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“You believe Finley O’Sullivan is unstable,” Bentley suggested.
“She has been in therapy for a long while now,” Briggs said. “There were several unsettling episodes that occurred during her battle to prove Carson Dempsey was responsible for her husband’s murder. Being the district attorney and representing the people of this county involves a good deal more than just taking down the bad guys. We have rules. The letter of the law. If you break those rules and the law, there is no place for you in a position of power.”
A blast of rage rushed through Finley. She turned to her parents. “I think it’s time for me to call it a night.” She shifted her attention to Matt then. “You ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
Finley hugged her parents and thanked them for the lovely dinner; then she was out of there.
Mainly because she refused to explode in front of witnesses. Except for Matt.
They were driving away before she dared to speak.
“Briggs is the scum of the earth.”
“Definitely,” Matt confirmed as he made a turn. “A total snake.”
“He wanted to give me a taste of what’s coming.” She saw right through the son of a bitch. He wanted her to see that the race would be personal, ruthless, painful.
Matt braked for a red traffic light. “I know you can’t possibly be scared.”
Finley’s head swiveled in his direction. “Hell no.”
“That’s what I thought,” Matt said, hitting the accelerator as the light changed to green. “You have walked over hot coals ... over glass.You”—he glanced in her direction—“have been to hell and back twice over and survived. Let Briggs throw out all those accusations in an effort to make you look bad. He will not win.”
Finley considered the things Briggs had said. All of it was true. At least he wasn’t lying about her, but that would likely come in time. Would people understand that she’d done what she had to do? Would they see that Dempsey had left her no choice? Briggs would present her bloodied history in a way that twisted her actions toward the negative. She would have to work hard to deflect his perverse criticisms.
Was it worth the fight?
Her life would no doubt be turned upside down again. People would be watching closely to see if she might crack this time. It was possible that the tension could cause friction between her and Matt.
So, Finley asked herself once more, would it be worth the fight?
Hell yes.
16
After the Murder
Thirteen Years Ago
Tuesday, November 21
Tennessee Department of Human Services
French Landing Drive, Nashville, 2:00 p.m.
Barton O’Sullivan stared, unseeing, at the reports. He could not concentrate.
Louise Cagle’s husband had died. A sudden heart attack, and the man was a heart surgeon. But who wouldn’t have a heart attack after what happened. Dear God, what else was the poor woman supposed to suffer? She was alone now. Devastated. With the death of her husband, she had lost everything.
What was he saying? Losing a child was unbearable in and of itself.
Bart gritted his teeth. He could not feel this guilt. He couldn’t. He simply could not. What happened to Lucy was not his fault. She was dead; nothing he did or didn’t do now would make a difference.
Except to her grieving mother.
He closed his eyes, pressed his fingertips there. He couldn’t change what had already happened. He could not undo any of it. It was done. That poor girl was dead.
