Echo Of Danger

Small, that was one word. He’d imagined, given that Echo Falls was the county seat, that there’d be a bit more to it. It was attractive enough, he supposed. Tree-shaded streets, buildings that had stood where they were for over a hundred years and would look good for a hundred more, a central square whose fountain was surrounded with red tulips on this May day.

He passed a bookshop and spotted the law practice sign ahead of him. Morris, Morris and Alter would, if all went as planned, be changing its name to Morris, Alter and Glassman before long. He should be grateful. He was grateful, given that the alternative would have been practicing storefront law in a city where everyone knew he’d escaped disbarment by the skin of his teeth and where disgrace dogged him closer than his shadow.

He didn’t often let the memories flood back, keeping them away by sheer force of will. Now he let them come—a reminder of all he had left behind in Philadelphia.

He’d gone to the office unsuspecting that morning, kissing Leslie goodbye in the apartment building lobby as they headed toward their separate jobs—he at the prosecutor’s office, she at a small, struggling law firm.

And he’d walked into a firestorm. The materials that had been so painfully collected as a major part of the prosecution of George W. Whitney for insider trading and racketeering had unaccountably been compromised. Someone had given away their source, who was now swearing himself blue in the face that he’d never been in touch with Jason Glassman, that the records had been altered, presumably by Glassman and that the whole case was a put-up job designed to vilify a valuable and civic-minded citizen.

The case lay in shreds at their feet. All the hours of tedious work, all the manpower that had been poured into it, were wasted. The district attorney had needed to find someone to blame, and he hadn’t gone far. Jason had found himself out of a job and lucky to escape arrest.

Disappear, the district attorney had said. Don’t give statements to the press, don’t try to defend yourself, and we won’t pursue criminal charges or disbarment.

A devil’s agreement, he’d thought it, but he hadn’t had a choice. He’d left the office, driven around in a daze, had a few drinks, which hadn’t helped, and finally headed for home, trying to think of how to explain all this to Leslie.

But Leslie hadn’t been there. All of her belongings had vanished, and she hadn’t bothered leaving a note. Clearly she’d heard and decided it was too dangerous to her career to continue an association with him.

He’d thought that was all it was, and that disappointment had been bad enough. It was three days before he learned that Leslie was now an associate at Bronson and Bronson, the very firm defending George W. Whitney.

So all those nights when he was working at home, when she’d leaned over his shoulder looking at his progress, offering suggestions and support, had just been so much camouflage for an elaborate betrayal.

He’d been incensed. But when his first attempt to confront her had resulted in a protection-from-abuse order being filed against him, he’d had just enough sense left to cut his losses. The last he’d seen of her had been an elegant, expensively dressed back disappearing into the recesses of Bronson and Bronson while he was dragged away by security guards.

And here he was in Echo Falls, Pennsylvania.

Jase paused, hand on the door of the firm’s office. Franklin Morris had made a generous offer to his son’s law school classmate, especially since Jason and Frank had never been close. But Jase knew perfectly well that Judge Morris wanted something in return.

The receptionist seated behind the desk in the spotless, expensively furnished outer office was fiftyish, plumpish and looked as if she’d be more at home baking cookies than juggling the needs of a busy law practice, but the judge had said she knew more about the law than most young law school graduates. She greeted him with a smile and a nod of recognition. Word of his arrival had obviously preceded him.

“Mr. Glassman, of course. I’m Evelyn Lincoln. Welcome to Echo Falls. The judge is waiting for you.” Not pausing for a reply, she led the way to a paneled oak door bearing Franklin Morris’s name in gilt letters, tapped lightly and opened it. “Mr. Glassman is here, Your Honor.”

He followed her in, not sure what welcome to expect.

“Jason, I’m pleased to see you again.” Morris’s smile was polite but restrained, suggesting that it was up to Jase to be sure this was indeed a pleasure. “Come in.” Without rising from behind the massive cherry desk, he nodded to the leather client’s seat.

“Thanks. And thank you, as well, for lining up the apartment for me.”

Judge Morris waved the gratitude away. “Evelyn took care of all that. You’ve met her already. Trey Alter, my associate, is out of the office today, dealing with another matter for one of our clients.”

“I look forward to meeting him.” He’d been wondering how Alter would react to the judge’s hire.

“You’ll want to take some time to move into your office and get up-to-date on the cases we have in hand,” he continued briskly. “Trey will be relieved to have someone to share the load, since my judicial responsibilities keep me from taking a more active role.”

Jase nodded. Judge Morris couldn’t be involved in anything that might conceivably appear before his court, but that still left plenty of work. It had been assumed that the judge’s son would take over, but his death had changed things. There was obviously a need here.

He just wasn’t convinced that he was the right man to deal with it. He suppressed a grimace, thinking that old sayings became clichés because they were true most of the time. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“I’ve gone over the case material Alter sent me, and I’m ready to dive in right away.” He hesitated, but it had to be said. “As for the other matter we discussed, it’s not going to be easy to investigate your daughter-in-law in a town this size, not without making people suspicious.”

