Truly Married by Phyllis Halldorson Page A

preliminary hearing was scheduled for Wednesday of the following week.
    Although Fergus had acquainted Sharon with the various steps in a criminal-court procedure, she was still confused, and when they got back to his hotel she asked him to explain once more what happened during a preliminary hearing.
    They were having drinks in the lounge, and he put his hand over hers where it lay on the table. “It’s the procedure to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to bind you over for trial.”
    He kept his voice low, but she heard a slight tremor. “The district attorney will present his case against you, and I will cross-examine his witnesses and challenge his evidence. It won’t take long, but again I have to warn you, from what I’ve heard so far he has a strong case.”
    Fergus squeezed her hand. “Unless we find a witness who saw you during the time you were away from the hotel on that day, you’ll almost certainly be indicted.”
    Sharon had already known this, but hearing Fergus say it again still sent a wave of terror through her and made her moan.
    He held up his other hand for silence. “But,” he continued, “if necessary, I’ll fight for you to be allowed to remain free on bail, and we’ll have at least three months before the trial starts to find a way to prove your innocence. You’re entitled to a speedy trial, but if that’s not enough time we can ask for a continuance.”
    He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, almost making her forget how bleak her future looked.
    “Believe me, love, I’m not going to let you be convicted of murder.”
    Sharon didn’t doubt but that he’d do everything in his power to prove her innocent, but she also knew he was taking on an almost impossible task.
    They finished their drinks, and she realized she could no longer delay wrestling with the latest impediment to her freedom and peace of mind. Was there no end to the problems that confronted her? They just kept popping up, one after the other, with frightening regularity.
    When the waiter came to replenish their piña coladas Sharon declined, saying she wanted to get home before the late-afternoon traffic crunch got any worse. They left the lounge, but in the lobby she took a deep breath, then stopped and turned to Fergus. “I...I promised Anna I’d invite you to dinner again tonight. Some—something has come up that she says you need to be consulted about.”
    A flash of apprehension darkened his face. “What’s happened?” he asked anxiously. “Dammit, Sharon, are you keeping something from me? How in hell can I defend you if—”
    “It’s nothing like that,” she quickly assured him. “It’s something I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, but Anna insists—”
    “I’ll be the judge of what you can handle,” he grated, and took her arm. “Let’s go up to my suite, where we can talk in private.”
    He tried to turn her toward the elevators, but she dug in her heels and resisted. “No. This involves Anna and Tracey, too, and they need to be there when we discuss it. If you’d like to come about six, we’ll have dinner and then—”
    “I’ll follow you home now,” he interrupted impatiently, “and forget about dinner. Nobody eats until I find out what happened between the time I left you last night and when you showed up here at the hotel this morning. Honestly, Sharon, I’d hoped you’d outgrown that stubborn independent streak. There are times when you could try the patience of a stone.”
    His hand still on her arm, he led her to the parking garage and asked the attendant to bring their cars around.
    While they waited in silence Sharon cast a furtive glance at Fergus. He was really ticked off with her this time. She could feel the anger radiating from him, and see it in the harsh set of his mouth and the storm gathering in his green eyes.
    She hadn’t meant to upset him. Once more she’d been overly dramatic. Maybe she should go ahead and tell him now what