“You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, not listening to a tale of woes,” she told him.
“Okay, I confess, I have an ulterior motive. You see, parties aren’t really my thing. If you put me to work, you’d be doing me a favor. Cook, bottle-washer, lawyer, advisor, whatever . . . I’m at your service.” He gave a little bow, flashing her a lopsided grin.
Alice didn’t know quite how to respond. Lately, she’d found herself growing increasingly dependent on him, and that bothered her. Still, it would be rude to reject his offer outright.
“All right, you can keep me company. But that’s all. You’re not allowed to lift a finger.” She continued on her way, Colin falling into step beside her. “So have you always hated parties, or is this a recent thing?” she quizzed him, as she pushed her way through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
“I used to love them. But that was in the days when parties were just an excuse to drink. I don’t remember what went on at half of them. Now that I’m sober, it’s a little like being thirteen again, trying to get up the nerve to ask the pretty girl to dance.” He flashed her a smile that made her blush, and disregarding her command took the dishes from her, scraping them and stacking them in the sink.
“I know what you mean,” she said. “I tend to get a little maxed out on socializing. A function of prison life. You get so little privacy, you end up craving it after a while.” He showed no sign of discomfort at the direction the conversation had taken, and now she abruptly turned to face him. “You know, I just figured out what it is I like about you.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t have to tiptoe around you,” she said. “Most people act as if my having done time is a disease that might be catching. My own family, for instance. They look pained if I so much as mention it.”
He shrugged. “It can be a pretty sensitive subject.”
“But you’re not like that.”
“I come at it from a different perspective. Besides,” he went on, “We’re not related.”
“Meaning?”
“Maybe your family feels they let you down.”
“That’s crazy. Why should they think that?”
He shrugged. “No reason. But that doesn’t always stop people from feeling guilty.”
“There was nothing anyone could have done,” Alice insisted.
“I’m not sure I buy that, at least not where your lawyer was concerned.”
“What do you know about it?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The years at Pine River had left her deeply wary of people nosing around behind her back. Usually when they did, it wasn’t because they were planning a surprise party for you.
“I looked it up,” he told her. “They have all the old newspapers on microfiche down at the library. I also got hold of the transcripts from your trial, over at county records.”
“Why go to all that trouble? I could have told you what you wanted to know.”
“I thought it might help with Jeremy’s case. And from what I could see, he’s not the only one who got a bum rap. If you don’t mind my saying so, your lawyer didn’t do such a good job defending you.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, though privately she’d come to the same conclusion.
“For one thing, he should have moved for a change of venue.”
“Maybe, but unless you know of a way to turn back the clock, what good does it do to second-guess him now?” she asked in frustration.
He shrugged, leaning back against the counter. “My point is that lawyers make mistakes. Even good ones.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s not too late to find another lawyer for Jeremy.”
“I don’t want another lawyer.” Alice had seen him in action; she knew what he was capable of. “What I
want
is for my son’s name to be cleared. Tell me honestly, what are his chances?”
He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, as if gauging how much information she could handle. “I spoke with the D.A. on Friday, and he’s not prepared to offer any kind of plea deal. From our conversation, it was pretty clear that he thinks he can win this one.”
“Based on what evidence?” She wrapped her arms around her middle, shivering in the warmth of the kitchen.
“The rape kit, for one thing. So far the test results are inconclusive, which doesn’t exactly put Jeremy in the clear. But they’re still waiting on the results of the DNA sample, which could add another wrinkle.”
Alice seized upon that. “You mean Jeremy might not have been the only one who was with Carrie Ann that night?”
“There’s always that possibility. And the eyewitnesses all testified that the three other boys had been drinking heavily.” Colin spoke guardedly, as if not wanting to get her hopes up.
“And if it turns out she
was
with one of those other boys?”
