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“I’m going to make a couple of calls,” she said. “If anyone needs me, ask them to wait.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Amanda shook her head as she entered her sanctuary. For Tessie to call her “boss” was something of a joke. They both knew who was boss in the outer office, and it certainly wasn’t Amanda. Tessie must think her in extreme need of a pick-me-up...which she was. Because joke all she wanted, she was truly terrified.
She had tried to tell everyone from the start that her grandfather should hire a lawyer more experienced with trial procedure, an expert in criminal defense. But no one had listened. They all told her she would do a great job. No one understood that criminal defense was an art form, just as was criminal prosecution. An ordinary, run-of-the-mill lawyer couldn’t just walk in off the street, prepare a case of this magnitude and expect to win. She certainly couldn’t. And if her grandfather ended up spending the rest of his life in jail because of her inability...
Amanda reached for her telephone index and punched in a number with the Lake Geneva area code. Ten minutes later, she had gained an appointment with the professor. After that, she punched in the number of the Ingalls mansion. Clara Myers, her grandfather’s longtime housekeeper, answered the phone.
“Clara, hello, this is Amanda. I’m not going to be home for dinner this evening. Actually, I just had lunch.... Yes, I know how late it is. Would you please tell my mother that I’ll speak to her when I get in, and tell Granddad...tell Granddad I might have some interesting news for him. No—” she quickly changed her mind “—don’t say that last part. Just tell him I love him, and that I’ll talk to him later, too.”
She stared at the phone once she’d hung up. Then her gaze drifted to her rows of law books, which looked almost as pristine now as they had when she first received them, a gift from her mother and grandfather upon graduation from law school five years before.
Law, the body of rules that kept the fabric of society from coming apart... She had fallen in love with it when she was fifteen and one of her high school classes had gone on a field trip to the courthouse in Sugar Creek. She had watched the lawyers maneuver back and forth, watched as the defense team tried to use the cold and impersonal rules to the advantage of their client, watched as the state’s representative held fast to the ideal of those rules. And from that day she had forgotten her earlier plan to become a veterinarian. She had haunted the library in Tyler, reading every book she could get her hands on that gave a view of the legal process.
She liked to think that, since becoming a lawyer herself, she had helped people. She hadn’t won every case these past five years, but she had certainly attempted to. Most of her work involved technical expertise: what paper to file and where. Few cases actually went all the way to a trial. She tried very hard to mediate between people, to help them settle their differences before they resorted to further legal action.
Amanda sighed, her pretty face, normally so ready with the high-voltage Baron smile, unusually serious. The law was cold and impersonal, which meant that emotion held no place in judicial decisions. Just because a jury didn’t like the way a defendant looked or behaved didn’t mean they could take out their disapproval on that person by finding him guilty. Their decision had to be based solely on the evidence presented.
But in this instance, it was her grandfather she would soon be defending, and she wanted him to have every advantage that the system could offer—every bit of warmth she could stir in the jurors’ hearts.
Her gaze moved to the newspaper clipping she had pinned to the wall earlier in the week—a picture of Ethan Trask. On it she had drawn the concentric circles of a target, with the bull’s eye the tip of his nose. At that moment, the tip had a dart sticking out of it. Not that she had made such a superb hit, though she’d tried for a quarter of an hour. She had ended up by marching over to slam the dart in at point-blank range.
Ethan Trask. The man she had seen so confidently issuing orders in the courthouse such a short time ago. The attorney general’s “Avenging Angel.”
“Oh, Granddad,” Amanda groaned softly, beneath her breath, “if only it were anyone else!”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_2eb3b9a9-0dfd-5c06-8c30-61d6c03ee296)
THE COTTAGE beside the wide lake nestled comfortably in the trees. Its look was ageless. It might have stood there for two years or two hundred. Amanda waited at the front door for Professor Williams to answer her knock. She shifted restlessly from foot to foot.
When at last the door swung open, a slightly older version of her favorite and most valued instructor greeted her. Like the man who had been with Ethan Trask, he, too, was her par in height. Only instead of being slender, Professor Williams was more than adequately insulated against any sudden disruption in the world’s food supply. His cheeks were round, his midsection rotund, and he had just enough unruly white hair left on top of his head to remind Amanda of an elf. His eyes contradicted the image. Instead of being benign and merry, they were probing and sharp. After his first sweeping glance, Amanda knew the Professor had guessed the reason for her visit.
“You’re wasting your time,” he said. Still, he motioned her indoors. “The only sport I’m interested in right now is fishing—bass, walleye, bluegill.”
The interior of the cabin was just as comfortable as the exterior. Neatly kept, with an overstuffed couch and chairs, it was perfect for a retired bachelor.
