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“Case file.” He dropped his hand. “Buddy of mine made copies for me a while back. Not exactly on the up-and-up, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to your uncle.”
Excitement swelled in her core. “My mother’s case file?”
Matt nodded, pressing the folder into her hands.
She let it sit on top of her palms momentarily, before curling her fingers around the edges. “I’ve asked for this, but my uncle told me it had disappeared.”
Matt’s tone softened. “He probably wanted to spare you, but I thought you deserved to see it.”
She lifted her focus to his, again jolted by the intensity of his scrutiny. “Why?”
“Because the clue to whatever really happened to your mother is somewhere in here. I’ve been over this too many times to count, but you…” He looked down at the folder then retrained his stare on Lindsey.
Her stomach somersaulted, dread and anticipation tangling. The documentation represented the thing she wanted—yet feared—the most. The full story behind that awful night.
“You may be able to spot something here that no one else has. And someone’s waited until now to pull you in.” Matt shrugged again. “Maybe together we can make some sense of this.”
Lindsey swallowed, battling her desire to trust him and the reality of his identity. She had no doubt Matt’s father had killed her mother, but she’d never understood why. She’d never believed her mother had been involved with Tony Alessandro as anything other than a coworker.
“A jury convicted your father, Mr. Alessandro. I can understand your interest in trying to find a way to prove him innocent, but I harbor no doubts. I know my mother’s killer went to prison and died there.”
Pain flashed across Matt’s features as he patted the folder. “Evaluate this. Then make your decision. That’s all I ask.” He turned toward the door, hesitating before he headed outside. “My family was destroyed unjustly, Ms. Tarlington. Someone out there knows something. You know it, and I know it. I intend to find out what that something is.”
Lindsey fought down the anguish clawing its way out from the recesses of her mind. “Your father murdered my mother.” She spoke the words softly, flatly, as if the slightest exertion might cause more pain than she could handle. She straightened, the strength of her certainty flooding through her. “I don’t lie awake at night worrying about how that might have affected your family.”
Matt pressed his lips tightly together before speaking. “I don’t expect you to believe me now, but I know your reputation. You like the whole story. You evaluate each of your cases from every possible angle. Am I right?”
Lindsey nodded, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Matt pointed toward the folder. “Your mother deserves that same attention. Her real killer’s still out there.”
Lindsey said nothing as he stepped from the brick steps to the center walk. His suit jacket fit trim across his broad shoulders, narrowing down to his slender hips. Confidence emanated from each solid footstep he took, shoulders squared, head held high. He looked nothing like she imagined the son of a murderer would.
She tightened her grip on the folder. Did she want to know what lay inside? A calm resignation whispered through her. She did, and Matt Alesssandro knew it.
She felt compelled to believe him when she wanted to do anything but. The reality was that his doubts and questions tapped into her own need to know the truth.
“Did you see the ring?” she called out suddenly, her voice contrasting sharply against the quiet of the neighborhood.
Matt stopped partway down the walk, turning to face her. The play of the late-day sun against the angles of his face momentarily stole her breath. His chestnut hair fluttered in the breeze. “What ring?”
“I found it before I was hit.” Hope coursed through her. “It was in a plain, white envelope. My mother’s ring.”
He narrowed his stare, frowning. “The only thing I found was you. No envelope.” He shook his head. “No ring. I’m sorry.” He nodded toward the folder in her arms. “Was it the ring she was wearing that night?”
Lindsey nodded. “She never took it off.”
“All the more reason for you to review that. I’ll stop by your office tomorrow. We’ll go forward from there.”
As she watched his SUV ease away from the curb, anxiety and doubt coiled deep inside her.
We’ll go forward from there.
No matter what her instincts told her, Matt Alessandro was the son of the monster who had murdered her mother.
She must be insane.
Chapter Three
Matt pulled his SUV into the parking lot outside the Polaris Group office and gripped the steering wheel, shooting up one last prayer Lindsey Tarlington would see things his way.
She had to.
He scrubbed a hand across his face, sighing at the feel of wiry stubble beneath his fingers. Damn, he’d forgotten to shave. Again.
He’d been up all night laying the groundwork for a case pending against a local gang member. The kid might not be an honor roll candidate, but Matt had no doubt he’d been set up to take the rap in a burglary charge. He had no intention of letting his obsession with clearing his father’s name affect the representation of his clients.
After he’d finished the necessary paperwork, he’d spent the early morning hours poring over the extra copy he’d made of Camille Tarlington’s file. Everything seemed in order—had always seemed in order—except he knew his father was no killer. More so, his father had never been unfaithful to his mother. The prosecution had used the alleged love affair between Camille and Tony Alessandro to provide motive and intent. The theory wasn’t possible.
