Benedict didn’t reach for it or glance at it. “Now why is it,” he mocked, “that announcement doesn’t surprise me?”
“Maybe you’re clairvoyant,” Paul snapped. “Either way, the evidence is in there—two videotapes and a letter. Don’t take my word for anything, Benedict, see for yourself. And then if you have even a trace of decency left, do something to alleviate her suffering.”
“How much do you think it will take,” he asked with scathing sarcasm, “to ‘alleviate her suffering’? One million dollars? Two million? Twice as much, because you plan to share the bounty with her?”
Planting his hands flat on Benedict’s desk, Paul leaned forward and said savagely, “I should have let the Federales beat the shit out of you all the way to the Texas border!”
“Really? Why didn’t you?”
Straightening, Paul raked him with a scornful look. “Because Julie made me promise before she turned you in that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. The only thing she lied to you about was being pregnant. She did it so that you’d let her join you. She must have been insane to think she was in love with you, you heartless, arrogant bastard.”
At that, Benedict got out of his chair and started around his desk. ‘Try it,” Paul invited holding his arms out to his sides. “Please try it, movie star. Just throw the first punch, so I can finish it for you.”
“Enough!” Matt Farrell thundered, grabbing Zack’s arm. “Richardson, you’ve had your five minutes. O’Hara!” he shouted. “Show Mr. Richardson to the door.”
Joe O’Hara instantly materialized in the room from the doorway where he’d been eavesdropping. “Nuts, it was just starting to get good,” he said. Eyeing Paul Richardson with a modicum of respect, he gestured grandly to the door and said, “I’ve never met a lawman before who wears a suit and is willin’ to step out from behind his badge and put up his fists. Allow me to show you to your car.”
His humor did nothing to diffuse the tension that stretched taut in the room when he left.
“I think we should go,” Matt said.
“And I think,” Meredith argued, drawing a startled look from both men, “we should wait while Zack looks at the evidence inside that envelope.” She turned to him. “I also think it’s time I tell you that I believe beyond all doubt that Julie loved you very much. I also believe that everything Richardson said is true.”
“If that’s what you think,” Zack retorted with biting sarcasm, “then I suggest you take the ‘evidence’ with you and look at it yourself, Meredith. Then you can burn it.”
Matt’s face went white with fury, “I’ll give you five seconds to apologize to my wife.”
“I’ll only need two,” Zack said curtly, and Meredith smiled before Matt did because she was listening to his words, not his tone. Reaching his hand out for hers, Zack smiled grimly. “I apologize for my tone. I was inexcusably rude.”
“Not inexcusably,” she said, studying his eyes as if searching for something. “I’ll take you up on your offer, though, and take that envelope with me, if you don’t mind.”
“Since your husband is still debating about whether or not to throw a punch at me, and since I’ve already earned it,” Zack said dryly, “I don’t think I ought to press my luck by turning you down now.”
“I think that’s very wise of you,” she said, transferring her laughing gaze to her husband. Picking up the envelope from the desk, she tucked her hand into Matt’s arm. “There was a time when the mere mention of my name could drive you to similar fury,” she reminded him gently, making a clear effort to diffuse the remaining tension between the two men.
His scowl softened to a reluctant smile. “Was I really as big a jackass as Zack is?”
She laughed. “Now there’s a question guaranteed to get me into a fight with one of you.”
Matt affectionately rumpled her hair and drew her tightly to his side.
“We’ll see you at the party after we’ve changed,” she called over her shoulder as they walked out.
“Fine,” Zack said, watching them go, marveling at the closeness they shared, at the way it had changed Matt. Once, not long ago, Zack had imagined that Julie and he—Furious that she’d even entered his mind, he walked over to the windows and opened the drapes. He wasn’t certain what he despised more—her treachery or his gullibility. At thirty-five she’d reduced him to pouring out his heart in sappy love letters and gazing at her picture for hours, not to mention risking his neck to buy her just the right wedding ring at one of the most exclusive jewelers in South America. The shame and self-disgust he felt about things like that almost outweighed his humiliation at being beaten on his knees in front of half the world. She was responsible for that, too. And everyone with a television set knew it—they knew he’d been so blindly, insanely besotted with a small-town schoolteacher that he’d risked his life to get to her.
Firmly dismissing her from his mind, Zack looked out at the increasing crowd gathering for the afternoon festivities. Glenn Close was talking to Julia Roberts. She looked up, saw him standing at the window, and waved.
Zack lifted his hand to her in a salute. On his lawn, most of them available to him at the crook of a finger, were some of the most beautiful women in the world. Bracing his hand high against the window frame, Zack studied them, searching for one who especially stood out and appealed to him—one with particularly fine eyes, a romantic mouth, and piles of sexy, healthy hair . . . someone with warmth and wit and goals and ideals . . . someone who’d thaw the ice inside of him. He shoved away from the window and headed into the master suite to change clothes. There wasn’t a big enough blow torch in the world to thaw him out and make him feel the way he had in Colorado, and even if it were possible, he’d never let it happen to him again. Behaving like a lovestruck ass was not his style. He must have been insane in Colorado. No doubt it had been a combination of the time and place. Under normal circumstances, he’d never have felt that way about any woman alive.
