had talked herself into getting spooked. The dismissal came next. She delicately cleared her throat. “We need to get going, Mark.”
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to offset the rage of his body with the movement. “You and I both know what’s between us, but if you need time, I’ll give you time.” With that said, he stepped aside to let her pass.
She appeared stunned by his statement, standing there, staring, unmoving. When she started walking, he let her come parallel with him, and then he grabbed her arm. His face moved very near hers, his eyes fixed on her face. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’m not what caused those shadows in your eyes. I’m here now, not a part of the past, and no matter how hard you push me, I won’t run.”
His eyes bore into hers, his intent to let her know he meant business. He’d decided he wanted Lindsey, and he was going to do what it took to earn her trust. After several potent seconds, he released her.
And she took off like a scared cat.
Chapter Five
The décor-free, musty room surrounded them like an empty shell.
A single metal table and four chairs sat in the middle of the lifeless walls. Lindsey impatiently tapped her pencil on the table, which in turn made a loud thud every time it hit the metal.
Mark reached out and grabbed the pencil. “Why don’t you sit down? It might calm your nerves a bit.”
Lindsey shot him a glowering look. “My nerves are fine. I just hate wasted time. I wish they would hurry the heck up. It’s not like we have all day.”
Mark eyed her, opening his mouth to comment, but lost the words when the wide, steel door opened. A burly, toothless guard held Roger Williams by the arm. The guard grunted and pointed at a chair, watching with stone-cold eyes as Roger sat down. Then the guard stepped to the hallway, never saying a word, leaving Lindsey and Mark alone with their client. Roger Williams was a slight man, not taller than five feet seven inches, with sunken cheekbones and weary green eyes. Lindsey studied him, seeking an answer.
Guilty or innocent?
She had seen the eyes of many criminals, in fact, looked into some of the deadliest eyes known to man. Roger Williams had gentleness.
“Who are you two?” Roger asked, his fingers entwined on the table. His nervousness was like a live charge in the room. It laced his words and made him fidget.
“I’m Mark Reeves, and this is Lindsey Paxton,” Mark offered. “We will be representing you.”
“Yes,” Lindsey added. “We’re your new attorneys.”
Roger’s face clouded with confusion. “Where is Mr. Paxton?”
“Mr. Paxton, my father, has taken ill,” Lindsey explained. “Mr. Reeves and I will be taking over.”
“Excuse me for being blunt, but I trust Mr. Paxton. How do I know I can do the same with the two of you?
Lindsey was a bit surprised by the question, considering the meekness of his exterior. “I understand your concerns.”
Mark reached inside his portfolio and slid a piece of paper onto the table. “I brought a copy of a resume for you, Mr. Williams. It includes credentials for both Ms. Paxton and me.”
Roger picked up the paper and started reading. Mark continued, “There are a lot of questions we need answered. If you accept our representation, then we hope to get started today.”
Lindsey was irritated that she didn’t know what it included, and made a mental note to have a little talk with Mark. “You both appear more than qualified,” Roger said, looking up from the paper. “I don’t mean to be difficult. This has been a horrible experience, being accused of such horrible acts.”
“Murder,” Mark said. “You’ve been accused of murder. I think it’s important we speak frankly about what we are up against.”
Lindsey gave Mark a warning look. She was quite sure Roger knew what he was accused of, and didn’t need to have it crammed down his throat. “Mind if we sit down?” she asked, indicating the table with a wave of her hand. Roger nodded, and Lindsey and Mark sat down, side by side, directly in front of Roger, each pulling out a legal pad and pen.
“The first thing we need to do is get the facts straight and get your side of the story. Forgive me, but I really have to ask this question. Did you kill those girls?”
His eyes widened. “No,” he said vehemently, hands slamming the table. “I did not kill anyone, Ms. Paxton.”
“Then why do they think you did?” Mark asked, leaning forward, a challenge in his voice.
Roger sank back into his chair, his fight seeming to evaporate. “I guess they need someone to blame.” He exhaled loudly and then rested his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to them. “Look, I would like to think my own attorneys have confidence in my innocence. Mr. Paxton believed me. What do I need to do to prove to you that I’m innocent?” There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice.
