Katy tried not to look at Margie Madden, but she couldn’t help it. She shot her a quick glance, then trained her eyes once more on the prosecutor. “I have no doubt she would have killed me. She told me she would kill me. She said it was . . . it was what she came there to do.”
Tara nodded, taking in the information. “Can you identify the person who committed this attack against you, Ms. Hart?”
“Yes.” Katy pointed at Margie. “That’s her. There at the defense table.”
“Thank you, Ms. Hart.” Tara turned. “No further questions, Your Honor.”
Katy exhaled. She had lasted through this much; now if she could only survive the cross-examination. The cameras were still locked on her, capturing every move, every nuance she might make. But she had to look at Dayne, had to see what he was feeling. Her gaze shifted, and instantly she felt the connection. He was staring at her, probably willing her to feel his support and prayers, his concern for her.
And there, looking at him, she saw what she needed to see. His eyes danced with pride, shouting at her that she had done brilliantly and that very soon they would be finished with this nightmare for good. She drew strength from him, then turned her attention to the gray-haired attorney making his way toward her.
The questions were easier than they’d been for Dayne. The man must’ve decided there was no point in attacking her character or the reasons why she was on the beach with Dayne Matthews the night of the incident. Instead he tried to imply that Katy might not have had a clear view of his client, since the attack happened from her left side. Finally, he focused on the fact that his client had used two voices that evening. Katy acknowledged that, yes, Margie had indeed spoken in two distinct tones.
“Do you believe, Ms. Hart, that the defendant thought she was two different people as she carried out her attack?”
“Yes.” Katy’s tone suggested that the issue wasn’t relevant. She resisted the urge to shrug.
“In your opinion could someone who believed they were two people possibly be considered sane?”
Tara leaped to her feet. “Objection. The question is beyond the scope of this witness’s expertise. We have established that Ms. Hart is an actress, not a psychologist.”
“Sustained.” The judge adjusted his bifocals. “Ask a different question, please.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” The defense attorney tried again. “During the attack, did you believe the defendant was insane?”
“Objection.” This time the irritation sounded in Tara’s tone. “Same thing.”
“Sustained.” Judge Nguyen gave the defense attorney a wary look. “Please avoid badgering the witness, counsel.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.” The man looked at his notes and then back at Katy. “No further questions.”
Tara was on her feet before the gray-haired attorney sat down. “Ms. Hart, once Mr. Matthews physically subdued the defendant, did you get a view of the defendant’s face?”
“Yes.”
“And she was no longer on your left side at that point?”
“No, she was in front of me.” Katy loved the way Tara worked. Whatever shred of doubt the defense attorney had stirred up in the minds of the jury, it would be eliminated after this.
“And at that time you were able to clearly identify the defendant; is that right?”
“Yes.”
“It has been mentioned several times that the attack took place at night. Can you tell the jury why you were able to see the defendant’s face so clearly?”
“That’s easy.” Katy felt more relaxed than she had the whole time she’d been on the stand. The painful part was over. “The attack happened near the parking lot. There were two bright lights nearby, so the area was almost as light as it would be in the daytime.”
Tara smiled. “No further questions.”
Katy was excused from the witness stand, and again she exchanged a quick look with Dayne. This time in his eyes she saw victory—victory for a dozen different reasons. Because it was over and they’d survived the day in court, because their testimony had been solid and a conviction was all but certain. And because Katy’s reputation had come out intact as well.
It was nearly five o’clock. The judge excused the jury and ordered them back at ten the next morning.
The media jockeyed for position trying to capture pictures of Tara talking to Katy and Dayne, but the moment lasted only a few seconds.
Tara pointed to the adjacent room. “Let’s get in there.” She smiled at them the moment the door was closed. “Great work! I won’t need you until Friday most likely. You’re on your own until then, but keep your cell phones nearby. Just in case.” She looked at Dayne’s attorney. “Joe, you’ve got Luke outside with a different car?”
“I do.” He pointed at Dayne. “The media’s buzzing with how much you two look alike. I couldn’t have planned it better.” The attorney chuckled. “Now if I only had a woman who looked like Katy, I think I could send the media on the city’s most exciting wild-goose chase.”
Katy watched Dayne, watched how he wasn’t laughing, how something strange and uneasy flashed in his expression. She would ask him about it later, what he made of the uncanny resemblance between him and Luke.
Joe Morris was going on about how Dayne and Katy could slip out now before the media had a chance to figure out what had happened. “I’ve got another press conference, so most of them will meet me out front.” He smiled at Katy. “Brilliant work, by the way.” He shifted to Tara. “Other than the insanity issue, looks like a slam dunk.”
“Maybe.” Tara was standing at the far end of the table sorting through one of her files. “The technical part will be the toughest. Psychiatrists and experts on insanity.” She gave a serious look. “Sometimes the jury gets lulled into forgetting the deliberateness, the horror of the attack.”
“You’re really worried?” Dayne leaned against the wall. It was the first time all day he’d looked defeated.
“Honestly?” Tara’s lips allowed the slightest hint of a smile. “No. But I can’t let up until I finish my closing argument. No matter how strong the case looks.”
