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“I’m back.” It was Travis’s voice. She slumped with disappointment even as her heart lifted slightly. It was really odd, but despite everything, she still felt sympathetic to Travis’s cause—more than when she’d first listened to his story. Was this what they called Stockholm Syndrome, when a hostage started to feel affection for her captor? Surely it wouldn’t happen this quickly.
“Hey,” she yelled. “Are you going to feed me? Because I skipped lunch. While I was supposed to be eating lunch, I was trying to get you some time with Daniel.”
“And I appreciate that. Really, I do,” he said. “I’ll get you something to eat. Sorry, I hadn’t even thought about food. I guess when your stomach is tied up in knots you don’t notice if you’re hungry or not.”
“Well, I do. And I’m hungry.”
“I’ll see what the people who lived here left behind in the way of food.”
Great. It sounded like she was in for a tasty meal of stale saltines, and maybe a can of cold soup if she was lucky. Travis didn’t seem the type who could whip up a four-star meal out of nothing.
She waited a long time. She stood, she sat, she recited poetry to herself, verses memorized years ago in school. “Listen, my children, and you shall hear...” When she ran out of poems, she paced the bathroom, counting the steps from one end to the other and back, and then multiplying by each circuit she made. How long did it take to check the pantry? Maybe he’d gone out for fast food.
She was almost to five thousand steps when an incredible smell reached her nostrils. What was that? Oregano? Garlic?
Travis tapped on her door. “I brought some food.”
“Are you waiting for me to give you permission to enter?” she asked incredulously. “I’m a prisoner, not a princess.”
“Just because I’m a kidnapper doesn’t mean I don’t have any manners.” He opened the door and entered the bathroom, quickly closing the door behind him, but at that moment she probably wouldn’t have run even if she could have. She wanted to know what was on the tray, covered by the dishcloth. It smelled amazing.
He looked around, trying to figure out where to set it down.
“On the vanity,” she suggested. Earlier, she’d found a sponge and some bathroom cleaner under the sink and had given the place a thorough scrub. If she was going to be held prisoner, at least her cell would be clean. “What is that?”
“Lasagna.”
“Like, a store-brand frozen-dinner kind, or the homemade kind that someone froze the leftovers?”
“Does it matter? I already had a taste of it. It’s not half-bad.” He set the tray down on the pink marble vanity and whisked the cloth off. He’d served her a good-size square of the lasagna on a china plate with a knife, fork, spoon and cloth napkin. There was also a serving of broccoli. A cold soft drink and a glass full of ice completed the picture.
“You forgot the vase with a rosebud.”
“Huh?”
She turned her head so he couldn’t see her smile. “Never mind. This looks delicious.” Then she added a grudging, “Thanks.”
“Holding you hostage is bad enough. I don’t intend to mistreat you while you’re in my custody.” He gestured toward the tray. “Go ahead. Sorry there’s not a chair.”
She didn’t care. She ate standing up.
“Whoever lived here sure could cook,” she said after a few hasty bites had dampened the worst of her hunger. She slowed down so she could appreciate the subtle spices and tangy tomato sauce. “Is there more of this?”
“This isn’t enough?”
“For later, I mean.”
“Oh. Yeah, there’s a whole pan.”
“Tell Daniel he can take his time meeting your demands.”
When he looked at her like she’d gone raving mad, she shrugged. “I’m kidding, of course.” She toyed with a broccoli floret. It wasn’t as good as the fresh stuff Cora always served at Daniel’s table, but with a little bit of lemon butter on it, it wasn’t terrible. “So what’s going on? Did you talk to Daniel?”
“I didn’t have his number. I called Project Justice. Figured they’d get him a message.”
She took that news with some alarm. “Depends. Who’d you talk to?”
“Celeste. The dragon lady?”
“Oh, I know who Celeste is,” she said grimly.
“You don’t think she’ll get word to Daniel?”
“She might. Or she might try to launch some kind of pseudo-SWAT-team rescue on her own. You never know about Celeste. I took a road trip with her once to Louisiana. Made the mistake of letting her drive.”
Travis laughed. “That bad?”
