Indiscretions (29 page)

“Have there been any recent deductions and receipts that you know of over the past few months?”

Ellen gingerly walked over to a small desk and opened the drawer, then released a catch that opened a second drawer underneath. She searched through several bundles of paper and pulled out the bank statements and a sheaf of receipts. Turning, she handed them to Khendra.

Khendra still couldn't quite believe the almost benign attitude of this woman as she rapidly glanced through the papers. It was almost as if she had totally given up. And Khendra felt a pang of guilt at having to ask her these questions.

She carefully flipped through the papers. Then she saw it. For a three-month period there was the same deduction of nine hundred and fifty dollars—the exact amount of Carol's rent. She sifted through some more papers and the receipt from Mirage. The scarf was the only purchase on the receipt.

Her pulse raced. She looked up at Ellen, who was looking blankly out the window.

“Mrs. Counts,” she said gently, “I believe your husband was having an affair with Carol Michaels, and that he murdered her.” She saw Ellen stiffen but she continued. “Where was he that night?”

“We went to a charity event,” she stated simply.

“Do you remember what time?

Ellen hesitated. “I know we were the last to arrive.”

“Why was that, Mrs. Counts?”

“Alex…got home…late that night.” She tossed the rest of her drink down her throat and turned to Khendra, the first flash of emotion registering on her face.

“Let me tell you something, Ms. Phillips. My husband has provided me with all this.”

She swept her hands expansively around the room and beyond. “He lives his life, and I live mine. We like it that way. And if you think for a moment I'd risk losing it, then you're mad. As far as I'm concerned, this conversation never occurred. And I would appreciate it very much if you left now.” She turned her back in dismissal.

“I may not need your help, Mrs. Counts, but I hope you sleep well at night knowing what your husband did to Carol and to an innocent man.” Khendra snatched up her belongings and walked out of the house, somewhat relieved to be free of the oppressive atmosphere.

Hurrying to her car, she drove out of the driveway unaware she had been seen.

Alex marched into the house, slamming the door solidly behind him. “Ellen!” he roared, storming through the house, flinging open doors until he found her in the study.

She was sitting on the sofa, a ghostly pallor masking her face. She turned red-rimmed eyes upon him, her third drink shaking in her hand.

He crossed the room in two strides and knocked the glass from her hand, fury and a dark fear heightening his features.

“What was that woman doing here?” he demanded. “What did you tell her?”

“I didn't tell her anything,” she answered weakly.

“You're a liar!” His large, open hand connected solidly with her face, knocking her to the floor. She tearfully told him what he wanted to know.

Enraged, he saw all of his life crumbling around him, just the way his father's had when he was betrayed by Alex's mother. He raised his hand again, and Ellen cowered. As he administered blow after blow, he avenged his father and the infidelities he had been subjected to by his mother. “
All women are alike. They needed, wanted someone to control them or else they would destroy you.”
He heard the words of his father ring in his ears. And he wouldn't let a woman destroy his success.

The following morning, Khendra sat alone in her rented office space, meticulously detailing and analyzing all the information she had gathered. Hovered over her desk, she didn't realize anyone had come in until a shadow loomed across her desk.

Startled, she looked up, only to find Ellen Counts standing in front of her. She wore all black, which made her small frame seem even smaller. Her look was almost ominous. A sheer black scarf covered her chestnut-brown curls, and her eyes were hidden behind dark glasses. She looked as though she were on her way to a funeral.

“Ms. Phillips,” she began weakly before Khendra could speak, “I'm willing to testify against my husband.” She slipped the glasses off her nose to reveal large purple and black bruises around her eyes and a jaw that seemed grotesquely swollen.

Khendra sprang from her seat and rounded the desk, sure that if she didn't catch Ellen she would collapse. She gently lowered her into a nearby chair.

“Mrs. Counts, what happened?” Khendra reached out and instinctively touched Ellen's cheek.

“He beat me,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “And it's not the first time.” She lowered her head. “It's been going on for years.” She took a deep breath. “I can't live like this anymore. I'll do whatever you want.”

Hours later, Khendra packed up her notes and placed a call to the D.A.'s office, advising him she had all the evidence she'd need to have the case reopened. She would be at his office within the hour.

Her spirit was lifted, her heart light with hope as she drove down the winding highway. After she saw the D.A., she would go see Sean and tell him the good news.