“It wouldn’t let Jeremy off the hook, but it would shoot some pretty big holes in the prosecution’s case. They’d have to show probable cause, and that’s a lot harder to do when there’s more than one suspect.” Nonetheless, Colin was quick to warn, “I don’t want you to pin too much on this, though. Chances are it’ll turn out to be a dead end.”
Alice felt her spirits, briefly buoyed, sag once more.
Slowly she let out a breath, looking around her. The kitchen that had been so chaotic earlier in the day was quiet. There was only the low hum of the refrigerator and the muted din of voices from the next room. Suddenly she was sure she had bitten off more than she could chew. The hulking old Garland, the scarred butcher block counters, the Hobart mixer under its plastic shroud, all seemed to mock her in some way, as if daring her to make a go of this possibly doomed enterprise. And how would she be able to save Jeremy if she couldn’t save herself?
She felt Colin’s touch against her arm, and she turned her head to find him eyeing her as if he knew exactly what was going through her mind, because in a sense weren’t they in the same boat, both struggling to stay afloat? “I just wanted you to know what’s at stake here,” he told her. “You should think it through carefully before we move ahead. I might be good at what I do—or at least I was at one time—but I’ve only been sober a little over seven months. And as we say in the program, however long it took you to screw up your life, that’s how long it’ll take, and then some, to get it straightened out.”
“We all have our baggage,” she said.
“I’m not trying to compare it to what you went through . . .” He paused, as if searching for the right words,
before continuing, “I’m not sure if anyone who hasn’t been through it themselves could possibly know what that’s like. But there are other kinds of prisons, and the kind people like me end up in, believe me, they can be just as hard to get out of.” His gaze turned inward, and she saw the pain on his face, coupled with some deep yearning.
“But you got out,” she said gently.
“For now, yes. But most days I feel like I’m barely hanging on.” He pointed toward the shelf over the counter, which held an array of bottles, various oils as well as the wine she used in cooking. “That bottle of Bordeaux there. I’ll bet you wouldn’t even have noticed it, if you didn’t know it was there. Me? It was the first thing I saw when I walked in. Not so long ago I’d have headed straight for it and, after I’d drunk every drop, gone in search of the wine cellar. And the next day I’d have woken with a wicked hangover and done the same thing all over again. So you see? I’m not exactly the Rock of Gibraltar.”
She shook her head. “I don’t expect you to be. That’s not why I asked you to take Jeremy’s case. I did it because you know what it’s like to be knocked off your feet. And you picked yourself up and moved on. I see that as a strength, not a weakness.”
His eyes searched her face, and she felt some powerful current pass between them. Mutual attraction . . . even lust . . . wouldn’t have explained it. It was more than that. She had the sense that they were the only two people in the world, a man and a woman who were barely hanging on and who saw in each other a kind of lifeline. Colin seemed to feel it too. He reached up, lightly brushing her cheek with the backs of his knuckles as if to remind her, or perhaps himself, that they were still in the land of the living. She
shivered, feeling tiny sparks ignite under her skin where he’d grazed it. “Well, here we are. We survived, didn’t we?” he said, wearing an expression that was both sad and ironic. “I guess that’s something in itself.”
She took a step back, as from a high place from which she might tumble. “So are we okay? You’re not bailing out on me?”
He shrugged once more. “I’m game, if you are. Now all we have to do is get Jeremy on board.”
She eyed him in confusion, feeling a small pulse of alarm. “What makes you think he isn’t?”
“For one thing, he’s not entirely convinced that he’s innocent.”
“What do you mean? Of course, he’s innocent!” she said, taken aback. Had Jeremy told him something in confidence that she and Randy weren’t privy to?
“I think the line is blurred in his mind,” Colin went on to explain. “He doesn’t seem to understand that taking advantage of a girl when they’d both had too much to drink doesn’t necessarily make him a rapist. Just a teenager who exercised some bad judgment.”
“Should I talk to him?” she asked.