Amanda decided not to equivocate. “You’re the only person I can ask, Professor.”
“Why’s that?” he shot back. “Are you trying to tell me I’m the only person with a half a brain left in this state?”
“No.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t believe you.” His eyes narrowed. “You always did tell the truth, even when it wasn’t in your best interests.”
“Isn’t truth what the law is all about?” Amanda countered. “I seem to remember you had a special lecture you liked to give—”
“I did,” he interrupted her. “But I gave it so many times I don’t care to hear it again.” Finally he smiled. “It’s good to see you, Amanda Baron. Even under these trying circumstances. You’re a feast for the eye as well as the spirit.”
Amanda inclined her head, managing a small smile.
The professor looked her over more carefully. “I’ve kept up with what’s been happening via the newspapers. I read about your grandfather’s arrest and his indictment. Events of that sort are good fodder, especially when they happen in a nearby town. How is your family holding up?”
“Not very well, I’m afraid. They’re all trying to act as if everything will turn out all right, but they’re scared silly that it won’t.”
“And you?”
“Me most of all.”
The professor showed her to the couch and invited her to sit down while he went to make coffee. Soon he was back with two large mugs. “Do you take cream or sugar?” he asked.
“No, I like it straight.” She accepted a cup and took a small sip of the steaming liquid. It did little to warm her.
Professor Williams sat back, his cup untouched. “So, what is it you’re afraid of?” he asked.
“What am I not afraid of is a better question! I don’t know what I’m doing, Professor! I’ve never handled a criminal case before...at least, nothing more serious than some crazy local kid assaulting someone, or somebody else robbing a store. This is murder we’re talking about here! Life imprisonment. And my grandfather is the person charged! Everyone believes I can handle it—my mother, my brother, my sister...my grandfather. They all think that just because I have a law degree, I should be able to waltz into court and get Granddad off. I’ve tried to explain that it’s not that easy, but they won’t listen.” She set down her cup, afraid to hold it any longer in case it spilled.
“I believe you can do it,” the professor said quietly. “You have a very quick mind, Amanda.”
“But if I lose, if I do something wrong...if I overlook something, if I pick the wrong jurors...Ethan Trask will—”
“You have a very tough adversary.”
“The battle won’t be fair!”
“Which is why you came to me.”
Amanda sat forward, her chestnut hair lightly brushing her shoulders. “I thought possibly if you would be my cocounsel...”
He was already shaking his head. “It’s been three years since I left teaching and ten since I set foot in a courtroom. When I retired, I took leave of all that.”
“It’s not something a person forgets,” she maintained. “Not someone as capable as you. I’ve read your memoirs. I’ve read all the cases.”
“I didn’t say I’ve forgotten anything,” he corrected her sharply. “I said I took leave of that life. I swore to myself that I would never again come before the bench in any capacity as a lawyer, and I meant it. I saw too many doddering old men in my day, men who barely knew how to tie their shoelaces any longer, still trying to plead a case...and some of those men were behind the bench, too! No, I’m much too old and much too tired to inflict myself on the judicial system.”
Amanda immediately remembered the rumors of his ill health. “I heard that you weren’t feeling well. But you look so...healthy.” His color was good, his eyes bright.
He laughed shortly. “That’s something I put around to keep from being bothered. Too many people read that damned book last year and wanted advice. They came at all hours of the day and night.”
Amanda looked down. That was exactly what she was doing.
“I didn’t mean you,” he said, correctly interpreting her sudden stillness. “I’m talking about strangers, people I don’t even know.”
Amanda’s features were tight. She should never have come here. Professor Williams was a wonderful teacher, but they had never become personal friends. Too many years and too much experience separated them. Only desperation had brought her to this point. She stood. “I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time. You warned me in the beginning. I should have listened.” She smiled, and the sweetness of her smile had no artifice. “I’m glad that you’re not ill,” she added.
She turned to leave, but a hand stopped her. Professor Williams’s expression was whimsical. “You have something very special, Amanda. A quality many other lawyers only try to achieve. Sincerity just shines out of you, my dear. Stick with that, and you won’t have a thing to worry about.”
The compliment was nice and Amanda appreciated it, but she knew that sincerity alone wasn’t going to win her grandfather’s case. Only hard work would do that. Hard work and, as the situation now stood, a great deal of luck. “Thank you,” she said.
She started for the door again, opened it and was about to go outside when Professor Williams asked, “Would you be willing to accept me in the role of adviser? I won’t step into the well with you, I won’t talk to the judge or wrangle with Ethan Trask, but I will give you the benefit of what little knowledge I’ve managed to glean over the years. Would that be a satisfactory compromise?”
