Taken to the Edge

“So what’s the bottom line?” Ford asked, intensely aware that the evening was slipping away. He wanted to have an answer for Robynas soon as possible.

Daniel tapped a finger to his chin. “I think there’s enough to warrant an investigation.”

Yes! “I’d like Raleigh to take the case. She has experience with—”

“Raleigh just took on the Simonetti case, the guy who supposedly shot his girlfriend.”

“Well, Joe Kinkaid, then. He’s been asking for—”

“I gave him the Blanchard case this morning.”

Damn. Who did that leave? Project Justice wasn’t a large foundation. They received far more requests each month than they could take on, and regrettably had to turn down cases even when the evidence seemed strong.

“Who, then?”

“With your resignation—which I have not accepted, by the way—we’re running at full capacity and then some. While I feel strongly that the Jasperson case should get some attention, I don’t have anyone free. And I won’t have any of my people neglect a case they’ve already committed to. Nothing gets done half-assed around Project Justice.”

Ford knew that. No one got a job with the founation unless they were willing to work nights and weekends when called for. Daniel was passionate about his vocation, and he demanded that same dedication from his people.

“The fact of the matter is,” Daniel said, looking up from the screen, “if you don’t work this case, no one will.” He sighed. “I simply don’t have the manpower.”

If it had been anyone else, Ford would have felt manipulated. However, Daniel Logan didn’t play games, not with Ford anyway. If he said the personnel were stretched to the limit, then they were.

“Would you even want me to take this on?” Ford asked. “After the Copelson case…” He let that hang in the air.

“The Copelson case was a mistake,” Daniel said.

“It was worse than a mistake. Using my skills to get that animal out of jail was a crime. They should have put me behind bars.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, Hyatt. The cops manufactured evidence on that case, and you proved it. He was unfairly convicted.”

“Unfairly convicted, and guilty as hell,” Ford muttered. He should have seen the guy’s rotten soul oozing out his pores.

“Better to let a hundred guilty men go free than one innocent man—”

“I know the saying,” Ford said impatiently. It was emblazoned on the gold seal in the front foyer of the Project Justice offices. He wished he could be as calm and businesslike as Daniel, to simply admit a mistake, learn from it and move on. But Daniel hadn’t seen Katherine Hannigan in the hospital, the savageries done to her body. “So if I don’t take the Jasperson case, no one will?”

“That’s the truth, I’m afraid.”

Damn it. “Fine,” he gritted out. “I’ll take it.” But at what cost to his soul, he didn’t know.

CHAPTER TWO

“MS. JASPERSON!” CAME the panicked summons. “My pot keeps collapsing.”

Suppressing a smile, Robyn hurried to the aid of one of her summer school ceramics students who was using a pottery wheel for the first time. Yesterday, his “pot” would have meant something else entirely. Today Arnie was lost in the throes of creativity, the feel of the wet clay, the joy of creating something out of nothing.

Sure enough, the tall, thin vessel he’d been painstakingly working on had fallen in on itself and was now a formless lump of clay.

“That’s the fun thing about pottery,” she said. “If you ruin something, you can just add some more water and start over. No need to throw it out. I think for this first pot you might try making something a little shorter and the walls a little thicker.”

“But I was gonna make a vase,” he objected. “For my mama.”

“Vases come in all shapes and sizes.” She loved it when the tough-talking kids expressed their love for their mamas. Arnie was still just a baby. He’d been arrested twice for defacing public property, but it wasn’t too late for him to realize that creating something beautiful was a whole lot more fun than destroying something. She’d started this summer pro-gram after only a year of teaching. At first, she had donated her time. Now she received funding from a grant, enough to buy materials and pay herself a small stipend.

She showed Arnie an example of the kind of vase he might attempt. It was squat with thick walls, but it had a dramatic red glaze with blue streaks. “Can I make mine red like that?”

“Sure.”

“All right, then.” Satisfied, he followed Robyn’s instructions for getting the new vase started, then she left him to his own devices and went to check her cell phone again. It was almost two o’clock, and she hadn’t yet heard from Ford. His forty-eight hours would be up soon.

She didn’t know what had disillusioned Ford. He’d been a serious student and athlete in school, a hard worker. But he’d also had an infectious smile—especially around people who needed cheering up.