“No, why don’t you let me handle it. I think I’m making some headway.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she said, taking note of the troubled look on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, his frown deepening. “But I’m getting a funny feeling about all this. I haven’t been around long enough to know all the politics at play here, but I agreed with Randy—I think Jeremy’s being railroaded.
Alice felt the blood leave her face. Colin was merely confirming her own suspicions. “You’re not imagining it. In
fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on.” She shared her concerns about Owen White. “I would have said something to you sooner, but I didn’t want you to think I was being paranoid.”
Colin nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll nose around a bit, see what I can find out. You think your brother-in-law might be able to give us some insight?”
“Gary?” She hadn’t thought of it before, but now it occurred to her that if anyone was privy to what went on behind the scenes, it was him. As deputy chief of police, he knew where all the bodies were buried, so to speak. “I’ll talk to him,” she said. “He can keep an ear to the ground, if nothing else.” Another thought occurred to her, and she frowned, saying, “There’s just one problem. Say we get wind of something fishy. How are we going to prove it? It’s not like we’d have evidence.”
“You never know when a piece of information will come in handy. Even something that might not have seemed relevant at first,” Colin said, with the same air of authority he’d shown in the courtroom. “One way or another, we’ll get to the bottom of it. And if what we suspect is true, we’ll find a way to nail the bastard.”
Alice was far less certain. “Sometimes I think Randy’s right—I should have left well enough alone,” she said, thinking about her own situation. “If I hadn’t known the truth about David’s death, if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, I probably would have believed Owen’s lies, and we’d all have been better off in the end.”
“It’s different this time.”
“Why is that?”
“You have me.” He gave her a crooked smile, as if to say,
for whatever it’s worth
.
Alice didn’t know how to respond. It was almost more than she could take in, that this man who until a short while ago had been a complete stranger, linked to her only through some remote connection involving their grandparents, would be sticking his neck out for her. In prison, when someone did something for you, there was almost always a price tag attached. Even Randy, who’d vowed to stick with her through good times and bad, had let her down. If her own husband, David’s father, couldn’t stay the course why should she believe that Colin would?
And yet . . . somehow she did. It wasn’t so much a matter of friendship as of fellowship. In helping her, maybe he was helping himself in some way. Either way, his words were like balm, calming her fears and soothing some ache deep within her. It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to grow close to another human being, with the exception of Calpernia. And here was this man offering the one thing she wanted most: the chance to save her younger son that she’d been denied with her firstborn.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” she said.
“You don’t have to.” He was standing directly underneath the overhead light fixture, its harsh glow throwing his face into stark relief. His eyes glinted darkly from shadowed sockets and his jaw line and cheekbones were as sharply defined as if honed by a blade.
Their eyes met and held, and for a moment she could have sworn he was about to kiss her. She could feel it almost as surely as the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. She had a sudden wild urge to twine her arms around him, to kiss him all over and taste the salt of his skin on her lips. Tension gathered as the moment stretched out, and a fiery bolt shot down through her belly, spreading through her
lower regions: a heat so intense it bordered on discomfort. She hadn’t slept with a man in nine years—or a woman for that matter, despite the commonly held belief about prison life—and however starved she was, the thought was terrifying. And from the look on Colin’s face it was obvious he was equally fearful.
Alice was the first to speak, “Well, I hope you’ll at least allow me to treat you to some free meals,” she said with a shaky laugh. “While I’m open, that is, which might not be for long. I hear there’s talk of a boycott. It seems the scarlet
A
stands for Alice, in my case.”
Colin didn’t look too concerned. “I don’t see you letting the local witch-hunters stop you, not after all you’ve overcome so far.”
“They don’t worry me as much as Owen does.” Having expressed her fears aloud, they seemed more real than ever. And now the scope of what she faced unfurled before her, frightening in its dimension. “He could shut this place down in a heartbeat. I have a feeling the only reason he hasn’t so far is because he has something bigger in mind. Something that’ll take me down along with Jeremy.”