Ties That Bind (21 page)

“Sure.

“Tired?”

“Some.” She patted her face. “I hope I look okay.”

“You look beautiful. I particularly like that dress. Is it new?”

Kate glanced down at the little black sheath she’d bought for tonight. It did look good on her. She liked the way it clung in all the right places. Reese had always been partial to black dresses and used to whisper naughty things in her ear when she wore them out to an event.

Damn it, she was thinking about him again.

“Kaitlyn? I asked you a question.”

“Oh, sorry.” She touched his hand. “Yes, it’s new.”

“Did you buy it for me?” His voice was pitched low, and sexy.

Had she? “Of course.”

“Mmm. I can’t wait—”

The microphone screeched and drew everyone’s attention to the podium, where the mayor of Westwood addressed the patrons. “Good evening, everyone. Thanks for coming here tonight. Over dessert, we’re going to have this month’s speaker. Dr. Tyler Sloan, one of Westwood’s innovative pediatricians, is going to tell us about a unique program for children that he’s been working on for a couple of years now.” He went on to give Tyler’s impressive credentials.

Enthusiastic applause followed. Smiling, Tyler squeezed her shoulder as he stood, then made his way to the front of the room. He took the podium with ease, with grace and definitely with charm. “Hello. Thanks for having me here.” He pointed to a projector. “I’ve brought some pictures to go along with my talk so the scenery might keep you awake.”

Behind her, Kate heard, “The scenery’s just fine as it is.”

Another woman chuckled. “God, is he yummy.”

He was, of course. Tall, broad shouldered. His wheat-colored hair looked more gold in the lights overhead, just before they dimmed. His runner’s body moved assuredly as he turned toward the screen and the PowerPoint presentation came up. His voice seemed huskier, sexier in the dim light.

“We began what became the Well Child Project a few years ago when Westside Medical Associates wanted to renovate their waiting room. I’d done some office-environment study in med school, and, of course, since I was the new kid on the block, I was put in charge of designing the space. We started by sectioning off the existing, traditional Well Child side and provided various activities. We thought if we could keep the kids busy while our always-behind appointments ran into one another, they would have something to do and the parents would be calmer while they waited to see their doctors.”

He called up slides of the waiting room, which had partitioned areas for artistic endeavors, music endeavors and movement. “These three areas were roughed out first, but eventually we closed them off as individual rooms—now called the Well Child Zone—because they became so popular and added so much to our practice of medicine.”

He went on to show the progress of the rooms—how they expanded, filled with different equipment. “Here’s the drawing, painting, clay, etc., room as it looks now.”

Everyone laughed at the picture of Tyler with an adorable little girl slathering green paint on his nose. “Sally was terrified of doctors’ offices. She particularly hated throat cultures. I noticed that the kids liked the waiting room a lot, so I decided to come out and get the reluctant ones myself and spend a few minutes there with them before their visits. Sally and I drew pictures and talked about her appointment. Then, we took this puppet”—here Tyler showed a new slide, of a puppet and himself doing a throat culture on it. “Treating the doll first made her feel better about the procedure being done to her.”

He faced the audience. “Yes, it takes more time and puts us even more behind schedule. But we don’t do it with all children; and where this led us is the best part.” He called up another slide. “This movement room is great because it allows the kids to let off steam. But it also serves psychological purposes. We find out a lot about a depressed or angry child’s state of mind when he’s let loose in here. Anxiety in young kids is staggering, and before we prescribe medication, activities of this kind help us to sort out the issues. We now have on staff a part-time art therapist to work in one room, and we have a music person in the other room. We’re looking for a movement therapist now.”

He showed more slides, then called for the lights. His color was high with excitement and his smile broad. “The upshot of all of it is that we’ve managed to keep our young patients occupied with these areas before their visits, calm their fears about doctors, and best of all diagnose physical and psychological illnesses, so we can treat them better.”

Kate sat back and sighed while he answered questions about his program. He was modest, giving credit to his research and his assistants. He was funny and self-effacing. He was forceful when he asked for volunteers. He was, truly, an ideal man.