He’d had no smile for her last night.

She knew she was right about him. He might have been wrong about her back in high school when he’d laid out her punishment for supposedly stealing those art supplies. But she’d recognized even then that he operated under a moral guidance system that saw no room for compromise. He’d seen things in black and white, right and wrong, just and unjust. And that was exactly the sort of person she needed to free Eldon.

“Okay, kids.” She pulled herself back to the moment. “It’s time to put away our supplies and clean up.”

“What about my pot?” Arnie never took his eyes off the vessel he formed with clumsy hands.

Pleased that he hadn’t given up at the first suggestion that freedom was imminent, she said, “You can finish up. I’ll help you put things away.”

A few minutes later, beaming over his crooked vase, Arnie flashed Robyn a grin. “Thanks, Mrs. J,” he said as he washed his hands, speaking quietly so his friends wouldn’t hear him being polite to a teacher. Then he grabbed his backpack and ran to catch up with the others.

Robyn’s smile faded. Why didn’t Ford call and tell her something?

A soft tap sounded on the door, and Robyn’s throat constricted with apprehension. Could it be Ford? Had he come in person to deliver bad news? But Ford wouldn’t be so tentative, she reasoned, and then she saw who it was.

She wasn’t particularly anxious to see the woman who had replaced her in her ex-husband’s eyes. Trina was everything Robyn was not—petite, curvaceous, exotic. She could also be a royal pain in the rear. But it was her husband in prison, Robyn reminded herself. It had been Trina’s idea to contact Project Justice, and then to approach Ford personally, since he’d grown up in their town.

Robyn opened the door. “Hello, Trina.”

Trina’s eyes were shiny with imminent tears. “I couldn’t wait to hear from you. I was going crazy just sit ting at home and doing nothing.”

Trina hovered at the doorway, peeking past Robyn into the classroom. She wore a short sundress that showed off her spectacular legs and matching sandals, her dark hair stylishly mussed, every eyelash in place. No matter what was going on in her life, she always man aged to present a polished facade in public.

Robyn felt like a bum in comparison wearing her clay-stained jeans, her shoulder-length hair pulled back into a bandanna.

“Come on in. The kids are gone and I was just straightening up. I haven’t heard anything yet.”

Trina fairly vibrated with nervous energy as she click-clacked in on her heels.

“Why is it taking so long?” Trina said on a moan. She looked around, maybe for a place to sit, but in the end she just stood there. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trusted Ford. Maybe he forgot about us and went golfing or something.”

“He didn’t forget.” Of that Robyn was sure, though he probably wished he could. He sure hadn’t looked happy two nights ago.

“Are you done for the day?” Trina fanned herself. The studio was always hot in the summer, both from the kilns and a lack of insulation against the blazing Texas sun. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

Robyn didn’t really feel like having a beer at two in the afternoon. But Trina obviously needed companionship. “Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere cheap,” Trina said. “I have to watch my spending. The lawyers put a pretty good dent in our bank account, and obviously with Eldon in prison I have very little coming in.”

Robyn tried to hide her surprise. Eldon had been worth millions. All of those appeals must have been costly, but could he and Trina have gone through that much money? Enough that Trina had to watch her pennies?

People had said Trina, a hairstylist, had married El don for his money. Eldon’s high-society friends had never embraced her, and his parents had liked her even less than they’d liked Robyn. But Trina certainly hadn’t balked at spending whatever was necessary to free her husband.

Since Robyn had been similarly judged, she tended to believe Trina really loved Eldon. The two women never would have been friends under normal circumstances, but they’d come to know each other during Eldon’s or deal, and Trina had been kind to Robyn when she’d grieved over the loss of her child.

Robyn never had been one to turn up her nose at friendship. Friends were in short supply right now. Many had deserted her after the divorce. Others had drifted away after the kidnapping, feeling uncomfortable around Robyn and her grief. The few close friends who remained thought she was insane for trying to free the man who killed her son.

Public sentiment against Eldon had been incredibly strong and still was.

As they reached Trina’s white Cadillac, Robyn’s cell phone rang. The ring-tone was an earthy hip-hop song one of her students had downloaded for her when she’d left her phone unguarded. Trina froze as Robyn fumbled for the phone.

