“Sure,” she replied. “We’ve got a lot of report writing to do. Debriefing. Official explaining to construct.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m too tuckered to talk.”
Winter looked at his wife, who was now leaning against the cruiser with her coffee cup back in her hand.
“You going to be all right?” Winter asked Alexa. He was referring to the fact that Alexa had arrested her own sister.
She knew what he was talking about. “My heart’s been broken before.”
He smiled at her, put his hand under her chin, and kissed her forehead.
“Massey, I put you in harm’s way without telling you the truth. I had to do it the way I did it, to save the Dockerys. You were the only person who could do it. Antonia and the others had to believe I was on their side.”
“I forgive you.”
“I don’t,” Sean said, still fuming. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get him killed. I thought you cared about him.”
“Sean, I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
“Why was everybody working so hard to put my husband in front of a bullet?”
“Sean,” Winter said. “It worked out.” He turned back to Alexa. “But you could have trusted me with the truth, Lex.”
“I knew the more the odds were against you, the more likely you were to succeed.”
Sean didn’t smile.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Winter said, yawning.
He embraced Alexa. When he turned back to Sean, he noticed that she responded to Alexa’s good-bye with an almost imperceptible nod.
“You ready to go home?” he asked his wife.
Sean nodded.
“You shouldn’t be mad at Alexa,” Winter told her, smiling.
“What makes you think I’m mad?”
82
On Monday morning at eight A.M. sharp, Ross Laughlin, who had arrived an hour earlier on his law firm’s jet after spending two days in Miami with a senator to build an alibi, took a seat at the defense table in a federal courtroom. He opened his briefcase to retrieve his crocodile notebook and his shiny amber pen, and pulled the shirt cuffs out so his cuff links were visible. He was going to look his best when he appeared before the mob of press gathered on the courthouse steps expecting to announce Colonel Hunter Bryce’s conviction.
The U.S. marshals escorted a stern-faced Colonel Hunter Bryce to the table and removed his handcuffs. Before he sat down, the colonel straightened his tie and tugged at the hem of his blazer. Laughlin had to admit that he wished his own suits fit him like Bryce’s fit their owner, but you can’t buy a body like that.
In a low voice Bryce asked, “How does everything look?”
Ross opened his notebook, and on the first sheet he had printed, Free at last, free at last.
“How long will it take to do the paperwork?” Bryce asked.
“An hour, if you get someone from the clerk’s office who’s literate. The press will be going apeshit. You’ll have to avoid making any statements.”
“I’m great on TV.”
“Gloating would be ill advised, Colonel. There’ll be a shit storm when Fondren turns you loose. The media is discussing whether you’ll get life or the needle.”
“I was messing with you, Ross. Loosen up. Where’s Randall going to be?”
“I haven’t spoken to him. I assume he’s been busy cleaning things up.”
Colonel Bryce turned to look at the faces in the seats behind the defense table. Aside from the journalists who had been covering the trial, he didn’t see anyone he recognized.
Just as he was about to turn back, two women entered the courtroom. “Oh, man,” Bryce said to Laughlin. “Looks like somebody’s babe’s been in a car wreck.”
Ross Laughlin snapped the cap off of his pen, then turned to look at the woman Bryce was referring to. She was pretty despite the bruises and lacerations. Something about her seemed familiar, but Ross couldn’t quite place her. The attractive woman with her was dressed in a gray suit and carried a leather handbag.
He assumed the second woman was an attorney who had come to see him lose one. Like a lot of people, she was in for a surprise. He glanced at the prosecutor, a self-assured ass.
“Mr. Laughlin?” the woman in the suit said.
“Yes?” he said, putting on his dignified political smile.
“I don’t believe you’ve met Lucy Dockery. Lucy, this is Ross Laughlin, Mr. Smoot’s business partner.”
The pretty woman with the bruised and scratched-up face studied Ross with an expression that could have driven dull nails into solid oak. “My pleasure,” she said through tight lips.
Laughlin was aware that Hunter Bryce was squeezing his arm, and that the bailiff was calling the court to order. Stunned, Ross sat through a very long pronouncement of guilt delivered by Judge Fondren, who never once took his cold blue eyes off Hunter Bryce. The judge set a date for sentencing, then vacated the bench.
As Hunter Bryce was being led from the room in handcuffs by U.S. marshals, Special FBI Agent Alexa Keen introduced herself to Ross Laughlin, read him his rights, and handcuffed him.
Lucy Dockery made her way to the door leading to the judge’s chambers, where her son was waiting with his favorite sitter.
Alexa Keen and Special FBI Agent Crisp escorted the stunned attorney from the courtroom past a phalanx of reporters, photographers, and camera crews.
83
All day Sunday Winter had been at FBI HQ being debriefed. It had rained off and on all that day, which had suited Sean’s dark mood. Monday turned out to be warm and the sun worked hard to dry up the ground left spongy by the rain. Winter told Sean that morning that he had invited Alexa for lunch, which meant Sean was scrambling to get it prepared. Winter and Hank had taken Rush, Faith Ann, and Olivia to the grocery store in Concord for some things Sean needed to finish the meal. She was busy in the kitchen when she heard a vehicle pulling up out front.
Sean went to the door and saw Alexa approaching the porch. “You’re early. Winter isn’t back yet,” she said, trying not to sound curt. She seriously doubted that Alexa’s appearance while she was alone was accidental. “I’ve got some wine in the fridge.”
“I wanted to talk to you alone,” Alexa said.
Sean led Alexa to the kitchen and stood until Alexa sat at the table.
“I wanted you to know that I am truly sorry I put Winter in harm’s way.”
“He’s forgiven you, I guess I can, too,” Sean told her as she sat across from Alexa. “It turned out all right. The Dockerys are safe. Bryce is where he belongs for the time being.”
“He is.”
“But Winter is sure he won’t be for long. I mean, we all know how the weasels deal.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Alexa said softly.
Sean got up, went to the refrigerator, took out a bottle of wine, and removed the cork. She took a pair of wineglasses from the counter and poured them full of white wine. She handed Alexa one and, taking hers, sat.
“I guess your sister is up a creek.”
“That’s her own doing. She approached me a while back assuming I was like she is. They needed me to get to Judge Fondren in order to keep the FBI from getting involved. I thought it was going to be an extortion of some sort until the kidnapping. I never would have let that happen. Then I had to figure out a way to get the Dockerys free, but I knew my sister’s men were going to be watching me every minute. They have miniature cameras, all sorts of devices. I knew Winter was my only hope. I insisted on bringing him in because I told Antonia I couldn’t do it alone since not having a capable partner would invite too much official skepticism. My people thought it was a good idea and I convinced Antonia that Winter wasn’t the man whose reputation he carried. I told her he was burned out, fat and happy, suffering from an old wound, and gun-shy. I said he would back up my story to enhance his own reputation. Precio-my sister agreed and convinced the others. Only I knew it was a lie.”
“Why did your sister think you’d go along?” Sean said.