Kara Lennox - Outside the Law

“You figured wrong. He turned up the other day.”

“No kidding. What’s he up to these days?”

“Nothing. That’s the point. He turned up in a shallow grave on some land owned by your mother. And you were the last one to see him alive.”

Beth’s head spun. This could not be happening. Mitch, her Mitch, a murder suspect? She simply could not picture it. He was so nice, so laid-back. He was a computer geek. Since when did geeks go around stealing cars and killing people? It was ridiculous.

“Where did you find Robby?” Mitch asked. “My mom never owned any land that I knew of. She and Daddy were poor as cockroaches at a homeless shelter, you know that.”

“Hell, Mitch, I don’t know the details. I volunteered to come here, pick you up and take you to Coot’s Bayou for questioning. Thought it might go down a little easier if you saw a friendly face.”

Mitch looked as if he wanted to spit. “Friendly, my ass. You’re loving this. And if you want me to come to Coot’s Bayou for anything, you’ll need a warrant.”

Celeste pushed the intercom button. “Raleigh, wherever you are, get your ass into the lobby. Stat.”

“Mitch,” Beth said carefully, “don’t you think you should clear this up?”

Judging from the surprised look he gave her, he’d forgotten she was there—and didn’t seem to welcome her contribution. “I don’t owe the Coot’s Bayou police anything.”

“They just want to talk,” Dwayne said.

“That’s what they always say,” Celeste interjected. “You think we were born yesterday, sonny?”

“Celeste, thank you, but I’ll handle this.” Mitch focused on his brother. “Dwayne, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. I haven’t even lived in Louisiana for seven years!”

“Doesn’t matter. We think Robby died the night that car was stolen.”

Mitch looked over at Beth. Gauging her reaction? And what did he see on her face? She could hide her emotions when dealing with the press, or in court, but when dealing with her own life, every thought that whisked through her mind showed plainly in her expression.

The revulsion she felt was for the crime, not Mitch, who couldn’t possibly have done it, but would he be able to tell the difference?

“Let me know when you have a warrant.” Mitch turned on his heel and sauntered out of the lobby, appearing completely unbothered. But his gait was slightly stiffer than normal, his jaw set more firmly. Anyone who’d spent as much time studying Mitch as she had could notice these things.

Had he fooled his own half brother?

Dwayne looked first at Celeste, who stared back with open challenge, then switched his gaze to Beth, perhaps seeking someone with a more open mind. “It’s in his best interest to cooperate,” he said. “There’s gonna be a warrant, and I’ll have to come back with it tomorrow.” He turned and exited to the street.

By the time Raleigh arrived, whooshing into the hall with her pen, notebook and digital recorder ready for battle, it was all over.

“You’re too late,” Celeste said. “Missed the show. Did you know our Mitch has a half brother? And a cop, at that?”

“No, I didn’t. What happened here?”

“I’ll explain,” Beth said. “But let’s go to the ladies’ room where I can have a meltdown in private.”

Raleigh said nothing until they were safely inside the ladies’ lounge on the second floor. Raleigh and Beth had held quite a few cry fests in here over the past few years. It was furnished with tufted sofas and gilt-framed mirrors, but its best feature was a big box of Kleenex.

“He said no?” Raleigh guessed correctly.

“He said he was busy.” Beth slumped onto a sofa, swallowing back the tears that threatened. What if Mitch got arrested?

“He didn’t issue a counteroffer?” Raleigh sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Never mind the date. His half brother was there asking a lot of questions about something that happened years ago when Mitch lived in… I can hardly say it. Coot’s Bayou. Did you know he was from a place called Coot’s Bayou?”

“Seems I heard about it at some point.”

“Did you know he stole a car?”

“He was a teenager at the time. The charges were dropped.”

“So you did know. You should have told me.”

“It’s not like he’s a criminal. He’s a good person, Beth.”

“Maybe.” Deep down, Beth felt that Mitch was good, not that she could trust her own instincts where men were concerned. “But now he’s being accused of murder. His own half brother seems to think he might have killed the guy—”

“Whoa, whoa. Murder? Start from the beginning.”

Beth recounted the conversation between Mitch and his brother as best she could. Raleigh listened attentively, taking quick notes, firmly in lawyer mode.

When Beth was finished, Raleigh pulled off her glasses and massaged her temples. “He needs to cooperate. He needs to clear this up.”

“That’s what I told him. But instead he got angry. I never saw Mitch get angry before.”

“Everybody has buttons. Obviously Mitch and his brother have some issues.”

“You have to talk to him, Raleigh. Convince him to hire himself a lawyer and go to Coot’s Bayou and answer the questions.”

“I can try. But honestly…you’re the one who knows him better.”

“And you’re the lawyer. You know how to persuade juries and get witnesses to admit stuff.”

“We’ll talk to him together,” Raleigh said decisively.

Beth nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it now.”

They exited the bathroom, but in the hallway Raleigh paused as if something just occurred to her. “Why do you think the half brother showed up with the news?”

“He said he thought it would go down easier if Mitch saw a friendly face. But that guy’s face was far from friendly. He was loving every minute of the exchange. There is bad blood between those two.”

MITCHWASSOSTEAMED about his brother’s high-handed prank that he didn’t return to the bull pen. He needed quiet, not the controlled chaos of the large, open area, where the Project Justice junior investigators and interns worked. He headed upstairs to his private office, shut the door and collapsed into the leather chair behind his desk.

He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.

He was supposed to be searching for a missing witness pertaining to another investigator’s case, but not even the prospect of losing himself in online research could distract him from his irritation.

Dwayne could have called. He could have emailed him or texted. He could have showed up at Mitch’s house. Walking into Mitch’s place of business and announcing to everyone within earshot that he was a murder suspect was the kind of cruelty Dwayne had always gone for.

He’d done it on purpose, of course—to humiliate Mitch as thoroughly as possible.

Mitch slammed his fist into his left palm. Hell, why was this happening now? He had a fight scheduled for Friday night, and he couldn’t afford to lose focus, not if he wanted to continue his winning streak.

He needed to sweat, to work out the anger and frustration. Beating the crap out of a punching bag, pushing his body until every muscle burned, was the only sane way he knew how to deal with stress. It sure as hell beat joyriding in stolen cars, or downing a case of beer.

After a futile hour, he decided concentrating was impossible. He closed his laptop and loaded it into his backpack. No one would notice if he cut out a couple of hours early, and he could put in a few more hours of research tonight at home. Right now, he had to get out of here.

He was heading for the door when someone knocked. Damn, no clean getaway. He yanked the door open.

Beth and Raleigh. Neither of them was smiling.