Mark sat the pencil he held on the table. “I assure you, we are aware of Mr. Paxton’s feeling on the matter.” Mark paused and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you because you are facing some tough times and you need to be ready. A jury will want to believe you’re guilty.” When Roger started to speak, Mark held up a staying hand. “Just hear me out.” Roger sat back in his chair and reluctantly nodded. “The jury will want vindication for those girls. Crying parents and friends in the courtroom will only make matters worse. We,” he waved a finger between him and Lindsey, “
are human, just like the jury. The only difference is that we have a job to do. And that job is to provide you with the best defense available. In the end, guilty or innocent, we are protecting the system that protects the people of our nation by offering you our best. We are good at our jobs and neither of us like to lose.”
Roger started shaking his head, distress in the depths of his eyes. “You think I’m guilty.”
Lindsey leaned forward, giving Roger a direct look. “We don’t have any opinions at this point. None. But in reality, our opinions don’t matter. It’s what the jury thinks that counts. Our job is to make sure they vote not guilty.”
“But if you believe in me, it will affect how you represent me. Do you deny that as fact?” he challenged.
Lindsey swallowed. He was right, but an attorney never admitted that out loud. Mark saved her the discomfort of answering by jumping in with a quick reply. “Actually, I do. You will get the best defense possible, regardless of our opinions.”
“That’s right,” Lindsey said in quiet agreement. It was really true. Lindsey and Mark were both good at their jobs, a lot better than a lot of attorneys ever hoped to be. Years off the job made her no less confident in her ability to deliver results.
When Roger didn’t reply, Mark flipped open his notebook and pulled out a piece of paper, then slid it in front of him. “This is a list of questions. I need you to take the time and answer them in detail. Today if possible.”
Roger picked up the paper and scanned it. Lindsey discreetly eyed it herself. She didn’t know Mark had prepared the questionnaire, but she couldn’t help but be impressed. Still, she would have liked to have known in advance.
“There’s a lot of questions here,” Roger commented.
Mark nodded. “Yes, there are. Everything I could think of, up to this point, that opposing counsel will target or ask in any way, shape, or form. There are some key questions we need to go ahead and discuss. Once we review the completed questionnaire, we will be likely to have a lot more to discuss as well.”
Lindsey cleared her throat. “That said, let’s get those key questions answered. She looked at her notes. “Did you know any or all of the victims?” She knew the answer already but it was good to hear it from him, the way he would tell the prosecutor.
“They were students in my classes,” Roger responded.. A flash of pain dashed through his eyes.
“Two of them died on nights that you tutored them,” Mark commented.
“I know, but I didn’t kill them. Someone must have been watching. I tutored all of them at least two times, but not during the same semester.” He looked from Lindsey to Mark. “I swear, I feel like someone is framing me.”
His response did little to help his defense, and Mark dismissed it with his next question. “Is there anyone you suspect? A student who knew them all, another teacher?”
“My classes are huge,” he said in a defeated tone. “We are talking a major university here. I don’t even know all of the students’ names. The ones who take advantage of tutoring are really the only ones I know well.”
Mark’s expression remained indiscernible. “Where can we get a list of everyone you tutored?”
“I’m required to key tutoring information into a database at the university, but I keep records at my house as well. My sister is watching over my place, so if you need the list, she can help you.”
Lindsey was desperate for some sort of bone, a tidbit to help her defend him. “We need another common denominator other than you. A place the girls hung out, a person they all hung out with, something, anything?
He shook his head as he spoke. “There are popular hangouts for the campus crowds, but as I said, NYU is a big school with a massive student body,” he said in a defeated tone and then added, “and a multitude of hangouts to match.”
Mark leaned back in his chair. “What about the last victim, Elizabeth Moore? You were seen going into her home the night of her murder.”
Roger ran a hand through his hair. “She was getting over losing her mother to cancer. I was like a father figure to her, I think. She was having trouble with her grades and really life in general.” He frowned, his eyes seeming to replay the past. “She started crying during the tutoring session that night, so I offered to walk her home. To be honest, I was worried that she was on the brink of a real disaster.”
Lindsey interjected, “What do you mean disaster?”
“She was partying a lot, drinking too much. I knew because she was late to class several times, and she had fallen asleep during lectures, that kind of thing. I confronted her during a tutoring session and told her she was making it hard as hell for me to pass her.” He shook his head. “The girl was headed for trouble.”
“Do you know where she usually partied?” Lindsey asked.
He grimaced. “I’m afraid not. It was out of character for me to even speak of personal matters with a student.” He glanced from Mark to Lindsey as if he was trying to read their thoughts. “It doesn’t look good for me, does it?”