Like the women behind her, any female in her right mind would jump at the chance to be his lover, his significant other, his wife. Kate admired him, and cared a great deal for him. Certainly she liked being with him.

She wasn’t about to give him up because her ex-husband was feeling things for her. She wasn’t! She was going to try harder. So she hugged Tyler hard when he came back to the table, and held his hand as he led her out of the room after the evening was over, letting warm feelings for him fill her.

He was slipping her light wrap around her shoulders, and was about to say something, when a man came up to them. “Judge Renado.”

It took Kate a second to realize who spoke to her. “Mr. Wick. Nice to see you.”

Eddie Wick, Westwood’s Clark Kent, nodded to her. He took a bead on Tyler. “Dr. Sloan. Nice speech.”

“I hope we’ll get a good write up in the Herald,” Tyler responded easily.

“Oh, you will.” Wick studied Kate, as if piecing together something. Then he called over his shoulder, “Joel, come get a picture of the judge and her new prince.”

He was referring to the Cinderella Couple comment he’d made during the interview with her and Reese.

And as the camera flashed, just like that, despite her earlier vows, Reese Bishop was part of the picture again.

IN HIS OFFICE downtown, Chase Sanders was surrounded by file cabinets, a messy desk and piles of books—a fitting backdrop for the interesting private investigator. He addressed Kate and Reese with a neutral expression on his face. “Thanks for meeting me here. I’m sandwiched in-between appointments, but I wanted to talk to you two.”

“You said it was important.” From where he sat across the desk, Reese leaned forward and linked his hands between his knees. He was still on edge today. “We’re both on our lunch breaks.”

“Then let’s get to it.” Chase picked up a folder. “I got nowhere interviewing Anna Bingham’s friends. She didn’t have that many and nobody particularly cared what had happened to her. However, I did have a meeting with her sister. Nancy Bingham said Anna had been depressed the last several times she visited the prison.” He cocked his head and Reese recognized it as the pose of somebody about to deliver bad news. “She believes her sister committed suicide.”

Reese ground his hands together. “Fuck.”

Beside him, Kate blew out a heavy breath. “This is just great.” Her sarcasm lacked oomph. She was as drained as he was. It had been two weeks ago today that the case blew up in their faces.

“Were there any details that might help us?”

“A couple. She said Anna was getting a lot of visitors. Men who seemed to depress her.”

Kate shook her head. “It is so odd that she had more than one man on the string.”

Reese threw Kate a slicing look. She had a lot of nerve making that statement.

“I’ve gone over her visitation list and I’m going to contact the people on it.” Chase frowned. “I’d like to see the videotape of the visits.”

Kate said, “We put in a request at the prison but haven’t gotten the tape yet. It might take a while.”

“You said a couple of things about your meeting with Nancy Bingham were important,” Reese commented. “What else?”

Sanders expression was hopeful. “She said her sister mentioned some inmates by name—Lena Parks and an Anita Ruiz.”

Reese straightened. “What about them?”

“She said they were giving Anna trouble.”

“Well that’s a lead to go on.” And it made Reese feel better. Something had to go their way soon.

“I’ll check out both of them,” Sanders said.

Kate sat forward. “The Bennings gave us a book order from Barnes & Noble that Bingham received. There was a blank page journal on it. The Bennings say she got into writing in prison. Did her sister mention anything about that?”

“No. Her sister didn’t say anything about a journal being among her personal effects.”

“Nancy Bingham has her personal effects?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get a look at them?”

The private investigator shook his head. “No, she drew the line there.”

“Maybe if we ask her?” Kate suggested.

“Couldn’t hurt. “ He slid the folder over. “You can take the whole thing. It has her numbers in it.”

Both Reese and Kate reached for it, their hands making contact on the folder. They stilled. Then Kate snatched her hand back.

Chase Sanders caught the exchange. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Reese bit out the word.

Kate said, “We’re just strung out over all this.”

And other things, Reese thought.

“As you should be.” Sanders studied Kate’s face. “Your bruises look better today.” He grinned at her, making Reese’s teeth grind. “I saw your picture in this morning’s Herald.”

“A fund-raiser for my…” She hesitated. “The man I’m seeing.”

“Yeah, Tyler Sloan. Got a good write up.”

