скачать книгу бесплатно
Taken to the Edge
Kara Lennox
Ford Hyatt thought he was done.He was all set to give up on himself and on Project Justice. Then Robyn Jasperson walks back into his life. His former bad-girl crush looks better than ever and needs his help getting a case overturned. Robyn's got an ex-husband in jail, a murdered son and nowhere else to turn. Ford let her down before.But now he can find the truth, set matters straight and redeem himself. And time is running out. If he fails, she has everything to lose. If he wins, he has everything to gain, including Robyn's heart.
His touch felt way too good
“I’m okay now.” Robyn didn’t let go of his hand. She felt Ford slide across the big bench seat toward her. He slid one arm around her shoulders, and for a moment she thought he’d take her in his arms and kiss her. She kind of hoped he would.
She wanted his kiss more than oxygen.
It should have felt awkward as hell, but instead it felt like the exact right thing to do. She’d seen those old movie clichés of fireworks and waves crashing against rocks, but this was the first time she’d understood what those analogies meant.
Oh, God, he smelled good. The smell of his skin was intoxicating.
When his mouth finally made contact with hers, it was a sweet kiss, a gentle kiss, and Robyn didn’t want it to end. She wished she could bottle the way she felt right now, all tingly and warm and strangely right with the world.
Ford slid across the seat, resuming his spot behind the wheel. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since high school.”
Dear Reader,
Many years ago, I became fascinated by a news report about the Innocence Project, an organization dedicated to exonerating wrongly convicted people through the use of DNA testing. For years I’ve been mulling over the idea of creating a series of books about a similar organization. But the foundation I envisioned would use all sorts of methods for proving innocence—including a team of crack investigators, lawyers, evidence analysts and even computer hackers.
That’s how my fictional Project Justice was born. For the record, Project Justice is inspired by, but not based on, the Innocence Project. I designed my foundation not as a factually accurate portrayal of such an organization, but to maximize dramatic possibilities, for this and future books.
Taken to the Edge involves a lying eyewitness, a sloppy police investigation and advanced scientific analysis of physical evidence—all of which have been used in real cases to overturn convictions. Of course, the most important aspects of my story are the human ones, the personalities, motivations and emotions of the people involved.
As of this writing, there are dozens of “innocence organizations” in this country and around the world, working to help those the justice system itself has wronged. I applaud their courageous efforts.
Sincerely,
Kara Lennox
Taken to the Edge
Kara Lennox
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kara Lennox has earned her living at various times as an art director, typesetter, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and an ad agency. She’s been an antiques dealer, an artist and even a blackjack dealer. But no work has ever made her happier than writing romance novels. She has written more than sixty books.
Kara is a recent transplant to Southern California. When not writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of hobbies. Her latest passions are bird-watching, long-distance bicycling, vintage jewelry and, by necessity, do-it-yourself home renovation. She loves to hear from readers; you can find her at www.karalennox.com.
For my tireless editor, Johanna Raisanen, who took the time and made the effort to figure out where I belong in the large spectrum of Harlequin Publishing. Johanna, your encouragement and enthusiasm mean so much.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
IF ONE WILD TURKEY ON ICE didn’t make the pain go away, maybe two would. That was Ford Hyatt’s thinking when he’d ordered a second drink even though he needed to drive home. But two didn’t work, either, and now he’d have to sit in this damn ugly bar for at least two hours while he sobered up.
This never worked. He just wasn’t a drown-your-sorrows kind of guy. He was more of a go-fix-what’s-wrong kind of guy, except there was no way to fix this, no arguing with the fact that a woman was in intensive care, and it was Ford’s fault.
His supposedly infallible instincts had failed him. Again.
“Another?” The bartender nodded toward Ford’s empty glass.
“Sure.” Hell, why not? In for a penny and all that. He could take a cab home.
He first became aware of the woman on the bar stool next to him when he smelled her perfume, a light, teasing scent. He looked over, surprised to find her there. She’d slid onto that stool as noiselessly as a cat.
“Need someone to drown your sorrows with?” she asked.
How had she known? Maybe it was just a lucky guess. Guy drinking alone in a bar must have some sorrows.
“I don’t need company, thanks,” he said. Or, more accurately, he doubted she would want his company inflicted on her. Under other circumstances, he might have responded to the flirtation. He gave her a second look from the corner of his eye. She was tall and long-legged, and dressed too nice for this dive. The fact she was hanging out alone at McGoo’s meant he could probably have gotten her into bed without too much effort.
But the easy conquests of his youth held little appeal these days. Anyway, he was in a helluva mood. Being nice, even civil, would require too much effort.
She ordered her own drink, a diet cola, which made the bartender’s grizzled eyebrows rise in surprise. Ford was amazed the bar stocked diet anything.
He gave the woman a third look—and realized he knew her. He hadn’t seen her in well over a decade, and she’d changed quite a bit, filled out, darkened her hair a shade. But her eyes were the same, big and blue and innocent—deceptively so, some had said.
“Robyn?” He would probably regret starting a conversation. But he had to say something.
“I wondered if you’d recognize me. It’s been a long time.” No smile, but why should there be? Their history wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.
“You obviously recognized me,” he said, wondering why she would even bother acknowledging him.
“I heard you hang out here sometimes. Your number’s not in the book and no one would give it to me.”
“Cops seldom list their numbers.” God only knew how many wackos he’d arrested who’d love to find him, get a piece of him.
“Ex-cop now, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I left the Houston P.D. a couple of years ago.”
“Why’d you leave?” The question sounded impulsive. “I mean, you were good at your job.”
“Says who?”
“Well…everyone.”
“You’ve been asking?”
“It’s come up in conversation.” She paused to take a sip of her drink, and Ford found his gaze drawn to her lips pursing around the straw.