For the first time since her grandfather’s indictment, Amanda felt a spurt of optimism. She turned back to the professor, joy spreading in her smile. “That would be wonderful!” she said, her throat tight.
His round face softened. “Why is it old men are so often willing to make fools of themselves when asked to by attractive young women?”
“I would never call you old, and I would never dare to call you a fool. Thank you, Professor.”
“My name is Peter. If we’re going to work together, it should be as equals.”
Amanda tried the name. “Peter,” she repeated.
He nodded. “Now, you must set me straight on this case. As you know probably only too well by now, the media rarely manage to get the story right.”
“Gladly,” Amanda agreed.
She stepped back into the cozy room, curled up on the couch and, with cup in hand, gave her new friend an accounting of all she knew about her grandfather and the woman he was accused of murdering forty-two years before—his wife and her grandmother, Margaret Lindstrom Ingalls.
* * *
ETHAN TRASK SURVEYED the set of offices that would be his for the upcoming weeks and decided that they were beginning to shape up. Everyone involved with helping him to settle in had done their jobs efficiently and well. Desks were positioned, file cabinets provided, worktables set up. Even the secretary on loan from the local district attorney’s office was already hard at work, entering something into her computer. And in one corner, packed in several boxes, was the material he would need to make the state’s case against one Judson Thaddeus Ingalls. At present, he knew only the essentials. The seventy-eight-year-old man was accused of murdering his wife at their lakeside estate some forty-two years ago. The story circulated after the woman’s disappearance was that she had run away, probably with another man, leaving her husband to raise their young daughter. That falsehood had been widely believed until recently, when her remains had inconveniently turned up.
Ethan placed one of the boxes on the table nearest his desk and started to empty it. He would familiarize himself with the details of the case, first by going over the police reports and then by moving through all the other materials gathered for presentation to the grand jury. He dragged a chair over to the table and sat down.
He was beginning to work his way through the initial stack of reports when the man assigned to the case from the State Department of Justice came quietly into the room.
Carlos Varadero and Ethan had worked together several times before. Ethan liked the man, admired him for both his professional ability and his tenacity. Not much slipped by the keen eye of the Cuban. As an investigator, he was first-rate.
Carlos flashed a quick smile. “I have learned something that will interest you, my friend.”
Ethan pushed the papers away. “What?” he asked.
“This Amanda Baron, the woman who is to act as defense counsel for Judson Ingalls. She is his granddaughter. And...” The word was drawn out, then repeated for dramatic effect as Carlos brought another chair closer to the table. “And she is also the granddaughter of the deceased. There, what do you think of that? I had only to ask one or two questions. People here are interested in the trial. Many of them know Amanda Baron personally. A few know her family. More know of her family. They are very influential.”
Ethan already knew that the Ingalls family was influential in Tyler, and it didn’t surprise him that their influence carried beyond the small town’s border and into the county seat. The fact that he had been brought in as special prosecutor spoke volumes. What he hadn’t known was that Amanda Baron was one of them! “We have to get her off the case,” he stated curtly, his mouth tightening.
“That may be hard to do,” Carlos said.
“We still have to try. Her presence could prejudice the jury.” Ethan crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the public green surrounding the courthouse. He watched as people walked to and fro along the sidewalks. “No one should be above the reach of the law,” he said firmly. “No matter how wealthy, no matter how influential. Judson Ingalls thought he could get away with the murder of his wife, and if it hadn’t been for a quirk of fate, he might have managed it. I’m not going to let him make a mockery of this trial.”
For Ethan there was no other course. His whole life had been set along one path. It was as natural for him to separate right from wrong as it was to breathe. The pursuit of justice burned within him like a bright light, often setting him apart, forcing him to choose between what was expedient and what was just. It was a matter of pride for him that he had never backed away from a hard choice.
He turned from the window and lifted another box onto the table. “You might as well get started, too,” he said, pushing it toward his assistant.
Carlos’s brown eyes were amused. “I also heard that Amanda Baron is a very pretty, very determined woman. The people in the courthouse speak highly of her.”
Ethan paused. “Do you think that should make a difference to me?”
Carlos shrugged. “You are a man. You will notice.”
“I was sent here to do a job, Carlos.”
“Do you want me to find out more about her? I could go to Tyler tomorrow and talk to some of the people there.”
Ethan thought for a moment. “That might be a good idea. I’ll come along, too. Feel out the atmosphere of the place.”
Then he resettled in his chair and again started to sort through the material that would form his case. It was going to be a long evening.
* * *
AMANDA DIRECTED her aging MG into the wide driveway at the side of the Ingallses’ big house on Elm Street. From the collection of cars, she could see that Jeff was home, which meant Cece might be there, too, and that Liza was visiting, undoubtedly with Cliff and baby Maggie.