“Yes?”

“It’s Ford Hyatt. Can I meet with you and Trina?”

“Now?”

“As soon as possible. I’m at a bar and grill called Pacifica. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes. We can be there in half an hour.”

“I’ll be watching for you.” He disconnected. A man of few words.

“Was it him?” Trina asked eagerly. “Is Project Justice taking on the case?”

“He wants to meet with us.”

Trina clamped her eyes shut. “That sounds like bad news. He would just tell you over the phone if it was good news, right?”

“Let’s not assume the worst,” Robyn said, though she suspected Trina was right. Ford had sounded solemn. He might want to deliver bad news in person, to soften the blow. But then, Ford had turned into a solemn man. Again, she wondered what circumstances had caused that bleak look in his eye, and why she’d had to track him down at a bar where he was drinking—alone.

PACIFICA WASN’T THE SORT of place where Ford hung out. It was an upscale suburban bar, with a posh, funky decor that appealed to Houston’s young professionals and where the martinis cost ten dollars and came in pretty colors.

Raleigh had chosen it. Raleigh Shinn was the senior attorney at Project Justice. She would consult on the Jasperson case, file the necessary papers and make court appearances. Ford liked working with Raleigh because she was thorough, knowledgeable and a hard worker. On the other hand, she was utterly humorless. He’d never seen her wear anything but a severe suit, her reddish hair slicked back into a tight bun. She had a pretty face and a stunning figure, but she downplayed her looks to a ridiculous degree.

As they sat at a corner table waiting for Robyn and Trina, Raleigh nursed a club soda.

“They’re late,” Raleigh said.

“Probably stuck in traffic.”

“I’ve been digging around in the backgrounds of these two ladies. The first Mrs. Jasperson has a juvenile record, sealed. The second is no angel, either. She’s been charged with everything from public intoxication to disturbing the peace to solicitation.”

“Solicitation? I thought those were just rumors.” What was it with rich men and their prostitutes?

“The charge didn’t stick. I think she was more of a party girl—sleeping with rich men in return for nice dinners out, clothes, jewelry. Eldon apparently had an appetite for bad girls.”

“But by the time Robyn married him, she’d turned her life around.” He’d done some digging around of his own. Robyn had gone to college and was now a teacher. Who would have guessed?

“Robyn, is it? First names?”

“She’s an old friend. Well, acquaintance, anyway. I can tell you what’s in her juvey record. Shoplifting, underage drinking, misdemeanor possession. But she went through one of those ‘Scared Straight’ programs and turned herself around.”

Raleigh raised one skeptical eyebrow at Ford. “How do you know so much?”

“I went to high school with her,” he admitted. “Green Prairie High was a good school, not too many troublemakers. Robyn was the exception.” She had alternately fascinated him and horrified him. That a pretty, intelligent girl like Robyn would have such disregard for her future, that she would choose to hang around slackers, losers and dopers, confused the hell out of him.

He’d tried reaching out to her. He’d caught her alone for once, sitting in the cafeteria with a crummy school-lunch taco in one hand, the Cliff’s Notes for Hamlet in the other. It was shortly after she’d returned from a stint in juvey.

He’d set his tray down across from her, then wished he’d rehearsed what he would say beforehand. Normally he wasn’t tongue-tied around girls. But Robyn, who seemed more adult and worldly to him than the other girls, had him flummoxed.

“You need any help with the Bard?” he’d asked.

She’d looked up at him, puzzled and not very friendly. “The what?”

“Shakespeare. The Bard.”

“Oh. No, thanks, got it covered.”

“I did Hamlet last year.” Ford had taken all advanced placement classes, so he was ahead of Robyn, even though they were both seniors. “I’d be happy to help you study for the test.”

She’d set her book down and stared at him. “Are you coming on to me?”

“I’m offering to help you study.” And, yes, maybe secretly he’d been hoping something would happen. But he hadn’t admitted that at the time, not even to himself.

She shook her head. “You have got to be kidding.” She picked up her books and strolled away without a backward glance, leaving her half-finished taco behind.

Ford had mentally kicked himself for even trying with a girl like Robyn.