“She wanted to stop at a bayou crossing and look for an alligator because she needed a new pair of boots. And she wasn’t kidding.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a fool. She’ll do what needs to be done.”
“I wish I shared your certainty. When will you know?”
“I gave Daniel twenty-four hours to leave an answer on my voice mail. All he has to do is convince me he’s looked into the case.”
“That’s it? He just has to say, ‘Travis, you’re right. There’s been a miscarriage of justice. I’m going to make everything right for your brother’?”
“That’s a start. I also demanded proof he really has looked into the case. He’ll have to provide a detail that’s never been released to the public.”
“Not to blow holes in your plan, Travis, but Daniel can learn every detail about that case, inside and out, in about ten minutes. He has teams of researchers who can get the information in front of him so that he can provide the details you want.”
“That’s good. That’s all I’m asking for. That, and his word that he’ll take on Eric’s case, that he’ll assign investigators and give it his best shot. I understand Daniel is a man of his word.”
“Well, he is that.”
“I believe once he looks into it, he’ll see what I’m talking about. He’ll see Eric really was railroaded by an overzealous D.A. and a gutless defense attorney.”
“You do realize Daniel is married to the Houston D.A., right?”
“I know. The trial took place well before she took office.”
They fell silent for a few minutes. Elena finished up her soft drink. The cola was cold and sweet. She didn’t normally drink soft drinks because of the sugar; she’d forgotten how good they were.
“Doesn’t it bother you that even if you free your brother, you’ll take his place in prison?”
“Eric’s life is worth saving.”
“And yours isn’t?”
“Believe me, I don’t want to toss my life away. But Eric is my little brother. I promised our mother I would take care of him.”
The emotion in his voice was impossible to miss. He loved his brother. How could Elena continue to think of Travis as a villain when he was so devoted to his family?
She quickly changed the subject. “Why are you hanging here, watching me eat?” she asked when she was done. She blotted her mouth with the napkin.
“Actually, I’m keeping an eye on you. That plate is pretty heavy, and I haven’t forgotten the damage you did with a wrench.”
“Not to mention the knife and the fork,” she pointed out. “The knife is rather dull, but a fork in your jugular would hurt a lot more than the wrench did.”
He actually turned pale as his hand went protectively to his throat. Clearly this man hadn’t ever taken anyone hostage before. He didn’t know the first thing about it.
If she actually believed her life was in danger, she would use any means available—knife, fork, fingernails, teeth. But she didn’t. And she wouldn’t.
“Before Daniel makes a single concession, he’s going to want to know I’m alive. How are you going to prove that to him?”
“I’ve thought of that. I’m going to have you record a message for him. I’ll send it to him as a text attachment.”
“You can do that?”
“What, you think I’m too stupid to master some pretty basic cell phone functions?”
“Stupid? No.” That wasn’t the word she had in mind. A little crazy, maybe. “It’s just that...you said you had trouble with the Project Justice online form. I assumed that meant you weren’t very...you know, tech savvy.”
“I’m not when it comes to computers and...typing.” He shuddered as he said the word. “But voice recordings—that, I figured out.”
That seemed a little strange to Elena. The first thing most people figured out with a new phone is how to send a text or take a picture. “You can read and write, though...right?”
“Not my strong suit.”
She thought back to his difficulty with the form. “Do you have a learning disability?” she couldn’t help asking.
“Dysphasia, dyslexia, dysgraphia, attention deficit disorder... Take your pick. Counselors have labeled me with all kinds of big words over the years. Including ‘just plain pigheaded.’ So who the hell knows?”
No wonder the computer application had defeated him. But why was she concerning herself with that? Travis had a cell phone! It was probably in his pocket right now. Yes, she could see the rectangular outline on his thigh. His taut, muscular thigh. Dios, the man had a good body.
Elena had spent most of her youth around men who engaged in intense physical labor, day in and day out, either cutting sugarcane or working in the oil fields. All of her male relatives and family friends were strong and muscular. But Travis gave new meaning to the term “hard body.”
