Ian looked at her the way a teacher might look at a baffling, recalcitrant child. “Look, sis, half the cops down at the precinct stood by LaCroix when he went to trial. They stood by him because they liked and respected him as a cop. But after all that evidence… You know how cops feel about cop killers.”
From a family steeped in law enforcement, Landis knew firsthand. She was also aware of how cops reacted when one of their own was taken out by a traitor. The thought sent a wave of fear vibrating down her spine. Jack may as well have a price on his head.
She turned to her brother, searched his features. “Ian, what if he was somehow framed? What if there’s information out there that never came to light during the trial?”
“Oh, Landy, for God’s sake…”
“I mean it. What if someone in a position of power wanted him to take a fall? What if…what if there were cops involved?”
Anger darkened his young features. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Oh, God, how could she tell him what she suspected without incriminating herself? Ian was a straight arrow. As much as he hated Jack, he would probably take whatever she told him directly to his superiors.
“I don’t want things to get ugly, Ian.”
“Things got ugly the day he put a bullet in my brother.”
“The last thing anyone needs right now is for the police to get caught up in revenge,” she said. “You know how I feel about due process.”
He made a sound of disgust, then bent his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Holy smoke, Landy. You’re still hung up on him.”
“No, I’m not.”
He gave her a hard, incredulous look. “I wanted you to know LaCroix might be in the area. He’s armed and extremely dangerous. If you see him, call the police. Call me. I don’t have to tell you what he’s capable of.” He set his coffee cup on the table. “I’ve got to get to the precinct.”
Landis stared at him. More than anything she wanted to tell her brother that Jack wasn’t responsible for Chandler’s death, but logic stopped her. It would only make things worse if she rushed in before thinking the situation through fully. As an attorney, she knew the value of silence.
“I’ll call you later,” she said.
After casting her a long, lingering look, Ian started for the door. Halfway there, he stopped and turned to face her. “You’d tell me if he came around, wouldn’t you, Landy?”
She stared at him, trying desperately to keep her voice even. “Of course I would.”
At the door, Ian paused and glanced out across the snow-covered landscape. “Without help, he won’t make it far. I’m surprised he’s been able to elude law enforcement this long. The feds will be getting involved pretty soon. One way or another, I guarantee they’ll have him in custody within twenty-four hours. Not even an animal like LaCroix can disappear without a trace.”
He sprinted through the darkness, branches tearing at him like claws. Cold rain soaked his clothes and chilled him to the bone. Behind him, he could hear the relentless baying of the hounds.
He had to reach her before it was too late. He knew she was just ahead. If only he could find her. If only he could see her face. Touch her flesh just one more time. He was so close he could smell her. He could see her silhouette through the trees and fog. Landis…
The crack of a rifle splintered the air. He braced for the impact of the bullet, the hot streak of pain. But neither came. Then he saw her. Running. Reaching out to him. Falling… Bleeding… Oh, dear God. Landis…
Jack bolted upright, the sudden movement wrenching a sound from him when his shoulder objected. Trembling and disoriented he looked quickly around to get his bearings, saw the sparsely furnished bedroom, realized he was in Aaron Chandler’s cabin. Safe, he thought. At least for now.
Cursing the bastard who’d shot him, he lay back against the pillows and let out a long, shaky breath. He listened as the frantic beating of his heart returned to normal, felt the nightmare recede back into the darkness.
“Jesus.” He sat up and eased his legs over the side of the bed. Dizziness swirled in his head, but quickly leveled off. He needed more sleep, but knew there wasn’t time. Judging by the light coming in through the window, it was probably midmorning already. He would have to make do with his physical condition as it was. A shower, some coffee, a handful of aspirin, and he would be on his way.
He was in the process of stepping into the jeans Aaron had brought him when a knock at the front door sent a rush of adrenaline through him. There were only two people in the world who knew where he was, and he wasn’t expecting either of them. Unless maybe one of them had called the cops…
Wishing he had a gun on the outside chance Cyrus Duke had somehow located him, Jack crept silently down the hall, then peered into the living room. Heavy drapes covered the front window. Stealthily, he moved through the room to the door and peered through the peephole.
Surprise rippled through him when he saw Landis standing on the front porch ankle deep in snow and looking breathtaking in the thin morning light. Her flame-colored hair was pulled into an unruly ponytail. Silky tendrils framed cheeks that were blushed with cold. Her eyes were wary and alert and very troubled.
Jack opened the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Using a real lack of judgment.” Looking once over her shoulder, she sighed. “This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Well, hell. Maybe we could start a club.” His eyes traveled to the gravel drive where her Jeep was parked in six inches of new snow. “Are you alone?”
“Of course I’m alone.”
“Were you followed?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Look, I didn’t see anyone, but I’m not used to this cloak-and-dagger routine, so could you cut me some slack?” Looking flustered and annoyed, she put her hands on her hips, inadvertently opening her coat.