It wasn’t long after that she’d been accused of stealing those art supplies and had come before the student government tribunal. She probably thought he’d voted her guilty to get back at her for rebuffing him. That hadn’t been the case; he’d honestly thought her guilty and still did. But he’d taken some small gram of satisfaction from seeing her punished. In fact, he’d been the one to devise her penalty.

“Is that them?” Raleigh asked, nodding toward the door.

Ford waved to get their attention. “Yeah, that’s them.”

Curvaceous Trina Jasperson looked slick in a lime-green sundress, the neckline plunging to reveal impressive cleavage. Her hair moved just so as she walked her bouncy walk, and she wore enough makeup to lend truth to her questionable past.

Beside her, tall, long-legged Robyn wore a gauzy, paisley shirt and faded jeans with a big smudge on the thigh. Her hair was pulled back in a careless ponytail. No kitten heels tonight. She wore flat, leather sandals. And still, she made his mouth grow dry. There was something about her…she reminded him of a mustang filly, alert and high-spirited, loath to trust anyone.

He bet she’d hated coming to him for help. But she’d done it, to save the life of a man who’d cheated on her and betrayed her. That took guts, and he admired her for that.

The two women joined Ford and Raleigh at the table. By the time introductions were made, the waitress came by. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

“Bud Light,” Trina said without hesitation.

“Iced tea, please.” Robyn’s polite smile faded the moment the waitress disappeared. She looked straight at Ford as if no one else were at the table. “Please don’t leave us in suspense. Are you taking the case?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I guess I should have told you that over the phone.”

“Like, yeah,” Trina said, grinning suddenly. “I was so nervous on the way over here I chewed the polish off my nails.”

Rather than berate him, Robyn just looked relieved. “Tell us what our next step is.”

Raleigh was prepared for that question. She pulled her briefcase onto the table and extracted a thick sheaf of papers Robyn and Trina would have to sign, basically naming Raleigh as the attorney of record for Eldon and holding Project Justice and its agents harmless, whatever the outcome of their effort to free Eldon Jasperson.

Trina peered suspiciously at her stack of papers. “This isn’t gonna cost me anything, is it? I mean, like, y’all do this for free, don’t you? Like a public service?”

Robyn visibly tensed while Raleigh, used to such questions, quietly explained to Trina the foundation would handle all reasonable expenses.

She worried at her lower lip. “My lawyer has told me not to sign anything without his okay.”

“Jeez Louise, Trina, just sign the damn things,” Robyn said. “We don’t have time for more lawyers.”

Trina looked chagrined. “You’re right, of course. Do you have a pen?”

Ford fought the urge to reach over and touch Robyn’s arm, to soothe her jangled nerves. They were all going to be pulling their hair out by the end of this thing. No use going into it frazzled. But he didn’t dare touch her, not when he was so blatantly aware of her sexuality. He recalled her cold rebuff from high school and decided she might not welcome any friendly overtures from him, no matter how well-meant. She’d hired him to perform a service, nothing more, and he would do well to remember that.

With the legalities out of the way, Raleigh took off. She had a court appearance the following day, and her role on this case was strictly advisory. He would bother her only when he had legal questions or requirements—or enough evidence to move forward.

“She scares me.” Trina took a long draw from her beer, which the waitress had just delivered. “I’m glad she’s on our side. She should do something with her hair.”

Robyn again tensed, her hands gripping her glass until her knuckles turned white.

“Raleigh is what I call coldly efficient,” Ford said, attempting to ease the tension. “We’re lucky she agreed to squeeze us into her schedule today. Are you ladies hungry? I can order up some food.”

“I don’t eat fish,” Trina said. “They got something else here? Hamburger steak, maybe?”

“They have all kinds of things. I’ll get you a menu. Robyn?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“We’ll be working a lot of long, stressful hours,” Ford said. “I want you both to eat well and stay hydrated.”

“You make it sound like we’re running a marathon,” Robyn said.

“We are, in a way. Given the deadline.”

At this grim reminder, Robyn sobered and Trina’s eyes filled with tears. “Try not to remind me, okay? I just get so upset every time I think about it.” The waitress brought menus, but Trina waved hers away. “I can’t eat, either.”

