Sandra Brown - Smoke Screen

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you because I know you. But…” She gestured toward the closed door. “The DA, even these detectives, will be skeptical at best. It’s an awfully convenient memory loss. Get a lawyer. Now. Before you say another word to anyone. And get a urinalysis ASAP.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, but her smile was as thin as his defense.

BUMBLEBEES WERE BUZZING AROUND THE BLOOMING JASMINE outside the kitchen window. When Raley stopped talking, Britt could hear them as well as she might have heard an airplane flying low above the roof. Their busy drone seemed that loud.

“When I first saw her there in the bed,” he said in a distant voice, “I realized the effect it would have on my life. It was like…like…” He searched for a simile. “Like when you see a Christmas ornament fall off the tree and shatter into a million splinters of glass?” Britt acknowledged the description with a nod.

“Well, an instant before it does, you know there’s nothing you can do to reverse the law of gravity or change the consequences of the inevitable. The damage will be done and it will be irreparable.

“When I saw her lying there dead, I knew this event would be like that to my life. I couldn’t halt the certain destruction. My life was about to shatter. Trying to put it back to the way it had been before would be hopeless.”

Britt covered her lips to keep them from trembling. She knew that feeling. “What you’re describing is exactly how I felt when I woke up and found Jay dead beside me.”

He studied her Coke can, watching a rivulet of condensation roll down its surface and puddle at the base. “To think I’d been sleeping there beside her most of the night, while she was dying.” He stopped and dropped his chin onto his chest, massaging his forehead. “I was all about saving people, for crissake.”

She almost reached across the table to touch his hand in consolation but caught herself before she did. “You weren’t sleeping, Raley. You were knocked out. And you didn’t kill her. You were innocent.”

He raised his head and looked at her with green eyes gone hard and cold again. “That’s not what you told your television audience.”

“I never said you were guilty of a crime.”

“Not in so many words, but that was the implication.”

“I’ve said I was sorry.”

“And I’ve said it’s a little late for apologies. What happened that morning ruined my life. It cost me everything. Everything,” he repeated, banging the table with his fist for emphasis and making the half-empty Coke can jump. “And your slanted reporting made certain I couldn’t salvage any of it.”

“So what do you want me to do?” She flung her arms out to her sides. “Beyond believing you and accepting what you’re telling me now as truth, what can I do to make it up to you?”

He became very still, and the look he gave her made her want to pull her windbreaker closed. But because she was no longer wearing it, all she could do was retract her arms, fold them over her chest, and endure the intensity of his gaze and what it suggested. Refusing to simper and look away, she stared back.

The legs of his chair made an irritating screech on the vinyl as he got up suddenly. He moved to the center of the room and yanked the string to turn on the ceiling fan. He returned to the kitchen but not to his chair at the table. He began to pace the narrow space between the counter and the table.

“Candy was right. My defense was thin. But I had a couple of things on the plus side. The head bartender, rented for the party, admitted that the margaritas had enough tequila in them to knock a mule on its ass as well as some Everclear just to give them an extra kick.

“And Suzi Monroe’s autopsy showed enough cocaine in her system to stop her heart. But, like you, Britt, by the time I was tested for cocaine, and any of the common date rape drugs, they had already left my system.”

“So you didn’t take Jay’s advice?”

“No, I did. When the urinalysis came back negative, it made his appeal even stronger. I’d been cleared of any drug usage. Better to keep it that way, he said.”

“What about Wickham and McGowan? They heard you say that you’d been drugged.”

“Jay told me not to worry about them. He said he’d taken care of it. I guess he did. They never brought it up again.”

“The DA never knew?”

“Oh, yeah. Candy believed me and decided Fordyce must know. She and I had a closed-door meeting with him.”

“Just the three of you?”

“And this lawyer I retained.”

“What was his name? Started with a B, didn’t it?”

“You don’t remember with good reason. I got him out of the phone book. Turns out he didn’t know his elbow from his asshole. Anyway, we met with Fordyce.”

“And?”

“He listened, but I got nowhere with him. The semen in the condoms was mine. From Fordyce’s viewpoint, it stood to reason that, if I’d had sex with Suzi Monroe, I could also have encouraged her to use the cocaine. Even though my urinalysis came back negative, that didn’t prove I hadn’t tried to get my date hopped up.”

“Fordyce said that?”

“Basically. He kept calling my memory loss an ‘alleged’ blackout. If he believed in it at all, he reasoned it was alcohol induced. Nevertheless, he promised to carefully consider the case from every angle, which is politician-speak for ‘get out of here and quit wasting my time.’

“Candy berated herself for misjudgment. She had thought my earnest testimony to Fordyce would help my position. When what it actually amounted to was a confession from me that I’d been out of my head that night and capable of doing just about anything.”

“During this time, you were furloughed from the fire department.”

“The chief had no choice, really.” He sat down at the table again. “I never blamed him. He was only doing what he thought was right for the department. I was embroiled in a scandal involving drunkenness, sex, and death by cocaine OD. Not a good image for a fireman.

“Brunner used the incident to get me taken off the investigation. He made noises about hating having to do it, but secretly I think he was glad for the excuse to be rid of me.

“But the chief didn’t fire me right away. He was waiting, just as I was, to see what Fordyce would do. Would I be charged with reckless endangerment, manslaughter, or let off the hook with nothing more than a stern reprimand and a warning to be more careful next time?”

He stopped there, and she knew what was coming next. “That’s when I came onto the scene,” she said softly. Although she knew it was useless, she tried again to defend herself. “It was a juicy story for all the reasons you just stated, Raley. One of the city’s finest caught in bed with a dead girl.”

“Drugs, sex, and rock and roll.”

“Absolutely. It was a plum that got dropped into my lap. I jumped at it.”

“You sure as hell did. I had cameras, microphones, and lights trained on me day and night. You even had your damn news vans parked outside-”

When he broke off, Britt finished the sentence for him. “Outside Hallie’s house.”

She hoped he would continue on that subject, but he didn’t. He flipped open the lid to the toothpick box, closed it, flipped it open again, then closed it with finality. She imagined he closed the subject of his fiancée just as purposefully.

He took up the story again. “I was put through extensive questioning, but in the end Fordyce didn’t have enough evidence for a criminal case, so I wasn’t indicted. On the record books, Suzi Monroe’s death went down as an accidental overdose.”

He met Britt’s gaze with angry eyes. “That probably would have been the end of it. I would never have got over it-never will-but at least if it had stopped there, the burden would have been mine alone to carry. It would have remained a private matter. But then you went on TV and made Suzi Monroe out as a victim.”