He was going to be more attentive to his guests than he’d been so far today, he vowed. He didn’t know why, after only six weeks, some of his delight in his renewed career was already beginning to fade. He was exhausted, he decided, unbuttoning his shirt. In six short weeks, in addition to meeting with six producers, five studio heads, and countless other business associates, he’d also read dozens of scripts, managed to bargain the tenants out of both his houses, hire new staffs, rehire part of his old staff, buy two cars, and order a plane. He needed to relax and enjoy the taste of success now that it was his again, he decided, tossing his shirt onto the bed. Behind him the door opened, and he turned, his hands on his belt.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Zack,” the redhead said with an inviting smile as she walked purposefully forward, her breasts swelling invitingly from her halter top, hips swaying in their long silk pants, jewels sparkling on her wrists and fingers. “And I’ve found you just as you’re getting undressed. Isn’t that an amazing coincidence.”
“Amazing,” he lied, trying to remember who the hell she was. “But then that’s what bedrooms are for, isn’t it?”
“That’s not all they’re for,” she whispered, sliding her hands up his chest.
Gently, he took her hands between his. “Later,” he said, turning her around heading her firmly toward the door. “I need a shower, and then I have to get out there and play host.”
73
“GREAT PARTY, ZACK,” AN UNMISTAKABLE voice whispered teasingly in his ear, “but where’d you find so many monkeys willing to wear fancy clothes?” Grinning, Zack turned away from the group talking to him beside the pool and looped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“Why, to relieve your monotony?” she said, surveying the party that was getting into full swing at one o’clock in the afternoon.
When she started to move away, he tightened his grip. “Don’t abandon me,” he joked. “Irwin Levine is bearing down on us and he’s going to pounce
on me about a film Empire wants me to do. Stay by my side for the rest of the day.”
“Coward, I’ll show you how to handle this.” Ignoring his warning squeeze, she held out her long fingers with their lacquered nails. “Irwin, darling,” she purred, kissing his cheek, “Zack wants you to go away and let him enjoy his party in peace.”
“Bitchy as always, aren’t you, Barbra,” he snapped.
“Nice work,” Zack said dryly, watching the other man stamp away in affront after a minute. “My agent has that same effect on a lot of people these days when he starts talking about money.”
“Never mind your agent. Why didn’t you answer my letters, you jerk? I don’t send care packages to prisons for just anyone, you know.”
“Because I was ashamed and I didn’t want charity. Now shut up and hum something pretty to me while we circulate.”
Laughing, she looped her arm around his waist and began softly singing, “ ‘People—people who need people are the luckiest people’ . . .”
74
“THAT DOES IT!” MEREDITH JUMPED up from the sofa in the living room where she and Matt and Joe O’Hara had watched the videotapes that the FBI agent had handed over. Brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes, she shoved all the ‘evidence’ into its envelope. “I’ll make Zachary Benedict look at these if I have to tie him up first!”
“Meredith,” Matt said gently, grabbing her wrist. “You were right about Julie, I can see that, but I know Zack. You can’t make him watch those until and unless he’s ready to do it.”
She hesitated, thinking, then a resolute smile dawned across her face. “Yes I can—and I know how!”
He stood up. “If you’re determined to try, I’ll go with you and hold him down while you tie him up.”
“That won’t work,” she said. “You’ll lose your temper, but if you aren’t there, I can use you very effectively to shame him into doing it.”
“I doubt it.”
“Let me try,” she said, leaning over and kissing his forehead. “If I need your help, I’ll come and get you.”
Before he could object, which he looked to be on the verge of doing, Meredith slid open the patio doors and headed across the back lawn. Spotting Zack standing by the pool surrounded by a group of movie stars and studio heads, she lifted her chin and struck off in that direction, her Italian sandals slapping softly against her bare heels as she wended her way purposefully around white-coated waiters passing trays and throngs of guests gossiping about each other.
Zack was laughing at a joke when he caught sight of Meredith walking across the yard with a large brown envelope in her hand and his smile abruptly faded. “Excuse me a minute,” he said to Barbra, his eyes narrowing on that envelope.
“I wondered where you and Matt were,” he said with his most deliberately disarming smile as he carefully avoided the sight of the envelope in her hand. “You haven’t changed clothes yet”
“We were in the living room, watching something on the television set,” she said, and Zack realized her eyes looked as if she’d been crying. “May I speak to you alone?”
“There’s a party going on,” he pointed out evasively. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you to Kevin Costner. He asked to meet you last night.”
“Later,” she persisted stubbornly. “This really can’t wait.”
With no choice left, Zack nodded and followed her into the house and down the hall to the library. “What’s on your mind?” he said curtly, perching on the edge of his desk and turning on a lamp as she drew the curtains over the windows, throwing the room into almost total darkness.
Turning from the windows, she walked over and stood in front of him. “The contents of that envelope are on my mind.”
“I asked you to destroy what was in it.”
“Yes, you did,” she retorted, facing him like a cool blond spitfire. “And now I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“Do you feel any obligation to my husband for the things he did for you while you were in prison?”