With a sigh, Ford ordered himself an overpriced, rare tuna steak and a side of pasta. He tended to eat a lot when he was in the thick of a case.

Once the waitress left, Ford cleared his throat. “All right then, let’s start at the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” Trina asked.

“We can start with the weekend of the murder.”

“Kidnapping,” Robyn said in a firm voice. “Although realistically I know my son must be…gone, we shouldn’t assume anything. All we know for sure is that he disappeared.”

“Point taken. Eldon had visitation with your son that weekend?” Ford asked. He knew the answers to most of the questions he would ask, but he wanted to hear them from the source.

“Yes. He kept Justin every other weekend, and sometimes during the week, too. He seemed to enjoy the time he spent with Justin, never complained or tried to weasel out of it.”

“He really did,” Trina agreed. “That kid was everything to him.”

“And was there anything unusual about this weekend? Any confusion or resentment, any arguments?”

“If you’ve read the trial transcript, you know that Eldon and I had an argument. But it wasn’t a big deal like the prosecutors made it. His mother was trying to tell me how to raise my child, and Eldon thought his mother could do no wrong.”

“You can say that again,” Trina put in. “She’s a control freak.”

“It was just the usual stuff all divorced couples argue about. Not a big deal.”

“So Eldon picked up Justin after work, took him to his house, and…where were you, Trina?”

“At a professional development conference. I was working to get my massage therapy license at the time.”

“And this conference was…where?”

“Corpus Christi, at the Sheraton Hotel. I tried not to hang around too much when Eldon had Justin, so they could do their father-son thing without the evil stepmother getting in the way.”

“The police verified your alibi?”

Trina nodded. “Oh, yes. A bunch of us from the salon where I used to work went to the conference together.”

“Okay. So Eldon maintains that he was home, alone, with Justin on that Friday night. But for some reason he went out for pizza at midnight.” Ford consulted his notes. “A large half pepperoni, half black olive pizza.”

“Black olive?” Trina snorted. “Who told you that? Eldon hates black olives. I’m the one who likes olives.”

“I got it straight from the police report,” Ford said. That was when he realized Robyn was giving him urgent, covert hand signals to shut up—and he recalled that Trina knew nothing of the mystery woman Eldon had supposedly entertained that night.

Well, here was the evidence, pretty obvious even to someone who didn’t know Eldon hated black olives. Most people don’t order a half-and-half pizza for one person.

“That just goes to show you how incompetent the Green Prairie Police are,” Trina said, all but spitting. “I mean, if they can’t get a little thing like that right—” She stopped, thinking it through. Her eyes widened, and she set her beer bottle down with a clunk.

Ford looked at Robyn, not quite sure what she wanted him to say. Personally, he thought they should put all their cards on the table and work as a team. But he didn’t want to be the one to spill it to Trina that her husband had cheated on her.

“He…might not have been alone,” Robyn said gently.

“That’s ridiculous!” Trina had turned pale under her tan. She scraped her chair back and stood abruptly, bumping the table and nearly upsetting their drinks. Several other patrons looked over to see what the commotion was about. “Eldon was not unfaithful! My husband loves me. He’s always loved me. How could you say things like that about him when he’s not here to defend himself? Hasn’t he been bad-mouthed enough?”

“Trina…” Robyn tried, but Trina had turned and was already marching out the door, head held high, heels clacking noisily on the wood floor.

“Well, that went smoothly,” Ford said, letting out a gusty breath.

“I told you Trina didn’t know about the mystery woman,” Robyn said.

“She would have found out sooner or later,” Ford said.

“I didn’t want to tell her unless we actually found the woman. Trina’s been through so much—I didn’t want her to suffer more.”

“You’ve been through worse.”

Robyn looked down, her lashes casting long shadows on her cheeks. “I won’t argue that. But I’ve dealt with my grief. Trina’s husband is on death row, and I can’t imagine what horrible images haunt her at night when she’s trying to sleep. I know she’s kind of melodramatic, but she must be pretty torn up.”

“Tell me more about her. Did she bear any animosity toward Justin?”

“Trina? No, I don’t think so. I didn’t have a lot of contact with her until Eldon was arrested, but Eldon never mentioned any problem.”