Reese had read every word. And had seen Kate in that little black dress. He wondered if Sloan had taken it off of her when they got home. “Can we get back to the case?”

Sanders’s gaze sharpened at Reese’s curt tone. “Sure nothing’s going on here I should know about?”

“Of course.” Unable to stay seated, Reese rose and crossed to the window. “I’m just wired,” he said from there.

“So where do we go now, Chase?” Kate asked.

“Look at the video when we get it. And I’ll be interviewing inmates tomorrow.”

“What should we do?”

“You can try to make some headway with Bingham’s sister. But I think we should implement the next phase, too.”

“Which is?” Reese asked.

“You guys take a look at your law cases. Start with the last ones you were on together and work backward. Meanwhile, Kate, you make a list of people from your court who might want to hurt you. Mostly those who could have a grudge against you about a decision you made on the bench.”

Kate sighed. “Actually, I’ve already done that. The police asked for names, so Tyler helped me brainstorm them. I’ll send you a copy if you want.”

“I do. ASAP.”

Reese checked his watch. “We have to go.” He crossed to Sanders and shook hands. “Thanks. We’ll be in touch.”

Once again, Sanders lingered over Kate. Reese walked out the door, and couldn’t hear what the man said to her.

Outside, they went to their respective cars. When they reached Kate’s Mitsubishi first, Reese stopped. “So how do we do this?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to take an incredible amount of time to go over our case files.” Left unsaid was, Time that we shouldn’t be spending together.

“I could have Yolanda pull the folders for that last year.”

Her expression was soft and vulnerable. “I don’t want to revisit that last year. It’s going to push all kinds of buttons for us personally. Remind us of everything that went wrong.”

He banged his hand on the roof of the car. “Fuck.”

She studied him. “I hate when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“So coiled up tight that you might blow any minute.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.”

“Then work it off. Play racquetball. Have incredible monkey sex.”

The midday air crackled. “You offering?” His tone was not nice.

“I don’t play racquetball anymore.”

“Good dodge, Kate.”

She turned to her car and clicked the lock. He grasped her arm, but she kept her back to him. Again, neither spoke. His hand gentled on her and he began rubbing the sleeve of her deep pink suit. “This is hard.”

“Don’t make it harder, Reese. Please.”

“I’m trying”

“Do better.”

“Son of a bitch. You don’t give an inch, do you?”

“I have to go. “

“Fine, I’ll call you when Yolanda gets the files ready.” Since she had the folder, she said, “I’ll phone Nancy Bingham and let you know what she says.”

Even more frustrated than before, Reese stepped back, watched her get into her little sports car and drive off. He shook his head as it disappeared around the corner. “I think we’re kidding ourselves, love. Big time.”

o0o

HE WAS ALL schmooze and charm. It practically oozed out of him as Kate watched him lay it on thicker than southern honey. Poor Nancy Bingham didn’t stand a chance.

“Thank you so much for seeing us, Ms. Bingham.” Reese held her hand a little too long.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Bishop.”

“Reese, please.”

The petite blonde—at least he was true to type—smiled at his sexy green gaze and the dimple that sometimes appeared when his face went all soft and tender. “Reese, then. Call me Nancy.”

“This is my ex-wife, Kate.”

The woman gave her a glance, dismissed her, and focused back on Reese. She sat in an expensive leather wing chair in a fussy room filled with antiques. Her taupe dress was conservative but attractive. “I’m not sure what I can do for you. I’ve already spoken with that private investigator.”

“Chase Sanders. Yes, he said you might let us look at your sister’s things.”

God, Reese lied so well.

The woman frowned. “No, I told him the opposite. I’d prefer no one go through them.”

Reese cocked his head like he did when he was trying a case and wanted the jury to think he was surprised. “Well, I don’t know what to say. We drove up here for that purpose.” Again the smile. “I’d never have imposed if…”

“Oh, you’re not imposing.”

Of course he wasn’t. She was eating Reese up with her eyes. He did look good today in a light gray windowpane suit that fit his shoulders perfectly. For a change, he was monochromatic, with a dark gray shirt and tie. It made him a bit sinister and a lot sexy.