Ties That Bind by Kathryn Shay Page B

“How bad is it?”
    “Bad. The reporter who’s taken an interest in us—Eddie Wick—peppers our name through the whole thing.”
    “Fuck!” He skimmed the article. “‘No response from the judge and lawyer…police say Bingham’s note is genuine…don’t lawyers and judges have an ethical responsibility to their clients…”
    He lifted his chin and looked at her. He’d never been one to back down, either, even when the odds were against him. “Do I even need to ask if this means you’re going solo? I’d guess that’s the advice from everybody in your life.”
    Cocking her head, she gave him a sad smile. “Since when did I listen to advice?”
    He frowned. “What are you saying?”
    “I’m not going to clear myself at your expense.”
    “Why?”
    “Because it wouldn’t be right. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and I remembered where we were in our life together at the time we took on Anna Bingham.”
    Still he said nothing. Didn’t even move.
    “Do you remember our tenth wedding anniversary?”
    Of course he did…the warmth of the sand, the salty scent of the gulf, the hot, sultry night air…“How could I ever forget Siesta Key?”
    “Things were good then, Reese. Better than ever. At that time, you would never have cheated with another woman, let alone a criminal like Anna Bingham. Even if I hadn’t remembered that second honeymoon, I should have known, given the fact that she broke the law you love, that you wouldn’t hook up with her.”
    Reese had to swallow hard. His emotions were running high because of the case and because of Kate’s previous suspicions. “Thank you for that.” He averted his gaze from hers. “I was having a hard time with your doubts.”
    She squeezed his arm. “I would have felt that way, too, if I thought you were going to hang me out to dry.”
    “So,” he said, embarrassed by how good it felt to have her faith in him. “Want to come in and talk about what we’re going to do now?”
    She checked her watch. “I don’t have to be in court until ten.” She glanced at the house. “Won’t Little Miss Muffet mind?”
    “Be nice,” he said, easing a hand to her back and nudging her toward the door. “And I’ll refrain from badmouthing Peter Pan.”
    It was a silly conversation, but it lightened his heart.
    Once inside, he poured her some coffee and flavored it himself with hazelnut creamer. She looked around at the sunny, oak paneled interior. “This is lovely,” she said nodding to the room. “It reminds me of our kitchen on Old Town Line Road.”
    He hoped like hell that wasn’t unconsciously why he bought this house. “I like it.”
    Grabbing his own coffee and a legal pad and pen, he sat next to her. “First off, we have to hold a press conference, preferably today, to publicly deny Bingham’s allegation and present a united front.”
    “Agreed.”
    “Then we have to investigate two threads. The first is that Bingham did commit suicide and lied about our role in it for some reason.”
    “Right, then we’d have to determine why.”
    Heads bent, they began making a list of their moves: hire a private investigator to look into Anna Bingham’s life in and out of prison; study her phone calls, disciplinary action, etc., through prison records, which they’d already filed for; talk to her lawyers for the subsequent crimes; get a look at her personal effects.
    It took an hour to finish the list. When Reese pushed away the pad, he sighed. “Then there’s thread number two—that she was murdered and the note is false. Someone else planted it and made her death look like a suicide. And” —he shook his head— “blamed us for it.”
    “I’ve been thinking about that since we brought it up on the drive to see Sofie. It still means somebody is lying about us? Why?”
    “I’ve given it a lot of thought, too. I can only come up with one reason. That the person who did it has an ax to grind with us.”
    “Are you saying she was killed to