Allison Brennan - See No Evil

“I’m not trying to manipulate you.” She stared at Connor, her dark emerald eyes full of emotion, imploring him. He hadn’t noticed the resemblance to her niece until then, but he saw it now, could almost picture Julia as a young girl, getting what she wanted with that determined look, those piercing green eyes. She wasn’t one to back down. He admired that trait as much as he despised it.

“You have contacts I don’t have, you can go places I can’t go. Please, Connor. You have to help.”

“Shit, Julia,” he whispered under his breath. “You’re a bitch, you know that?”

Her eyes darkened. “That’s what makes me so good at my job,” she snapped.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it at the hospital. Listen to Dillon interview Emily. Maybe that will convince you.”

“Dammit.” He raked a hand through his hair.

“Nine o’clock.”

“That’s twenty minutes from now.”

“I know.”

“Don’t count on it.”

She reddened. “I won’t.”

She turned on her heel and left.

Connor watched her walk down the stairs, head high, the queen in action. Damn, damn, damn. Working with Julia Chandler was the last thing he wanted or needed in his life. He’d finally been able to put aside the crap five years ago that had cost him his job, and she walks back into his life like a nineteen-forties femme fatale. Hot and sexy and too damn smart.

He wanted to say no. He wanted to throttle her. But in the end, could he live with himself if Emily Chandler Montgomery ended up in prison and there was a way he could have prevented it?

Besides, he was sick and tired of working for insurance companies chasing down fraud claims. Boring for one, but more than that, it was intensely disheartening that so many people in the world were out for the easy buck that lying had become second nature.

He went inside his small house and to the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would clear his mind.

He pictured Julia’s long legs and the body that came with them.

Make it a cold shower.

Julia drove back to the hospital from Connor’s. Never had a man, friend or foe, infuriated her as much as Connor Kincaid did. Arrogant and with a chip on his shoulder a mile wide.

A tickle of guilt reminded her that she was partly responsible for the size of the chip. But five years ago she hadn’t asked him to break the law, she’d only demanded that he do the right thing.

She walked into the room directly outside Emily’s and into a tense situation.

“I have Emily under seventy-two-hour medical surveillance,” Dillon was saying to a red-faced Detective Will Hooper.

“She may have crucial information about a murder investigation. You can’t stop me from interviewing her.”

Dillon raised an eyebrow. “My number one concern is the health of my patient. I will be running tests and speaking with her today, and if I think she’s strong enough to go through a police interrogation, I will let you in.”

“I’m not going to interrogate her, Dillon.”

Dillon just stared at him.

“Dammit.” Will ran a hand through his hair and saw Julia standing in the doorway. “You work fast, Counselor. We’re on the same side, you know.”

“Not if you think Emily is guilty.”

“I don’t have an opinion yet.”

“You can’t bullshit me, Will. I’m a prosecutor. You have an idea and you’re running with it until it pans out or proves to be wrong. I know what the situation looks like. And Emily is delicate right now.”

“You certainly didn’t think Yancy Inez was too delicate when you and I interrogated him after emergency surgery,” Will remarked, glaring at her.

Julia fumed. “Don’t you dare compare Emily to a man who raped and mutilated women!”

Dillon put a hand on Julia’s arm but looked at Will. “Will, you know me, and you know I’m not going to play games with the investigation. I need time with Emily. You know as well as I do if you push this and her, and she gives something up under duress-against the advice of her doctor-it’s not going to hold up in court. You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

Will wanted to say something, his mouth working, but no sound came out. Finally, he left.

Dillon rubbed Julia’s arm before dropping his hand. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Thank you for taking Emily’s case.”

“I read her charts. Do you know her current psychiatrist, Garrett Bowen?”

“I’ve met him in court a couple of times, and when Emily was put on probation last year.”

“That was for vandalism, correct?”

“She sprayed graffiti on the courthouse.”

“Where Victor worked.”

“Yes, but she said that had nothing to do with it. She’d been drinking-” She stopped. “Everyone thought it was Emily’s way of getting attention, acting out because her mother remarried.”

“The graffiti was definitely a cry for help, but probably not for the obvious reasons.” Dillon looked pointedly at Julia. “I’m going to ask some hard questions. You can observe through the window-you’ll be able to hear everything through the one-way speaker at the nurses’ station-but you have to promise me that no matter what, you won’t come in until I tell you it’s okay. No matter what she says, what she does, you must stay out.”

Julia reluctantly agreed.

Dillon walked through the door. Emily didn’t move and Dillon sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her. Sleeping, perhaps. Exhausted from a traumatic night, the drugs, the drinking. Julia ached to be in the room with Emily, holding her hand, telling her everything was going to be all right, but she had to trust that Dillon Kincaid knew what he was doing. She glanced behind her at the door, wondering if Connor would show. Both praying and fearing he would. He was the best at getting to the bottom of anything, but he played loose with the rules. Isn’t that why he’d lost his job in the first place? How could she have turned her back on his flagrantly breaking the law, taking matters into his own hands?

But isn’t that what she was asking him to do now? To get to the bottom of Victor’s murder, and Emily’s possible involvement, no matter what he had to do? Did that make her any better than him?

She rubbed her eyes, resigned that her history with Connor Kincaid was too much for either of them, and she would have to find some other way to help Emily.

Emily rolled over and opened her eyes, looked at Dillon. Dark circles framed Emily’s pale green eyes that were so much like Matt’s it was like looking into Julia’s brother’s soul. Tears clouded Julia’s vision as she remembered how she and Matt had depended on each other for everything. Their parents had one social obligation after another. Chandlers needed to maintain the act. They hid grandpa’s drinking and much, much worse. Image was more important than substance. Both her parents had affairs, but they were discreet. As long as the press didn’t know, as long as the image was clean, they could do anything they wanted.

Matt had been the one who took care of the Chandler Foundation. He went into the business because someone in the family had to and he had a knack for numbers. Matt protected her when she shunned her heritage and decided to use her law degree for public service instead of protecting the family name. Her mother never forgave her, would have disowned her if the trust had allowed it.

Matt understood and made sacrifices for the family so Julia wouldn’t have to. Julia needed to get away from the house, the money, the image and find herself and her own dreams. Julia accepted the good and the bad that came with forging her own path. She wasn’t always happy, but she was free to make her own choices. She’d given up a lot to do so, maybe too much. Because if being free meant losing Emily, none of it was worth it.