Jack knew better than to look, but his eyes took on a life of their own and skimmed down the front of her. He saw a soft sweater draped over curves he had no right to be noticing at a time like this. Snug jeans hugged nicely rounded hips and slender thighs. For a redhead, she looked damn good in hot pink and fuchsia.
“Can I come in?”
He dragged his gaze to hers, forcing himself to forget about the hidden riches that lay beneath those layers of wool and silk. Opening the door, he stepped aside. “How did you find me?”
Barely sparing him a glance, she brushed past him and entered the cabin. Jack tried to ignore the thread of pleasure that sifted through him when he caught a whiff of her scent. The sweet familiarity of it made him remember the kiss, the way she’d felt in his arms the night before….
“Chandler’s name was on the mailbox,” she said.
“Was?”
She reached into her bag and handed him a rustic piece of wood with Chandler’s name etched on to it. Jack looked at it, realized it was the decorative panel from the mailbox.
“I had to break it,” she said. “You probably shouldn’t stay here long.”
Baffled, he took the piece of wood from her and set it against the wall, suddenly very curious as to why she had come. “You want to clue me in to what the hell’s going on?” Checking the driveway one more time to make sure she hadn’t been followed, Jack closed the door.
Landis walked to the dining room table, then turned to face him. “I need to know what time Aaron dropped you off here last night.”
An alarm went off in his head. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why she would show up now after practically throwing him out of her place the night before. “He brought me here directly from your cabin.” He shrugged. “Maybe around midnight or so. Why?”
“What did you do after he left?”
“Did you have a brainstorm during the night or did you come here simply because you enjoy giving me the third degree?”
“Believe me, enjoyment doesn’t enter into t
he picture.” She sighed. “Answer the question, Jack. It’s important.”
“I crashed. You know the condition I was in when Aaron and I left your place. I didn’t wake up until about five minutes ago.”
“You’re sure?”
He laughed, but heard the tension in his voice. “How could I not be sure?”
She stared hard at him, her emerald eyes large and turbulent. “How long did Aaron stay?”
“Long enough to show me the woodpile and where the keys to the truck are kept.” Growing uncomfortably chilly without his shirt, Jack started toward the bedroom.
“Did you go anywhere after he left?” Her boots clicked smartly against the floor as she trailed him. “Where are you going?”
“I hate to put a damper on your fun, Counselor, but my patience is a little too thin this morning for a game of Twenty Questions.” Jerking his flannel shirt off the bed, he turned, barely avoiding a collision with her. Not sure if he was relieved or disappointed, he moved past her, praying Aaron had coffee in the kitchen. He was desperate for something hot and black and chock-full of caffeine. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, her questions were beginning to make him nervous.
“While we’re playing Twenty Questions, you want to tell me why you’re here?” He swung open a cabinet door and began to rummage. “The last time we talked, I believe you were under the impression that I was a murderer and belonged in prison with the rest of the scoundrels you spend your days putting away.” Spotting a jar of instant coffee, he breathed out a sigh of relief and reached for it. “Or did you come to your senses and realize I’m an innocent man after all?”
“Jack…”
“Or maybe it was that kiss that brought you back for more.”
“Stop it.”
He turned to her and for the first time since she’d breezed into the cabin and started barking out questions, he noticed the anxiety etched into her features. “What’s going on, Landis?”
Visibly shaken, she walked to the small table and lowered herself into a chair. Her eyes were large and dark when they met his. “Aaron Chandler was murdered last night.”
The words registered like a slap. He recoiled as the repercussions penetrated a brain that didn’t want to believe. In the months Chandler had been his lawyer, they’d spent quite a bit of time together. Jack had come to respect him. He’d come to like him. Had the circumstances been different, he might even have called him a friend. He couldn’t believe he was gone. For several long seconds he could only stare at her, speechless. Aaron Chandler had been his last chance. The appeal had been filed. The framework for his defense had been laid. With Aaron’s murder, all of it had gone up in smoke….
“Are you sure?” he heard himself ask.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Jack couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe fate would snatch away the last remnants of hope. His last chance for a future.
On an oath, he turned away and strode to the window, stared through the dirty glass at the frozen landscape beyond. All the while desperation clawed at his throat like a bloodthirsty animal. He felt sucker-punched and sick to his soul. He couldn’t believe Chandler was dead, couldn’t believe the timing of it.
“That brings my defense to a grinding halt,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Jack, but…it gets worse.”
He turned from the window and looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“The police found your prison clothes in Chandler’s office.”
He felt a jolt, didn’t know if it was physical or emotional, but it was powerful enough to immobilize him. “Chandler was supposed to get rid of the clothes.”
“Evidently, he hadn’t done that yet.”
A terrible new realization dawned. “I’m a suspect.” He laughed, but it was a hoarse, humorless sound. “Jesus.”
“I thought you should know.”
Outrage and a damnable sense of helplessness surged inside him. He tasted bitterness at the back of his throat and felt the dark pull of a new and frightening suspicion burgeon. Raising his fist, he brought it down on the counter hard enough to send the jar of coffee crashing to the floor.
