Midnight Run by Linda Castillo Page A

me.”
    “Don’t take this out on Ian,” she snapped. “None of this is his fault.”
    “He thinks I’m low enough to murder my own partner,” he said with disgust. “He won’t have a problem believing I killed Chandler.” Struggling to regain control of the emotions banging around inside him, Jack turned from the window and gave her a hard look. “Was he able to convince you? Do you think I killed my own lawyer in cold blood?”
    “Chandler called me last night,” she said. “ After he dropped you here.”
    Jack wasn’t an emotional man, but the words shook him hard. The surge of relief that followed was so powerful he had to look away, uneasy with the notion of her seeing just how desperately he needed her to believe him. “That puts you in a rather precarious position, doesn’t it?”
    “Yes, it does.” Her hands shook as she tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure how I want to handle this yet.”
    “You’re the only person—aside from the murderer—who knows I didn’t kill Chandler.”
    “Probably.”
    “In order for you to exonerate me, you would have to incriminate yourself. I guess the question is how far are you willing to go to vindicate the man accused of murdering your brother?”
    Her gaze met his. “I think we both know the only sane thing for you to do is turn yourself in.”
    “How many times do I have to tell you? Turning myself in is not an option,” he snapped.
    “How can you possibly hope to clear your name when every cop from here to the Canadian border is looking for you?”
    “If I turn myself in, it’s over, Landis. I’m a dead man. I don’t have a choice but to do this.”
    “I can help you. I mean, legally. Jack, damn it, I’m a lawyer.”
    Hope jumped through him that she would offer to help him, but he quickly shoved it back. He was tired of hoping and then having that hope wrenched away. “Look, clearing my name will be more difficult without Chandler, but I can do it. If I go back to prison, it won’t happen.”
    “You can be protected in prison.”
    “That’s crap and you know it.”
    “I can prove you didn’t murder Chandler.”
    Jack met her gaze steadily. “A good prosecutor will point out that I could have taken Chandler’s truck, driven to his office after he talked to you, murdered him, then drove back here.”
    “That’s barely plausible.”
    “So is my murdering Evan, but look what happened.”
    “Jack, the evidence was compelling….”
    “Screw the evidence! You know I didn’t murder Chandler,” he growled. “If there was any doubt in your mind, you wouldn’t be here. You’re just covering your bases because you’re afraid of what might happen between us if you let yourself believe me.”
    He didn’t miss the quiver that ran the length of her before she turned away. He stared at her arrow-straight back, the rigid set of her shoulders and wondered what it would take to bow that steadfast resolve—and make her believe him.
    “This isn’t about us,” she said. “It can’t be. Damn it, I don’t want it to be.”
    Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “You know I didn’t murder Chandler, Landis. And you know I didn’t murder Evan. Ancient history aside, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
    The scent of her hair drifted lazily through his brain, teasing him with memories he was insane to think of now. Memories that would do nothing but hurt him. Her shoulders felt small and delicate beneath his hands. But he knew there was nothing fragile about Landis McAllister. She bore the weight of the world on those shoulders with a tenacity that spoke volumes about the force of her personality and her competence as a lawyer.
    “I’m here because you involved me. Because I’m trying to do the right thing. Because I need to know the truth.”
    He desperately wanted to believe she’d come to him for other reasons, too. Reasons that had nothing to do with Evan or Chandler or the fact that he’d