A Conflict of Interest

“Griff Butler is in trouble because of you,” Collier said. “We’ve explained all the so-called evidence linking him to these crimes. They brought a grieving young man to trial on the strength of a lie told by a woman fifteen years his senior, who fought back after he ended their illicit affair.”

“Objection.” Gil’s voice cracked across the courtroom. “At the least, the defense assumes facts not in evidence. We have only Mr. Collier’s innuendo as proof that an affair occurred.”

“I’d like to enter my client’s journal into evidence, Your Honor.”

“My objection stands. Maybe the defendant wrote these stories, but their existence does not make them truth.”

“We disagree and we want the jury to have all the evidence.”

“The prosecution has never seen this notebook.”

Jake gestured for the defense attorney to pass it to the court clerk. “As you well know, Mr. Daley, the defense is not required to disclose. I’ll allow the journal with the stipulation the jury understands no claims in this document have been proven as fact. The entries go to state of mind.”

Maria watched it move across the room as if no actual hands were holding it.

“Your Honor, I’ve marked the passages where Griff talks about how reluctant he is to hurt Dr. Keaton by ending their alliance. He also notes the day she swore she’d make him pay for leaving her.”

Maria sat perfectly still, hiding her shock.

But Gil had found his feet again. “…is testifying for the witness. Perhaps Your Honor could instruct him to wait until closing before he sums up his case full of lies.”

“I suggest you both stick to the facts at hand.” Jake’s tone remained utterly calm. “Mr. Collier, have you any more questions for this witness?”

“No, Your Honor. I think we all know—”

“Mr. Collier, I gave you a break earlier. Are you asking for a contempt charge?”

Buck attempted a defiant look, but his squarish jaw wobbled. “No, sir.”

“Thank you. Mr. Daley, any redirect?”

“Yes.” Gil grabbed his notepad, but didn’t even glance at the yellow pages as he stepped to the podium. “Dr. Keaton, did you have an affair with Griff Butler?”

“No.”

“Did you read his diary?”

“No.”

“If he claims in his journal that you were in love with him, or that you and he had a sexual relationship, will that be a lie?”

“Yes.”

“Did you threaten to accuse him of murder?”

“No.”

“Did he confess to shooting his parents?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t afford a second of hesitation. Her future did matter—desperately.

“Have you been honest in giving your testimony?”

“Yes.”

He stepped back, flaunting his pleasure at ending on a rational note. “Nothing more, Your Honor.”

“Anything from you, Mr. Collier?”

“One question, Your Honor.” He danced with the silence for maximum effect. “Miss—Dr.—Keaton, do you love Griff Butler?”

Did he honestly think he could unnerve her now? “No.”

Buck exaggerated his disappointment, as if he’d expected her to find the moral strength to confess her sins.

“Mr. Collier?” the judge asked.

“I’m done with her.”

Maria looked at Jake. His gaze was troubled, and yet, a deep down kindness made him look like Leila, who swore he did not know how to care. About anything.

Leila had been wrong.

Like everyone else in this room, Judge Jake Sloane wanted to know if Maria had seduced Griff Butler.

THE NEXT MORNING, Jake lifted the collar of his black overcoat and yanked the cashmere collar around his ears. Normally, he hurried to work, certain he had the reins tight in his courtroom, but today, he didn’t know how to be objective. He also didn’t know whom to suspect, but the thought of Maria Keaton seducing that kid half enraged him and half filled him with dread.

He was ready with rage for a woman wrongfully accused. The dread came from his own confusing attraction to Maria, who’d ducked his every approach. He might not be the only man in town, but he had a mirror. He was okay to look at.

He had a good job. The evidence informed him women found him attractive. Since he’d finalized his divorce, the available ladies of Honesty had offered comfort in his so-called loneliness.

But the only woman he wanted had shied away from more than simple conversation.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, his collar now seeming to choke him. Maybe he finally understood why Maria had been so uninterested.

A flake of early November snow blew into his eye, and he yanked his bare hand out of his pocket to brush it away. Overnight the snow had covered the streets and piled up against the Victorian buildings on the square. With plenty more storm on the way, the sky was about as light as at sunset. Veering toward the courthouse, Jake had to pass the relatively new shops, all made to look weathered, in the recently misnamed Old Honesty Market.

Men in thick coats and gloves were swagging holiday lights from storefront to storefront while a woman watched, leaning on one of the cement posts that prevented traffic from entering the shopping area.

He sucked in a cold breath, but was it the air that froze his lungs?

Snow dotted Maria’s honey-brown hair. She crossed her arms over the top of the pillar and rested her chin on her hands. A long deep-burgundy coat cinched her narrow waist. She lifted one calf, rubbing it against the other as if to warm herself, and Jake imagined walking up behind her, sliding his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her silky hair.

Could she molest a client? A sixteen-year-old boy who’d needed her as much as any patient in Honesty could have?

As if Maria sensed his near-savage need for an answer, she turned. Jake stared through the fat, falling flakes. She looked back, her eyes anxious as if she had something important to say. It was the way she always looked at him—until she pulled a strange coat of touch-me-not around herself.

Was it that kid who stood between them?