“Jack, please…calm down.”
Her words barely registered. He couldn’t believe Chandler was dead. A year ago, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Today, he knew firsthand how cruel fate could be.
He wanted to lash out. At the system. At whomever had engineered this latest frame-up. He knew better than to take his fear and anger and frustration out on Landis. But she was the only person within reach.
“Are you going to jump on the bandwagon the way you did the last time?” he snarled. “Or maybe you’ve already called the Salt Lake County sheriff’s office. Hell, Landis, if you really want to put a feather in your cap, maybe you should have called the media. I can see the headlines now. ‘Lady Justice Single-handedly Nabs Cold-blooded Cop Killer.’”
She came out of the chair. “It was against my better judgment, but I came here to help you.”
The words hung between them like a rain-laden storm cloud waiting to burst. Willing his temper to cool, Jack turned away from her, strode to the counter and leaned. “How was he murdered? When did it happen?”
“He was shot and killed in his office last night.”
“You said they found my clothes at the scene?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out about it?”
“Ian came to the cabin this morning to tell me.”
A bitter laugh escaped him when he thought of Evan’s younger brother. “I’ll bet he was frothing at the mouth to get at me.”
“Don’t take this out on Ian,” she snapped. “None of this is his fault.”
“He thinks I’m low enough to murder my own partner,” he said with disgust. “He won’t have a problem believing I killed Chandler.” Struggling to regain control of the emotions banging around inside him, Jack turned from the window and gave her a hard look. “Was he able to convince you? Do you think I killed my own lawyer in cold blood?”
“Chandler called me last night,” she said. “After he dropped you here.”
Jack wasn’t an emotional man, but the words shook him hard. The surge of relief that followed was so powerful he had to look away, uneasy with the notion of her seeing just how desperately he needed her to believe him. “That puts you in a rather precarious position, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.” Her hands shook as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure how I want to handle this yet.”
“You’re the only person—aside from the murderer—who knows I didn’t kill Chandler.”
“Probably.”
“In order for you to exonerate me, you would have to incriminate yourself. I guess the question is how far are you willing to go to vindicate the man accused of murdering your brother?”
Her gaze met his. “I think we both know the only sane thing for you to do is turn yourself in.”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Turning myself in is not an option,” he snapped.
“How can you possibly hope to clear your name when every cop from here to the Canadian border is looking for you?”
“If I turn myself in, it’s over, Landis. I’m a dead man. I don’t have a choice but to do this.”
“I can help you. I mean, legally. Jack, damn it, I’m a lawyer.”
Hope jumped through him that she would offer to help him, but he quickly shoved it back. He was tired of hoping and then having that hope wrenched away. “Look, clearing my name will be more difficult without Chandler, but I can do it. If I go back to prison, it won’t happen.”
“You can be protected in prison.”
“That’s crap and you know it.”
“I can prove you didn’t murder Chandler.”
Jack met her gaze steadily. “A good prosecutor will point out that I could have taken Chandler’s truck, driven to his office after he talked to you, murdered him, then drove back here.
”
“That’s barely plausible.”
“So is my murdering Evan, but look what happened.”
“Jack, the evidence was compelling….”
“Screw the evidence! You know I didn’t murder Chandler,” he growled. “If there was any doubt in your mind, you wouldn’t be here. You’re just covering your bases because you’re afraid of what might happen between us if you let yourself believe me.”
He didn’t miss the quiver that ran the length of her before she turned away. He stared at her arrow-straight back, the rigid set of her shoulders and wondered what it would take to bow that steadfast resolve—and make her believe him.
“This isn’t about us,” she said. “It can’t be. Damn it, I don’t want it to be.”
Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “You know I didn’t murder Chandler, Landis. And you know I didn’t murder Evan. Ancient history aside, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
The scent of her hair drifted lazily through his brain, teasing him with memories he was insane to think of now. Memories that would do nothing but hurt him. Her shoulders felt small and delicate beneath his hands. But he knew there was nothing fragile about Landis McAllister. She bore the weight of the world on those shoulders with a tenacity that spoke volumes about the force of her personality and her competence as a lawyer.
“I’m here because you involved me. Because I’m trying to do the right thing. Because I need to know the truth.”
He desperately wanted to believe she’d come to him for other reasons, too. Reasons that had nothing to do with Evan or Chandler or the fact that he’d spent the last year in prison. But Jack knew wishing for impossibilities would only make an already difficult situation infinitely more difficult.
He’d spent too many hellish years in foster homes, living with families that hadn’t really wanted him, to believe wishes could make a difference. He’d spent the better part of his childhood yearning for what could never be, and all that wanting hadn’t done a damn thing except make him hurt.
He was through with hurting.
“If the circumstances were different, I would agree with you about turning myself in, Red. But there’s someone pulling strings from the inside. Maybe from the top. I can’t fight that. I can’t survive it.” With his life on the line and desperation knocking at his door, Jack knew he’d had no choice but to take the situation into his own hands.