Sean. It seemed an eternity since she'd seen him. And she didn't realize how badly she missed him until now. Where had things gone wrong? Where had they gone wrong? So many things had gotten in the way of their love. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

She picked up speed, casting aside the disturbing thoughts, only wanting to see the look on Ed's face when she showed him what she had. She turned the car around the biting turn and the car seemed to accelerate. She stepped on the brake. Nothing happened.

Sheer, dark fear assaulted her as she fought with the wheel, slamming down on the brake to no avail. The car seemed to have a will of its own as the speedometer rose.

She screamed as the car veered around a curve, and the next thing she remembered before the car careened into the ravine was…Sean.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

She floated upward through the heavy clouds that surrounded her, a deep pain that she couldn't understand seeming to hold her down.

A low groan filtered through the air, and she couldn't tell where it came from. Slowly, painfully, her eyes fluttered open, only to shut again against the glaring fluorescent lights. She tried to move, but every bone in her body felt as though it were on fire, and she panicked as darkness threatened to engulf her once again.

A low voice drifted to her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. “Ms. Phillips, can you hear me?”

She struggled to open her eyes and force her lips to form words, but she couldn't.

“Ms. Phillips.” The voice pounded against the ache in her head. “I'm Doctor Roberts. You're going to be fine,” he assured in a soothing bedside tone. “You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident.”

Flashes of the car hurdling over the divide rushed to the surface. A strangled cry bubbled up from her throat.

“Don't try to talk,” the doctor urged, placing a calming hand on her bandaged shoulder. “You sustained a concussion and some cracked ribs. And your shoulder was also dislocated.”

“Water,” she whispered in a cracked voice.

Dr. Roberts reached over to the bedside stand and poured a small cup of water. He gently raised her head, allowing her to drink.

Resting back on the pillows, she slowly absorbed the doctor's words, the reality that she had survived finally sinking in. Then through the fog of awakening, her reasons for being on that road came surging back. How long had she been here? What about Sean?

“Doctor,” she rasped, “how…long…” Her voice trailed off.

“You've been here three days. You're going to have a whopper of a headache for a while. We're giving you something for pain intravenously.”

“I've…got…to get…out…my case…Sean.” Her eyes briefly drifted closed.

Dr. Roberts frowned. “Sean? I don't understand. Was there someone else with you?”

She barely shook her head as a blinding pain roared through her skull. “Please.” She stretched a weak hand and grabbed the cuff of his white coat. “Call District Attorney…Damato. Tell him to come.”

“I'll do that first thing in the morning, Ms. Phillips.”

“No. Now.” Her voice was a ragged plea. “Please…it's urgent.”

He was instantly alarmed by her growing agitation. “All right, all right. Just calm down. Nurse! Bring me five cc's of Demerol.”

Within moments the sedative had dripped through the I.V., lulling Khendra into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning her thoughts were more coherent and the pain in her head had lessened to a dull throb. She tried to sit up, but the effort was too much, and she collapsed back against her pillow.

She blinked and slowly looked around the room to see Ed Damato dozing in a chair by the window. She called out to him, relieved that her voice sounded almost normal.

He briefly shook his head at the sound of his name and slowly rose from his perch. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently, approaching her bed.

“Like I've been run over by a truck.” She tried to laugh, but it stuck in her throat.

“You're a very lucky young lady. Some tourists saw your car go over the divide and into the ravine. They flagged down the highway patrol.”

“My notes…on the case…where are they?”

“Safely tucked away in my office. You have a helluva case against Counts. But I have some bad news.”

She braced herself.

“Your witness, Mrs. Finch, she's disappeared. And the sentencing is in six days.”

Khendra closed her eyes as her head began to pound. Without Mrs. Finch, the entire case would fall apart.

“We have to find her,” she croaked.

“Well, until we do, this whole thing is at a standstill, even with the wife's testimony, which she could back out of at any minute.”

She tried to think. There had to be something she could do. Then she remembered Phil, Sean's friend.

“I need you to call someone in New York. His name is Phil Banks. Tell him I need him. His number is in my book at the office.” She leaned back, breathless.

“I'll have someone get right on it.” He moved from her bed, then turned back. “I've requested a police guard be posted outside your door.”

Her brow creased. “Why?”

“Your car was tampered with, and we don't want anything else to happen to you.”

She shut her eyes against the quiet terror that crept through her bones. When she next awakened, a new day's sun had spread through the window and reality resurfaced.

I have to contact Sean.
She reached for the bedside phone.