Matt shook his head. Tony had been a gentle man who had turned his love of the outdoors into a thriving floral business with shops in Philadelphia and New Jersey. Matt struggled to remember a single night his father had come home without a bouquet of handpicked flowers for his mother. He couldn’t think of one.
Yet Tony Alessandro had been convicted of a violent murder. A murder in which the body had never been found. His conviction had been based on blood spatter found in Camille’s station wagon and on the murder weapon found inside the shop. That, combined with testimony about the alleged affair, had been enough to send Matt’s father away, where a fellow inmate had fatally stabbed him six months later.
Matt’s chest ached. It seemed like yesterday, and yet it seemed a lifetime ago.
He pushed open the driver’s door and unfurled himself from his vehicle, heading straight for Lindsey Tarlington’s office. Common courtesy dictated Matt should have phoned before dropping by, but he’d never been one to worry much about common courtesy.
Look how far it had gotten his dad.
No. Matt had been well served by the element of surprise during his time in the public defender’s office. He could see no reason to treat Lindsey Tarlington any differently than he treated any other client or source.
Her pale gaze flashed through his mind’s eye, and his gut tightened. He shoved down the unwanted protective urge.
Whoever had left Camille Tarlington’s photocopied driver’s license was obviously privy to her personal effects, and perhaps much, much more. The possibility of clearing his father’s name loomed more closely on the horizon than it ever had. Matt wasn’t about to go soft just because of Lindsey’s vulnerable expression.
If she’d reviewed the contents of the file he’d given her, Lindsey would have to agree something seemed off, because while the case against his father appeared to be neat and tidy, it reeked of convenience. There was no way Matt would sacrifice his father’s memory and good name for someone else’s benefit.
LINDSEY SWALLOWED DOWN another mouthful of burnt coffee then rolled her shoulders. She’d been up all night staring at the horrific words and images captured in her mother’s case file.
It would be a miracle if she ever slept again. If the cold, hard facts didn’t bring back her nightmares, nothing would.
She looked across at her partners, Tally Cooke and Regina Payne, who sat, along with their office manager, Patty Jones, intently staring at the notes, reports and photos spread across the office’s conference table.
Each had a full plate right now, clients who needed help with cold cases or ongoing investigations, but Lindsey knew her partners’ input would be invaluable in talking out her mother’s case.
Tally was a whiz at logic—possessing an uncanny ability to analyze a puzzle or series of clues. Regina had a nose for the law and saw the world in black and white. Lindsey had always been the taskmaster, keeping the group on schedule and on track. How ironic that she now pulled their focus from their paying case work to her personal crusade.
“I never believed she was having an affair.” Lindsey shrugged. “I can’t accept that.”
“Why not?” Tally’s sharp tone jolted Lindsey from her fog of exhaustion.
Lindsey shrugged. “She loved my father.” Her chest tightened. “She wasn’t the type to cheat.”
Tally raised an auburn brow. “You were twelve years old. You’d have no idea if your mother was cheating.”
“She loved us.” Hadn’t she?
Doubt pooled in Lindsey’s stomach. She’d searched her mother’s art studio again in the early morning hours, after reading testimony detailing her mother’s adulterous liaison with Tony Alessandro. Her intuition screamed her mother hadn’t cheated on her father. She just wasn’t sure if that intuition came from Lindsey the daughter, the woman or the truth-seeker. She only knew it came—hard and sure.
Her voice grew more determined. “She never cheated on my father.” And if she hadn’t been involved with Tony Alessandro, why had he killed her? If he had killed her.
Lindsey shoved down the doubt. She wasn’t ready to follow that train of thought—to imagine her mother’s killer had gone free.
Silence beat for several seconds among the four women.
“Did your parents ever argue?” Regina’s gaze had narrowed, now matching the disbelieving expression Tally wore.
Lindsey shook her head. “Never.” She caught herself. “I mean, no more than any other married couple.”
While she hated the sympathy painted across her friends’ faces, she’d learned to ignore the pity a long time ago. She flashed on the memory of her father, taking her back to church for the first time after her mother had disappeared. “Keep your chin up, Lindsey. Don’t ever let them think you’re weak.”
She hoisted her chin now. “They had regrets, but doesn’t every couple? You have to believe me on this. She wouldn’t have cheated on my father. She loved him.”
“Why did the investigation focus on that?” Tally’s tone had gone all business, her specialty.
Lindsey ran her hand across the copies, wishing they’d yielded more than they had. “One of my mother’s coworkers claimed it was true.” She moved her hand from the papers to her face. She blinked back the fatigue that had seeped into her every bone many hours ago. “Her name was Lorraine Mickle. She came forward voluntarily, and the prosecution latched on to a crime of passion theory as the basis for their case.”
Tally’s eyes had narrowed, as had Regina’s. “There’s no proof other than her word?”