Joe nodded toward the door. “Let’s get you two out of here. Luke’s waiting.”
“Where are we going?” Katy had her purse, but as usual she barely had time to catch her breath.
“Your hotel. You can hang out on the roof for a few hours, and then I’ve given Dayne instructions for dinner.” Joe winked at Dayne. “I think it’ll work out for you.”
Katy looked at Dayne, but his face gave away nothing. They followed Joe down the hallway, out into the main passageway, and past a group of milling photographers.
As the cameramen tried to fall in line behind the three of them, Joe held up his hand and addressed the group. “Press conference in an hour. Give us until then. Please!”
The statement worked. The press stopped and set their equipment back on the floor.
Joe led the way down two flights of stairs. “Wish the paparazzi were that easy to handle.”
Dayne was last in the line. “Yeah, big difference between newspaper and TV people and the bloodthirsty tabloid guys.”
At the main floor, Joe told them he’d be in touch.
Then they slipped out the door and into a car driven by Luke Baxter. He grinned at them. “How did it go?”
Katy and Dayne sat in the back. As soon as they had their seat belts buckled, Dayne slipped his fingers through hers. “Katy was amazing.”
“I knew she would be.” Luke smiled into the rearview mirror.
For a second, Katy looked from Luke’s image to Dayne and back again. No question about the resemblance. It seemed stronger all the time.
“Looks like we got a clean getaway.” Luke pulled onto the street and took a turn toward Katy’s hotel.
She glanced over her shoulder. He was right. For once there wasn’t a single photographer trailing them. She felt herself settle in against the back of the seat. The sensation of Dayne’s fingers through he
rs warmed her and reminded her of the peace that had been there—deep inside her—all along.
The drive to the hotel took fifteen minutes. Dayne spent most of the time talking to Luke, almost as if the two were old friends. Dayne asked about Luke’s wife and son. “And Joe says you adopted a little girl from China?”
“We did.” Luke’s eyes shone as he shook his head. “She’s a precious miracle, for sure.”
Katy stayed quiet. She knew about Malin from her conversations with Ashley. But why was Dayne so interested? Normally when the two of them had a moment’s downtime, his focus would be on her or he would fall quiet, glad for the chance to be out of the spotlight.
“You’re staying, right?” Dayne leaned forward, intent on his conversation with Luke. “You’ll be here all week, through closing arguments?”
“Definitely.”
“Good.” Dayne settled beside her again. “Maybe we can grab lunch somewhere before you go.”
“Sure.” Luke sounded impressed. Dayne was his boss’s client; he was merely the assistant.
“I’d like to hear more about Bloomington. What it was like growing up there, that sort of thing.”
Katy glanced at Dayne, trying to figure him out. Maybe that was it. Maybe the conversation had more to do with Bloomington than with some curious interest in Luke and his family. Katy reminded herself to ask him about it later. Then she let the subject go. This was a day of victory, and she wanted only to spend it with Dayne, reveling in the fact that they were finished testifying. Now—someway, somehow—they could spend the next few days together finding their way back to the conversation they’d had on the rooftop last night.
As they pulled into the hotel parking lot, Katy could hardly wait to feel the setting sun on her shoulders, to unwind in a world where the photographers couldn’t reach them. Luke stopped the car a few feet from the rear door, and instantly a few cameramen jumped from a nearby van.
“Scavengers,” Dayne muttered. “Hey, buddy—” he touched Luke’s shoulder—“thanks for the ride.”
Katy added her thanks, and they hurried from the car. Photographers snapped a couple dozen pictures of their backs as they rushed for the door. The urgency made Katy more anxious to be alone, to ask him about Luke and about whether he’d been thinking all day about last night the way she had.
Two minutes later they were heading up the stairs onto the roof when Dayne stopped.
Katy was behind him, and she pulled up short, her hand on his waist. “What is it?”
“There.” He pointed at the open window of a building adjacent to the hotel. The window was three floors higher than the hotel roof. “A camera.” He shaded his eyes. “See it?”
She was still in the stairwell, out of sight. But there was no doubt he was right. Positioned in the window and aimed straight at the garden area of the roof was what looked like a high-powered camera lens. A sick feeling tightened her stomach. “Paparazzi?”
“Definitely.” He gave her a gentle nudge, urging her down a few steps. As she moved, he followed her. “They rented a room with a view of the roof. I can’t believe it.”
Disappointment took the place of everything good she’d been feeling. “Now what?”
“I have another plan.” He took her hand as they turned and moved quickly down the stairs. “The idea Joe was talking about earlier.” A smile played on his lips. “It was going to be a surprise.”
Her heart raced. Every minute with Dayne was a surprise, and at times like this the unexpected was almost wearying. “Okay. So what do we do?”
“Go to your room and change into something more casual, and grab a sweatshirt if you brought one. Wear sunglasses and a hat.” He checked the time on his cell phone. “I’ll stay here in the stairwell. You can meet me back here in ten minutes.”