Lindsey responded in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, carefully avoiding promises of any sort. “The evidence is fairly circumstantial from what we can tell.” She held up a finger. “However,” she said with emphasis, “it would help if we had another angle on the murders, another suspect perhaps. That’s what we’re going to look for over the next few days.”
“Mr. Williams,” Mark said and then paused. “Roger,” he corrected before continuing. “We do need you to know, people have been convicted on far less evidence. Though Lindsey is absolutely correct, the evidence is fairly circumstantial, the reality still stands as mentioned before; the jury will want justice for those girls. You are the common denominator, and without anything else for us to latch onto, it will be hard to create doubt in their minds.” Mark spoke the cold, hard truth. Though she had gotten Hudson off in similar circumstances, he hadn’t had some as incriminating as the visit to Elizabeth Moore’s house.
“Do you have any enemies?” Mark asked.
“No, none,” he said adamantly. “I keep to myself.”
Mark’s expression held skepticism, as did his tone. “None? Come now, everyone has some enemies.”
“Really,” Roger insisted. “I keep to myself.”
Lindsey thought he seemed a bit of a hermit. “Have you ever lived out of state?”
“No, why?” he asked in a puzzled voice.
“Just being thorough,” she commented. “Can you think of anything else we should know?”
“No,” he said in a defeated tone. “I wish I could say I did.”
Mark stood, and Lindsey followed his lead. Roger’s head flew up to watch their movement, but he didn’t stand. “We’ll be in contact,” Lindsey told him. We’re filing a continuance to get more investigation time. We feel optimistic we’ll get it under the circumstances, but we’ll keep you posted.”
Mark added, “Finish that questionnaire.”
Walking around the table, Mark knocked on the door as he hit a buzzer. Lindsey frowned. The double-kill action indicated impatience, but upon examination of his features, Mark was nothing but calm.
Something had him uptight. She wondered . . .
* * * * *
Mark hated interrogation rooms.
Walking, Lindsey by his side, he was damn glad to be done with Roger Williams.
Opening the passenger’s door to his black BMW, he let his hand drift to the small of Lindsay’s back as he guided her into the car and tried not to stare at her very long, very addictive legs. A much-needed distraction from the edginess that had built during their little chat with Roger. He shut the door and walked to his side of the car, Lindsey on his mind.
Damn, how he wanted to pull down her walls and see the real woman. There was no doubt in his mind they would sizzle together.
Working by her side only seemed to ignite the heat he felt for her. Something about the way she handled herself . . . her confidence was sexy as hell. And he’d taken every opportunity possible to t
ouch her, to remind her of the attraction between them. As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, she twisted around to face him.
“What do you think?” she asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.
He rubbed his temple and sighed, intentionally turning away from Lindsey. He needed to focus on Roger Williams rather than getting Lindsey undressed. “I think,” he said, “I have a headache.”
“Is that why you were so impatient to get the door open?”
Mark’s head jerked around in surprise. “How did you know that?”
Lindsey smiled. “Never underestimate me, Mark Reeves. Have you always been claustrophobic?”
His eyes narrowed. No one had ever guessed his phobia. He was very good at hiding it. That Lindsey had, only served to make her more alluring. “Since I was five and got locked in a cellar for four hours. Those interrogation rooms always seem to bring it back. I know damn well I wasn’t obvious. How did you guess?”
She shrugged. “I had a friend in high school who was claustrophobic. When you knocked and hit the buzzer at the same time, it set off a light bulb.”
A slow smile filled Mark’s face. He had to respect her sharpness. No wonder she had been so successful in the courtroom. Mark flipped the air conditioner on high and then turned his attention back to Lindsey. “You know what I think, Counselor?”
She gave him a questioning look.
“You haven’t lost your touch,” he said, and then reached out and ran his fingers down a strand of her long blond hair.
“How would you know?” she questioned. “You’ve never even seen me in action before.”
Mark’s eyes danced with a dangerous challenge. “I’d like to,” he said in a low voice, not taking his eyes from hers.
He saw her swallow, and knew she was nervous. But he also had seen the flare of heat in her eyes. Abruptly, she looked away. “Is he innocent, Mark?”
He chuckled lightly at her change of subjects, letting her know he was onto her. “What do you think?”
She turned her gaze to him and frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not comfortable going with my gut anymore.”