Lindsey blew out a frustrated breath. “No proof of their affair. No letters. No phone messages. No gifts. I’ve never found anything in her studio, either.” She frowned. “It’s like my uncle’s office built the case on the strength of one witness plus the circumstantial evidence and ran it in for a touchdown.” The touchdown that had shot Frank Bell’s political star into the stratosphere and sent Tony Alessandro to his death. Again, Lindsey swallowed down the doubt that nagged at her.
“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” Regina shrugged.
“What’s the hard evidence?” Tally gestured toward the folder.
Lindsey flipped through the papers until she found the crime scene report. “Large quantity of blood in the car, blood spatter consistent with that from a major artery, matching blood type found on a pair of floral shears in the shop with Alessandro’s fingerprints on it.”
“The shears could have been planted.” Patty’s serious gaze widened.
“You’ve been watching too much television,” Tally mumbled.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be questioning this at all,” Regina offered. “You have to admit the physical evidence is compelling. Don’t let the son convince you to stir this up if you don’t want to.”
Lindsey sighed. Seventy-two hours earlier her mother’s death had been nothing more than a horrible part of her past. Now it had pushed front and center in her every waking thought. Much of that had to do with Matt Alessandro, the case file he’d given her and his unflinching determination. Her stomach flip-flopped at the remembered intensity of his gaze.
Yet, truth was, the horror of her mother’s death had come back to life because of the photocopied license someone had left in her door. And the ring. The ring that had disappeared during a broad daylight attack everyone seemed to doubt.
Everyone except Matt Alessandro.
“What about the driver’s license?” She lifted her focus to her partners’ faces, deciding to leave the ring out of the discussion for now. Tally and Regina both blew out sighs and sat back against their chairs.
“Damn,” Tally muttered.
“Someone’s got information that’s not in these files.” Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut then snapped them open, straightening in her seat. “I need to find out what that is, even if the conclusion remains the same.”
“It does all seem fairly circumstantial.” Regina’s features had tightened and she nodded, meeting Lindsey’s stare head on.
“Okay.” Tally jumped to her feet, pacing a tight pattern behind Regina’s chair. “So where do we start?” She gestured into the empty air above her head. “Let’s try to forget this is your mother we’re talking about. What would we do first? What puzzle piece would we go after?”
“We’d question how thorough the searches were. If Alessandro was guilty, why was nothing found at his house? What other explanations could be given for the evidence found at the store?” Lindsey straightened. “And why give so much weight to the testimony of Lorraine Mickle?”
Regina leaned forward across the table. Tally had stopped pacing. Both stared intently at Lindsey.
“So?” Regina prodded.
“First, I’ll find Mickle and talk to her.” Lindsey sucked in a deep breath, determination edging out the doubt that had filled her moments earlier. “Then, I’ll question my uncle about how they conducted this investigation.” She looked from Tally, to Regina, to Patty, who had dropped into Tally’s vacant chair. “I’m going to find out exactly what happened to my mother.”
“I never doubted you would.”
The rich, male rumble sent the hairs at the nape of Lindsey’s neck tingling to attention. She knew the source before she turned. Sheer, unmasked appreciation glimmered in her friends’ eyes.
Matt Alessandro stood just inside the door. They’d been so engrossed in their conversation that not one of them had heard him enter. Lindsey held her breath, amazed by the impact the man had on her senses. The now familiar and unwanted edginess slid through her system at the mere sight of him.
He crossed the room, snagging a spare chair from Tally’s cubicle and positioning it between Regina and Lindsey at the small table. His gaze never left Lindsey’s. Not for a moment.
“So.” One dark brow arched. “When do we start?”
“I’M RELIEVED TO HEAR you agree with me.”
Matt stole a glance at Lindsey Tarlington’s profile and body language as she perched on the passenger seat of his SUV. She’d been as anxious to speak with Lorraine Mickle as he had been, and now she sat next to him as he drove toward Mickle’s home.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think the leather seat had given her a shock. The woman was obviously ill at ease as his passenger.
“I never said I agreed with you, Mr. Alessandro.”
“Matt.” He turned to face her.
She returned his look, her dark brows lifting, as if he’d surprised her. “Matt,” she repeated softly.
The sound of his name on her lips sent a spiral of appreciation coiling tight inside his gut. Not good. He had no time to become interested in anything about Lindsey Tarlington other than her investigative brain. From what he’d heard over the years, her intellect was her best feature.
He bit back a grin as she tugged the hem of her skirt over her shapely knees. Whoever had made the intellect observation obviously hadn’t been a red-blooded male.
Matt retrained his attention on the road, focusing on what she’d just said. “I heard you say you don’t believe the file contents are conclusive.”
“No.” She tapped a hand along the passenger door. “You heard me say I wanted to investigate further. I still believe your father killed my mother.”
He drew in a steady breath, doing his best to avoid losing his temper. “That’s insane.”