How humiliating to have to admit that she found her kidnapper handsome. And sexy. And how strange that, in the span of a couple of hours, she’d gone from terrified to... Well, she wasn’t afraid of him. He might be a desperate man, but deep down he was gentle, and he wasn’t going to hurt her.
“Tell me about your brother,” she said. “We’ve got some time to kill. Since I am a pawn in your little power play, I’d like to know why you are so positive that your brother is innocent.”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Because he’s my brother. I practically raised him. As kids, we were together constantly. When the state wanted to split us up into different foster homes, we kicked up such a fuss that they found someone who would take both of us.”
Foster care. It sounded like he didn’t have an ideal childhood, then.
“Don’t go looking at me like I’m some sort of charity case. It wasn’t like that. Our mom was a good mom. But she went through a rough patch when she didn’t have a job. We were in foster care for only about six months.”
“So you were very close to your brother when you were children. But people change, you know.”
“I’m still close to him. I spent a lot of time with him and Tammy. Eric loved her and MacKenzie more than anything in the world. He would have died for either of them without a second thought. There is no way he killed her, under any circumstances. No way.”
Elena’s heart ached for him. Whatever faults he had, Travis did love his brother. That was apparent.
“I believe you,” she said softly. “But Project Justice requires more than belief, because it takes more than that to get a case overturned.” Although Elena didn’t work directly for Project Justice, she’d learned a thing or two about how the foundation operated just from being Daniel’s assistant. “There has to be some kind of evidence that’s been overlooked or ignored—like a witness that was never interviewed or physical clues that weren’t properly analyzed—that sort of thing.
“Do you have anything like that in your brother’s case?”
“Not exactly. But I think there’s evidence that could be developed. There is one element of the case that was never brought to light.”
“And what is that?”
“Tammy was having an affair.”
“And this wasn’t brought up during the trial?”
“It was never investigated at all.”
“You think the man she cheated with might have killed her?”
“It’s an obvious theory that should be ruled out, don’t you think? Because the evidence they had on Eric was all circumstantial. There was no sign of forced entry into the house, Eric didn’t have an alibi, and they’d had an argument earlier in the day. In the absence of any other suspect, Eric looked guilty.”
As he went over some of the facts of the case, Elena started to remember more about it. Although she’d never been much interested in news coverage about violent crime before she’d started working for Daniel, since she’d been in his employ she’d started watching true-crime shows. Tammy Riggs’s murder was the kind of sensational event that attracted attention—well-to-do lawyer stabs his beautiful blond wife to death in the kitchen while their toddler is in the house.
“The daughter—MacKenzie, is that her name?”
Travis smiled fondly. “Yeah.”
“She was home when her mother was killed?”
He nodded. “She was only three. Eric came home and found MacKenzie there with Tammy...her mother’s blood all over her clothes. But she was never able to tell what happened. Now that she’s six years old, she says she doesn’t remember, that she didn’t see what happened. She might have been in another room, asleep.” Travis shrugged.
Elena nodded. “Project Justice has a psychologist on staff. She’s a nationally recognized expert on hypnotic regression and recovering lost memories.”
“You see? I know Project Justice can help. If only they’ll take on the case.”
Elena was very afraid that, no matter what Travis did, the foundation wouldn’t take on the case. There were many deserving cases, and Project Justice had only so many investigators, so many resources. That’s why the application process was important, so that the most urgent cases, the most obvious miscarriages of justice, were given priority.
Daniel would never cave in to Travis’s tactics, because it would send out the wrong message. Other desperate people might resort to violence if the tactic worked for Travis.
The best Travis could hope for was that this stunt would attract media attention.
“If Tammy was having an affair,” Elena said, “why didn’t the police look into it?”
“Because they didn’t know about it. Eric absolutely refused to believe it was true, and he refused to even bring up the possibility. His lawyer told me to keep my theories to myself because even the suggestion of cheating would give Travis a strong motive for murder.”
“And you knew about it...how?”
“I saw the signs. I know what it looks like when a woman is cheating.” He said this with no small amount of bitterness, indicating to Elena that some woman had cheated on Travis in his past. “But Eric was blind to it. Tammy was a saint. She could do no wrong—especially after she was dead—and that was that.”
