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“Haven’t all our conversations been from your point of view?”
“Geez, will you quit sparring and hear me out?”
She refused to sit, but she leaned on the railing, one foot on the lower step. “I’m listening.”
“Suppose I went to my clients and said, ‘Hey, folks, the Maxwell woman doesn’t have your money.’ ‘How do you know?’ they’ll ask. ‘Because she told me she didn’t,’ I’ll say. Know what would happen then? I’d be laughed right out of my reputation, that’s what. My clients think you have the money, or at least you know where it is. You say you’re innocent, but you were found guilty. You didn’t file an appeal. If you were innocent, why didn’t you file an appeal? Why didn’t you keep fighting? Bonding agents and insurance companies question everything. My clients looked at that.”
Stormy shrugged. “I wanted to, but my lawyer explained to me that while the appeal was pending, I wouldn’t be eligible for early release. And if I lost, I’d have that much more time to spend in prison. I couldn’t take that chance. I just wanted to get the whole mess over with. My daughter needed me. Besides, appeals cost money, and I didn’t have anything left. I sold my house and business—” Her eyes glistened. “Liane is so young. Each day away from her was—”
“Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. If she broke down and started sobbing again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from comforting her—physically. And that would be a disaster. “Your attorney filed a motion for a speedy trial. Why didn’t you wait until after Hadley Wilson had been tried?”
“Robbing banks is a federal offense. And federal sentences are stiffer than state guidelines. So my attorney asked the Feds to allow state prosecution and filed for a speedy trial. Had I been found guilty under federal law, I’d still be in jail. The feds couldn’t get their case ready under the speedy trial act because they wanted to prosecute Hadley and me together. We petitioned for a separate trial and got it. I didn’t want to be tried with Hadley because we discovered he made his living robbing banks. It was a nightmare.”
It was full dusk now. A rising crescent moon cast sparse slivers on the ocean. Low lights aimed at the houses, not the beach, began snapping on at homes up and down the beach.
She waited for him to make some reply. He didn’t. He wasn’t sure what to say. All he could think was how good she looked. Her cheeks suddenly flushed, making him wonder what she was thinking.
Uncomfortable at the silence, she straightened. “I’ve got to go. Liane is in the house by herself, and I have supper on the stove.”
“Oh, sure. Not a good idea to leave kids alone. They get into mischief.” He offered her a crooked smile, one that made most women comfortable. “Feel any better?”
“No. I made a fool of myself, blabbing all over the place.”
He leaned back on his hands, looking up at her. “My turn next time.”
She uttered a tiny laugh. “I’d hold you to that, except I don’t want to see you snooping around me ever again. If you don’t mind, take a hike.”
“Oh, well, I do mind.” He watched a scowl rip across her features, but even a scowl didn’t do her looks any harm. She stepped on his fingers as she moved onto the wooden dune walk. “Hey!”
“Sorry.”
As if, he thought and stayed at the foot of the walk until she reached the kitchen door. Before she slipped inside, she turned. He thought he saw her lift her hand, but in the dimness, he couldn’t be sure.
“Stormy Maxwell,” he murmured into the night. “You’re blowing all my circuits.”
As he walked back along the beach to the car park, a pair of gulls followed him, swooping and squawking as if to reprimand him for invading their territory.
He cocked his head. “Sorry, fellas. But we all gotta play the game.”
4
The next morning, Liane bustled about the kitchen like a little mother, putting cereal in bowls, pouring milk, and buttering toast.
“You’ve got this down pretty good,” Stormy told her. “Do you fix breakfast often?”
“Only when Aunt Nina doesn’t get up. But I can never make the boys brush their teeth.”
“I do, too, brush my teeth,” said Davie. “Tommy’s the one who eats the toothpaste.”
The younger boy laughed. “I like bubblegum toothpaste. It’s zingy.”
“Chill out and eat,” ordered Liane. The boys accepted their cousin’s authority and began to spoon up their cereal. She eyed her mother. “Serving cereal out of a box is not the kind of cooking the kids do on Chopped Jr.”
“I hear you, baby girl.”
“Stop with thebaby girl,please. I’m seven going on eight.”
“Sure. How about sassy miss?”