The elation Amanda had felt on the drive back to Tyler suddenly deserted her. Even with Professor Williams—Peter—offering advice, it would still be she who would have to face Ethan Trask. She might still make all kinds of mistakes, ask the wrong questions, let important points slip by.
She looked at the huge Victorian house, whose lights were striving to hold the night at bay. The family had been through so much this past year. From the moment the body was found, rumors had started to fly. Then rumor had turned to fact, when the remains had been identified as Margaret’s. From that point on, their lives had been one long nightmare. Sometimes it was hard to tell friend from foe. A few people wanted to see the Ingallses receive their comeuppance. Others remained steadfastly loyal, while still others swayed in the breeze of whatever public sentiment seemed dominant that day.
Instead of being torn apart, though, the family had grown closer—even Liza, who had once been estranged from them. They were united by the common belief that Judson Ingalls was innocent of the accusation made against him. And they looked to her to prove it.
Amanda shivered slightly in the freshening breeze, reacting to the awesome responsibility. But she soon set her shoulders, restored her confident smile and made her way into the great house that had sheltered members of her family for well over a hundred years.
Voices from the living room drew her to that section of the house. No one noticed her at first, so she had a moment to survey the scene. Her sister, Liza, sat on the floor, her long, lanky frame leaning back against her husband, Cliff Forrester. Cliff, relaxed in a wing chair, quietly combed a lock of Liza’s rebellious blond hair with his fingers and listened intently as she spoke. The girls’ older brother, Jeff, and his fiancée, Cece Scanlon, sat on the couch. Both looked rather exhausted from their respective work shifts at the hospital and the nursing care facility at Worthington House, not to mention the additional time each spent at the free clinic Jeff had set up in one of the empty office suites at Ingalls Farm and Machinery. For them to be off duty at the same time was unusual, as was the fact that they had chosen to spend their spare time with the family instead of away somewhere on their own. Alyssa, the Baron siblings’ mother, sat in another wing chair holding little Maggie. The worried strain that had become so much a part of her beautiful features was softened by the love she felt for her first grandchild. With strands of her fine golden hair falling gracefully over her cheeks, she played with the newborn infant’s tiny hand. Judson, the white-haired patriarch of the family, stood with his back to the bay window, his posture ramrod straight. He was the first to acknowledge Amanda’s presence.
“Amanda,” he said when Liza, too, noticed her and abruptly stopped talking. “I saw you drive up, but it took awhile for you to come inside. Are you having more trouble with your car?”
Amanda’s car was the joke of the family. As it grew older, it seemed to break down almost as frequently as it ran. Still, she loved it. It had been a sixteenth-birthday present from her father, and that above all made it special to her. She smiled. “Amazingly, it’s running beautifully.”
“You must have placed Carl on a retainer fee,” Liza teased. “I heard he closed his garage for two weeks this summer and went to Hawaii. Did you single-handedly subsidize his vacation?”
“No,” Amanda retorted. “Actually, we barter. I’m going to handle his divorce, and he’s going to rebuild my engine.”
“Better watch out about letting him get too close to your carburetor,” Jeff goaded. “I’ve heard he’s become quite the ladies’ man since he separated from his wife.”
“Jeffrey,” Alyssa admonished, pretending to frown while at the same time fighting a smile. “Leave your sister alone.”
“Yes, Jeffrey,” Amanda taunted, while Liza and Cece giggled.
Even Judson managed to find a grin. The family so seldom had occasion to laugh these days, any opportunity was appreciated.
Amanda placed her purse on a small side table and claimed a section of couch nearest her mother’s chair. She leaned toward the baby, smoothing a tiny tuft of fine blond hair. “And how is Miss Margaret Alyssa today? Learn any new words? Can we count past ten yet? Hmm?”
The weeks-old infant opened her eyes and blinked at her aunt, causing Amanda to feel the weight of responsibility expand to a new generation. Liza and Cliff had been through so much in their individual lives—Cliff having to learn to deal with the aftereffects of his time spent in Cambodia, and Liza at last coming to terms with one of the major tragedies of the Baron family, their father’s suicide. Now the two planned to make Tyler their permanent home, and as a result, young Maggie would have to live with the outcome of the trial. She would grow to maturity among people who would look upon her great-grandfather either as an upstanding member of the community, as he’d always been, or as a convicted murderer.
Amanda shook away the thought. She couldn’t deal with it at present. “What did I interrupt when I came in?” she asked.
All the smiles disappeared.
“We were talking about the trial,” Liza volunteered. “About Ethan Trask. Jeff heard someone at the hospital say he arrived in Sugar Creek today.”
Amanda felt her insides tighten. “He did,” she confirmed.