Zack nodded warily.
“Good. Matt will not impose on your friendship to ask a favor of you in return.”
“But you will,” he concluded shortly.
“You’re right. In return for his years of loyalty and assistance, I am asking a favor in his behalf. We want you to sit in here and watch those videotapes and read the letter that’s in the envelope.”
Zack’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and started to stand. “I’ll do it later.”
“No, now.”
He glared down at her from his vastly superior height, but without any success. “It’s little enough to ask of you,” she pointed out irrefutably. “A half hour of your time.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “Will you allow me to do it alone, or do you want to watch me to make sure I keep my word?”
Having won, she conceded with disarming sweetness, “I’ll accept your word. Thank you.” She walked over, slid the first videotape into the player, turned on the set, and handed him the remote controller. “The first tape is of a news conference that Julie gave a day or two after she left you in Colorado. Have you seen it already?”
“No,” he clipped.
“Good, then you’re in for a triple shock. The second tape was filmed by an obvious amateur while you were being taken into custody in Mexico City. Keep your eyes on Julie when you’re watching that.”
When she left, Zack punched the start button on the remote controller, but he got up and walked over to the bar. The mere mention of Julie Mathison, the reminder of his stupid gullibility, made him want to drown himself in liquor. The realization that he was going to have to watch her in this room, in his house, made him swear long and eloquently as he threw ice cubes into a glass and filled it with whatever liquor was in the nearest decanter. Behind his back on the television, the mayor of the jerkwater town she lived in was announcing that she was going to give a press conference and everyone should treat her with respect.
With a contemptuous smirk, Zack walked back to his desk, perched his hip on the edge of it, and crossed his arms over his chest. Despite the fact that he was braced for the sight and sound of her, he flinched when her unforgettable face looked back at him, her dark hair caught at the nape in a bow. When she began to speak, his first reaction was mild surprise that she was so poised in front of what looked to be at least two hundred reporters.
A few minutes later, Zack slowly put his glass down, frowning with disbelief at what he was hearing. Despite the fact that he had sent her away from Colorado with every intention of crushing any feeling she had for him, she was looking at the camera, trying very successfully to make her captivity sound like a lark and Zack himself like a quick-witted hero who had amusingly thwarted her attempt to escape at a rest stop and then risked his life in an effort to rescue her from the creek during her second attempt.
At the end of her statement, when questions were being shouted at her from everywhere, she maintained her smiling poise while scrupulously avoiding incriminating Zack by giving explanations that Zack knew were honest although incomplete. When a reporter asked if he’d threatened her at gunpoint, which Zack knew he had, she’d evaded with a joke: “I knew he had a gun because I saw it, and that was enough to convince me—at least in the beginning—that I shouldn’t pick a fight with him or criticize his old movies.”
Biting back a reluctant smile at her wit, Zack sternly reminded himself that she’d probably said all this because she thought he might see her interview and be lured more quickly out of hiding. A minute later, however, when she was asked if she intended to press kidnapping charges against him, he watched her give a sunny smile and deflect the subject of what had been a federal crime with another clever joke: “I don’t think I could get a conviction. I mean, if there were women on the jury, they’d acquit him in a minute, as soon as they heard he did half the cooking and cleaning up.”
Zack reached for his drink, but a moment later her answer to a qu
estion made him set it down again, his brows drawing together in a frown of disbelief: “Miss Mathison, do you want to see Zachary Benedict captured?”
“How could anyone possibly want to see a man who was unjustly imprisoned sent back to prison? I don’t know how a jury ever convicted him of murder, but I do know that he’s no more capable of that than I am. If he were capable of it, I would not be standing here now, because as I explained to all of you a few minutes ago, I repeatedly tried to jeopardize his escape. I’d also like you to remember that when he thought we’d been found by a helicopter, his first concern was for my safety, not his own. What I’d like to see happen is for this manhunt to be stopped while someone reviews his case.”
Zack picked up the remote controller, intending to rewind the film and listen to her last answer over again, watching her face for a sign of slyness or deceit, but the next question froze his finger on the button. “Miss Mathison, are you in love with Zachary Benedict?”
He watched her hesitate, then she lifted her eyes to the camera and said with a soft smile, “At one time or another, most of the female population of this country has probably imagined themselves in love with Zachary Benedict. Now that I’ve known him, I think they showed excellent judgment. He—” She faltered, then said with a catch in her voice, “He is a very easy man for any woman to love.”
Zack hit the rewind button and played her last two answers again, watching the screen, studying her face and vocal intonations, searching for a hint of the underlying deceit he knew was there somewhere. He couldn’t find it. What he saw and heard was courage and poise and all the things he had loved about her in Colorado.
Telling himself he was overlooking something, some scheme, some hidden reason for her to behave like that in front of millions of people, he took the other videocassette out of its cardboard case, got up, and shoved it into the VCR. This time, he walked behind his desk and sat down, bracing himself to watch a scene he could never forget; a scene that had put him on his knees, humbled before the world, and all because he’d lost his mind over a scheming little liar . . .