Morris’s jaw tightened. “I don’t expect you to mount a stakeout. Something a little subtler is required.”

“I see that, but I’m not sure what you think I can do.” Jason tried to keep his distaste for the strings that had been attached to the job offer from showing in his voice.

Swinging his chair around, the judge reached out to grasp a framed photo from the shelf behind him. He thrust it across the desk so that Jase could see it clearly. “My son. And my grandson.” The boy was hardly more than a toddler in the picture, face still round with babyhood curves. Frank hadn’t changed much from law school, still a good-looking guy, attractive to women, but with an ominous weakness about his mouth and chin.

Judge Morris paused, emotion working behind the facade of his judicial face. “Deidre was never good for Frank, never. He had a brilliant future here, could have become the youngest county court judge we’ve ever had. But she didn’t encourage him. From the day they married, she tried to separate Frank from his family.”

Not that unusual a story, was it? In-law relationships were notoriously dicey. Jase sought for a way to deliver an unpalatable truth. “Even so, I’m afraid that’s not a basis to file for custody of your grandson...”

“I do know something about the law.” Morris’s tone was icy. Maybe he realized it, because he shook his head quickly. “Of course not. My goal isn’t to take Kevin away from Deidre. She is his mother, after all. But she’s always been rather unstable, subject to irrational likes and dislikes, making quick decisions that end up hurting someone. If Frank were alive, he could serve as a balance to that...but he’s not, and I’m determined to do what I can to protect his son.”

This was becoming more unpalatable every minute. But how did he say no to someone who’d just given him his future back? “If you don’t intend to sue for custody, then what?”

“Leverage.” Judge Morris pronounced the word heavily. “I need leverage to convince Deidre that she and Kevin should move in with us. Once that happens, we’ll be able to provide the stability and the good life the boy needs. Without a father, subject to his mother’s whims... Well, I’m concerned about what will become of him.”

It sounded like the kind of messy, emotional case that had sent him into specializing in financial fraud, where the only emotion involved was greed. “Naturally you’re worried about your grandson. But I’m not sure what I can do.”

“Deidre is having an affair with a married man.” His expression was harsh with condemnation. “At least, that’s what my son thought. For all I know, that might have been what sent him speeding into a concrete wall. Find me proof, and I’ll know what to do with it.”

“If you’re sure of your facts...” he began.

Judge Morris stood abruptly, the framed photo in his hands. He stood at the window, staring down at the photo and then setting it back on its shelf, centering it carefully.

“In my position, I have to be careful. It wouldn’t do for a county court judge to be seen as collecting evidence against his own daughter-in-law. I don’t expect you to shadow her or sneak around taking photographs. You’re close to Deidre in age, living right next door. It shouldn’t be hard to gain her confidence and keep an eye on the situation.”

He caught Jase’s expression and gave a thin smile. “It wasn’t a coincidence that Evelyn rented the apartment in the old Moyer house for you. Deidre’s family home is the white colonial to the left as you face the house.”

“The place with the swing set in the backyard.” He could hardly help noticing it. His bedroom windows overlooked the property. Obviously the judge’s staff work was excellent. “There’s no guarantee that I can find anything to help you,” he warned.

Judge Morris gave a curt nod. “I accept that. Don’t imagine that your position here is conditional on success.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “Deidre is a manipulative woman who betrayed my son. I have to keep her from damaging my grandson.”

Manipulative. Betrayed. Did Judge Morris know that those words would strike fire in him? Maybe, maybe not, but it didn’t really matter. He already knew what his answer had to be.

“All right. I’ll do my best.” Now his jaw clenched. He didn’t have a very good track record when it came to outwitting a manipulative woman. But this time, at least, he was forewarned.

* * *

DRESSED FOR HER evening meeting, Deidre peeked into Kevin’s room. He’d been determined to stay awake until the arrival of Dixie, her neighbor, who’d offered to babysit tonight. But he was already sound asleep. She tiptoed to the sleigh bed that had been hers as a little girl and bent to kiss his smooth, rounded forehead. Kev slept with abandon, as always, one arm thrown over his head and his expression concentrated.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

She’d told him that the bed, with its curved headboard and footboard like an old-fashioned sleigh, had always brought her good dreams. Maybe it worked for Kevin, too. Although he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, he never seemed frightened, going back to sleep as quickly as he’d wakened.

Leaving the door ajar so Dixie would hear him if he called out, Deidre hurried downstairs, glancing at her watch. This first meeting of the Echo Falls Bicentennial Committee would probably be a fractious one, with representatives of every segment of town life in attendance. She’d promised to arrive early at the library and start the coffee—one of the inevitable chores falling to the only person on the library board who was under seventy.

A tap on the front door heralded Dixie’s arrival, and she came in without waiting for Deidre to answer. “Am I late?”

She slung her jean jacket over the nearest chair and pushed her black hair over her shoulders with a characteristic gesture. She eyed Deidre’s tan slacks, blue shirt and camel sweater with disappointment. “You look as if you expect this meeting to be boring. Why don’t you spice things up a little?”