The Burden of Desire. Natalie Charles
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of pearls. She’d paired the ensemble with a dull gray pencil skirt that fell below her knees and black heels that pinched her toes when she walked. The whole look was dull dull dull. She used to be like this? This boring? No wonder Mitch—
Well. She wasn’t going to think like that. All the beige in the world didn’t justify breaking marriage vows. She wasn’t going to make excuses for him.
She was done with old Ronnie. In her first week in Vegas, she’d come across a fresh snakeskin that a neighbor said had belonged to a rattlesnake. It was just lying there on the side of the road, as if the serpent had taken off its coat and then forgotten to collect it on its way out of the sunshine. It’s a sign, she’d thought. This is what I am now. New Ronnie, who’s shed her old skin.
She’d picked up the remnant, taken it into the motel room she was renting, then spread it out on the bed. She’d never been out West before, and had never seen a snakeskin. The dull scales were brilliantly beautiful under the light, and she’d tried to imagine the sheen of the new ones. Each time the snake shed its old skin, she imagined, it would grow stronger, thicker and more deadly. Glossy and self-confident, it wouldn’t fear anymore.
Hadn’t Ronnie understood when she’d left Connecticut that night that she would never be the same? She’d started changing before she’d even climbed into the metallic cocoon of the airplane. But it wasn’t until she’d found that snakeskin that she knew what she was changing into. In that moment when she’d noticed the discarded pelt from the deadly animal, she’d understood in her heart that she hadn’t come out to Vegas to become a butterfly. She’d come out to become a poisonous snake.
“Ronnie.” The lawyer beamed at her again. “I should’ve asked sooner if I could get you something. Breakfast, perhaps? A coffee?”
He’d placed his hand on the small of her back, and the contact made her cold. “I’m fine,” she replied icily, and with a pointed glare at his arm. “And I’d prefer if you’d keep your hands to yourself.”
* * *
Sally didn’t have to turn to see who was barreling down the hall. Only one person had those footsteps. “Sally! Where is she?” Jack bellowed. He stopped when he saw her. “We need to talk.”
Her stomach knotted. “Your office?”
“Yours. It’s closer.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried not to sway from the reeling in her head. Ronnie Kruger was alive. Good for her, she supposed. Bad for the office, and really bad for Sally herself.
“I need to call Dennis Marlow,” she said weakly, stunned by what she’d just seen. “Mitch Kruger is still in jail.” She placed her palm against her cheek and shook her head, which did nothing to order her thoughts. “I need to find out what’s going on first.”
Jack’s face softened. “I’ll stop by in a few.”
She trudged to her office, well aware of the eyes of her colleagues following her. Now the calmness of her sanctuary offered little reassurance. She drew the blinds. Darkness was preferable—she needed to hide.
Marlow must have been waiting for her call, because he answered after the first ring. “Why, it’s Sally Dawson,” he cooed in an unctuous voice. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
“You’ve got some nerve, Dennis,” Sally hissed into the receiver. “A press conference? A freaking press conference?”
“It’s nice to finally hear from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You were my first call. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. I left messages on your office phone.”
Sally glanced at the device. Sure enough, it was blinking red to indicate she had a message. She sat in her chair, not wanting to admit that she’d been both late and distracted that morning. “I didn’t get the messages. But there’s no excuse whatsoever. You have a hundred ways to reach me.” She took a breath, trying to steady her nerves. “So Mrs. Kruger...what? Wandered back into town this morning?”
“She called me last night and said she was flying in from Vegas. I only met her this morning, and verified her identity.”
“And you couldn’t give me a heads-up before sending out a press release?” Sally pressed her fingers against her shut eyelids. “Dammit, Dennis. You’ve turned this into a three-ring circus.”
“Oh, come now,” he said, clicking his tongue. “This was a circus long before this morning. This case has been held up by the state’s attorney as an example of his staff’s dedication. You’re all so tough on crime and so clever that you don’t even need a body to go to trial. The magic of forensic science and all that.” He snorted. “I just shone the spotlight in a different direction. All of this works to my client’s advantage, really. Maximum impact.”
She rubbed at her forehead. God, was he right about maximum impact. The press was going to love this little gift.
“You need to file an emergency motion and withdraw all charges,” Marlow continued flatly. “Have it heard immediately so Mitch can get out of jail. He’s been held without bail for months. I hope it doesn’t come out later that you’ve been withholding evidence that would have exonerated my client.” His tone was pointed.
Withholding evidence. Marlow didn’t need to come out and say explicitly what she knew he was thinking. The state had charged a man with murdering a wife who turned out to be very much alive. He’d be searching high and low for proof that the state had overlooked exonerating evidence to manipulate the investigation’s outcome. A civil lawsuit could follow, and quickly. “I’d like to meet with Mrs. Kruger before I file anything. Once I verify her identity for myself, I’ll file a motion to withdraw all charges immediately. That goes without saying.”
“We’re at city hall now. We can be at your office in twenty minutes. Half an hour, tops.” Marlow sighed loudly into the phone. “I probably don’t need to tell you this, but this has been a long nightmare for my client. First his wife walks out on him, then the state brings charges against him for her murder. He lost his job. His son was set to testify against him. This proceeding has done immense harm to Mitch’s reputation and familial relations.”
Heat climbed into Sally’s chest. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Dennis. The state may ultimately have been mistaken, but we aren’t liable for any wrongdoing. We brought that case on sound forensic evidence.”
He laughed drily. “Not so sound, was it? Not really, when the alleged victim is still alive.”
Sally balled one fist and brought it to her lap, digging her fingernails into her palms. This was Marlow’s little way of informing her that Mr. Kruger would be bringing one hell of a lawsuit. It didn’t matter whether the suit was actually successful; the bad press would be damaging enough to the office. She bit her cheek until it hurt, to keep from saying anything she’d regret. “I’ll see you in our conference room in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.”
She had no sooner slammed her phone down than Jack darkened her doorway. “Sally.”
Her boss’s hands were on his hips, and his face was red. Not angry red, just an alarmed shade of ripened tomato. That made two of them.
“You finish everything you need to do?”
She propped her elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands. What a nightmare. “Yes, sir. For now. I’m meeting with Dennis in twenty. I need to meet the vic—Mrs. Kruger—for myself.” How disorienting to hear those words out loud, when she’d spent nearly a year thinking of Ronnie Kruger as a concealed body, not a living woman.
“You want to tell me how it is that the murder victim in your case is holding a press conference?”
“Besides stating the obvious?” She looked up to meet his concerned eyes. “You can’t be mad