Katy’s head was spinning. Whatever he had planned, the idea made her nervous. There was nowhere they could go without the paparazzi following them. Especially now, when the press was bound to understand that Katy and Dayne had been given two days off to spend however they’d like.
Still, the certainty on his face gave her no choice. He knew her, knew her convictions. He wouldn’t lead her into a situation that would harm her; Katy was sure. She nodded and squeezed his hand. Then she left and did as he asked.
Ten minutes later, when she returned to the stairwell dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt, she could see on Dayne’s face that the details of the plan he’d been working on were set. “How do we get out of here?” Katy asked.
“The front door.” Dayne grinned. “You’ll go down the elevator to the main floor. Once you step off, you’ll walk quickly, eyes downcast, out the front door to a silver Acura just outside. You’ll take the wheel and drive around the block once. Five minutes later, you’ll drive through the covered front entrance, and I’ll walk out and slip into the passenger seat. Then we’ll be off.”
Katy doubted it could work. But what choice did they have? She gave him a last look and set off for the elevator. She had a big bag slung over her shoulder and her purse on her other arm. Her sunglasses and hat were in place, and as she stepped off the elevator and started moving through the busy lobby toward the front door, she must’ve looked like any other tourist. No one seemed to notice her.
The silver Acura was outside just as Dayne had promised. She walked quickly through the rotating front door, slipped the valet a five-dollar bill, and eased in behind the wheel. She tossed her things in the back and drove off before even a single cameraman could take note. They were probably still camping out at the rear entrance.
As she pulled onto the street, she reminded herself to exhale. It might work, this plan Dayne had made. Please, God . . . let it work. We need to talk. She kept her eye on the digital clock over the radio, and exactly five minutes later she zipped the car up to the front door of the hotel.
Dayne looked the way he always did in Bloomington, his face covered with a baseball cap and sunglasses. Things he always carried with him. He slipped out the front door and immediately into the passenger seat. “How does it look?”
“All clear.” She wanted to shout for joy, but she didn’t have time. She drove through the entrance and out onto the street. Again there wasn’t a car following them. She tapped the steering wheel, practically bursting with excitement. “We did it!”
“I knew it was possible. They were looking for a couple, not the two of us by ourselves.” He looked up. “Thank You, God!”
After a few miles, Dayne directed her to turn onto a side street and pull over. “I’ll drive.”
They both hopped out and switched places. The moment she sat in the passenger seat, she felt the tension of the day finally leave. They were back out on the road before she looked at Dayne and smiled. “Do I get to know where we’re going?”
“Not yet.” An easy grin lifted his mouth. “Soon, though.”
Katy’s heart soared. Without the paparazzi following them, she almost felt as if they were a normal couple back in Indiana, heading off for one of the surreal afternoons he had given her a handful of other times.
Within minutes they reached Pacific Coast Highway, and Dayne turned north.
She angled herself against the car door. “The beach?” She felt a ripple of doubt. “They’ll find us out here, won’t they?”
“Not where we’re going.” He kept his eyes straight ahead, but his smile was brighter than the fading sun. He turned on the radio and relaxed against the headrest. “Have I apologized yet for this week?” There was guilt in his tone but not enough to dampen the mood.
“The trial?”
“No.” His eyes sparkled. “The fact that I haven’t taken you on a date. I mean, what sort of gentleman am I, anyway?”
“Dayne—” she giggled—“you can’t date.” She waved her thumb at the window. “The world out there won’t let you.”
“Okay, then let’s make a deal.”
She loved this, loved the teasing and smiling, the fact that they could think about more tha
n whether cameramen were following them and how quick they could get away. Without paparazzi behind them everything felt different. “What?”
He met her eyes briefly, and the feeling turned her heart upside down. “Tonight there is no world out there.”
She was breathless for the second time that hour. But this time her head wasn’t spinning because they were running or being chased, because the paparazzi had found them or because a dozen cameras were being fired in her direction. It was because for the first time in a very long time she was about to do something that could be more dangerous than all those other things combined.
Spend an evening alone with Dayne Matthews.
John had the letters written. A single page each with the basic facts. They all said the same thing, but the openings were different. John looked at them, lying in a row on his kitchen table. Elizabeth would’ve wanted him to gather the kids, tell them in person. The way he should’ve done during the reunion in April.
But now—based on his conversations with Dayne—he didn’t have time to waste. Dayne was coming undone around the edges, his resolve lessening a little more each day. He wanted to know his siblings, wanted to share a life with them—to whatever extent they were comfortable.
Last time they’d talked—late at night after the first day of the trial—Dayne had come out and asked the question John had been dreading. “So—” his tone fell a little—“do they know about me, the others?”
John’s hesitation had said more than his words. “I . . . I wanted to tell them when we were all together. But Ashley’s baby . . . and the tornadoes . . .”
“So, they don’t know.” Dayne tried to hide his disappointment, but it was there.
The sound of it cut John’s heart swift and sure. How could he have let it go this far, knowing about Dayne, aware that Ashley knew the truth, and still keeping the entire situation a secret from his other kids? It was wrong, and now the only way he could right the problem was by coming clean.