Idiot. Yeah, so he’d found her hot in high school. The bad girl, forbidden fruit. Always in trouble. Not someone he would have gotten involved with. But that hadn’t stopped him from getting a hard-on every time he saw her. Stupid how powerful adolescent memories were. He could suddenly remember every nuance of what it had been like for him back then, wanting something he knew would be bad for him, something that didn’t fit in with his ironclad plans for the future. Doing the right thing, but wishing he didn’t have to.
He took a gulp of his drink. “Any particular reason people have been talking about me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
The single word hung in the air, and he knew for sure that this was no chance encounter, not just curiosity on her part. She’d come here looking for him, and she had an agenda.
“I assume you know about me, right?” she asked, her gaze not meeting his. “You heard what happened?”
Had anyone in Harris County missed hearing about the tragedy that had struck Robyn Jasperson’s life? If they had, they’d been living under a rock. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. Stupid sentiment. Meaningless. But what could you say to a woman whose child had disappeared and was presumed dead? Nothing anyone said could make it better.
“Thank you.” The rejoinder was automatic, probably uttered thousands of times since the tragedy—what, seven or eight years ago? At least they’d caught the bastard who did it…
That was when a disturbing possibility occurred to him. Oh, surely not. But the silence between them stretched uncomfortably.
He looked at her, and she met his probing gaze unflinchingly.
“Do you know why I wanted to speak to you?”
“I’m slow, but I’m starting to get an idea.”
“You’re not slow. In fact, most people agree that you are extraordinarily intelligent.”
“You don’t think Eldon did it?” he asked, incredulous. The D.A.’s case against Eldon Jasperson had been circumstantial, but it had been convincing—convincing enough for twelve jurors.
“No,” Robyn said succinctly. “I do not believe my ex-husband murdered my son.”
Without comment, Ford settled his bill and paid for Robyn’s soft drink, too. “Let’s walk outside.” The stale-beer smell inside McGoo’s suddenly turned his stomach. Maybe it was just that he didn’t think some one as pretty and delicate looking as Robyn belonged in a place like this. McGoo’s was close enough to the Houston shipping lanes that it attracted a rough clientele.
Outside, the air could hardly be called fresh. Summer in South Texas was never fresh, but the ninety-degree heat from earlier that afternoon had abated to a tolerable eighty or so, muggy as hell but not so bad that your clothes became drenched the moment you stepped outside.
A worn footpath ran alongside the twisty road where the bar was located. Without asking her permission, he led Robyn there. They could talk with out being overheard. He realized too late she wasn’t wearing good walking shoes, just some teeny blue sandals with her jeans and silk T-shirt, but she didn’t complain.
“Why do you think that Eldon is innocent?” he asked point-blank. Project Justice, the charitable foundation he had worked for—until this afternoon—took on only cases with significant evidence to work with. The mere belief that someone was innocent, no matter how passionate, was not enough to get Project Justice to take on a case. There had to be new evidence, or perhaps a new way of scientifically testing old evidence, to meet the foundation’s criteria.
“I have three things,” Robyn said. Clearly she had prepared for this meeting. “First, a witness saw Eldon with Justin at the pizza parlor where he said Justin was taken from. Because the witness had drunk a beer—one beer—and hadn’t gotten every detail exactly right, the police dismissed him as a crank and never even provided his name to the defense. But you, as a former cop, know that memory is imperfect at best.”
“That’s a good point,” he said. “Any reason this witness wasn’t mentioned during Eldon’s appeals?”
“We’ve only just found him,” Robyn said.
“We?” Ford’s ears perked up. He wondered whom she was working with. “Are you teamed up with Eldon’s lawyer?”
“Frankly, I have no money to pay a lawyer. ‘We’ is myself and Trina Jasperson.”
“Trina—” It took a few moments for Ford to get it. “Eldon’s current wife?”
“The one who broke up my marriage, yes.” Robyn misstepped, and Ford grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.
“Maybe we should turn back,” he said. “I didn’t realize the footing was so bad on this path.” The mosquitoes were out, too. He waved away a couple that buzzed around his face.
“It’s okay. Let’s keep going.”
She probably wanted to prolong their meeting as long as possible to prevent him from walking away.
He took her arm again and firmly turned her around. “I won’t be responsible for you breaking your ankle. Don’t worry, I intend to hear you out. You’ve piqued my curiosity.” Robyn and Trina, allies? Ford knew Trina Jasperson only by reputation, but that wasn’t good. She’d been a party girl—possibly a call girl—before Eldon married her. “Frankly, I’m surprised Trina has stuck by him. She could have divorced him, gotten a huge settlement and moved on.”
“Not all women who marry rich men do so for the money,” Robyn said indignantly. “I didn’t.”
“Why did you marry Eldon?” Ford asked, then wished he hadn’t. That hardly had any bearing on the case, and it was none of his business. But a detective never loses his strong sense of curiosity. Had she sought respectability? A stable environment to raise children? Was it just the money?
“Hard as it is to believe, I loved him. He saw things about me that others missed, saw good qualities in me that I didn’t even know were there. He was good to me—well, to a point.”
She sounded comfortable with that answer—as if she’d defended her position many times. “Sorry. That was a rude question for me to ask.”
“I’ll answer any question you ask—anything—if it’ll help you free Eldon. He was hideously unfaithful, a serial cheater—that’s one of the things the prosecution used to tear down his character. But he was a terrific father, utterly devoted to Justin, and I love him for that. He grieved for his son, all the while having to go through that investigation, incarceration, the trial. To the public he looked stoic, perhaps even cold, but I knew him in a way most didn’t, and he was devastated by the loss of his son.”
Ford knew that even murderers sometimes grieved for their victims. “Is that point number two?”
“I’m sorry?”
