Suspect. Jasmine Cresswell
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reporters are probably annoyed that they haven’t been able to find Chloe to interview her,” Liam said. “Unfortunately, when they can’t get hard information, they tend to move on to speculation.”
Alexia grimaced. “Yes, we learned that when Chloe was part of the Olympic ski team. In fact, I was thinking the best way to counteract the harmful publicity might be to choose one of the more sympathetic reporters and give them an exclusive interview.”
“Bad idea,” Liam said quickly. “Trust me, any sort of family interview right now would be a very bad idea.”
“Why?” Tom had joined them. He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and she leaned against him gratefully. “That’s what Chloe used to do when the sports journalists got on her case. Her PR rep would call a few journalists and get some positive articles out there.”
“This is different.” Liam tried not to sound impatient. “We’re not talking about putting a stop to rumors that Chloe is overtrained, or having a hard time with her left knee joint. We’re talking about avoiding an arrest for murdering her spouse.”
“We could find somebody friendly,” Tom persisted. “Somebody from ESPN who remembers her warmly—”
“Take my advice on this, no reporter is genuinely sympathetic to a suspected murderer. Worse, when the piece airs, the police would be watching and analyzing every word that comes out of Chloe’s mouth.”
“But all she’s going to say in an interview is that she’s innocent!” Alexia protested. “And she can’t be tripped up because she didn’t do it!”
“The first lesson for you to learn right now is that innocence doesn’t count for much in a court of law, and even less in the court of public opinion.” Liam spoke flatly, no longer trying to win over Alexia and her husband. On the question of media contact, he was adamant. Chloe had spent most of her young adult life in the spotlight and it was natural for her family to think they knew how to handle reporters. They didn’t, not in the wake of a celebrity murder.
“I’m giving you advice based on my experience trying other high profile criminal cases,” Liam said. “I guarantee that there are plenty of secrets concerning her marriage that Chloe doesn’t want revealed, whether or not they relate to Jason’s murder.”
“But—”
“No buts. As long as I’m her defense lawyer, Chloe will refuse any and all interviews. I can’t force you two to do the same, but I’m strongly requesting it. If you want to help your sister, don’t speak to the press. Or the police, for that matter. Your only smart response to any and all questions is no comment, whoever is asking—friendly neighbor, church minister, cop, reporter, one answer fits all. No comment. Practice saying it until it’s a reflex. Advise your parents to do the same.”
Tom started to protest again, but Alexia put her hand on his arm, silencing him. “Then what options do we have? Sit back and wait for Chloe to be tried and convicted by the media?”
“We can’t tackle the media or the cops in a vacuum. We need a comprehensive strategy. I’ll have a better idea of exactly what we’re facing when Chloe and I have had a chance to talk.”
“You haven’t discussed the case with Chloe yet?” Tom sounded incredulous. “What have you been doing all day, for Christ’s sake?”
“Serving my existing clients.” Liam kept his voice level. “I spent most of today in court. Consequently, I don’t know enough of the facts of this case to have even the outline of a strategy.”
“I’m sorry.” Tom gulped in air and shoved his hand through his hair. “This situation is getting to me. I didn’t mean to criticize.”
“That’s okay. It’s stressful for everyone. However, right now we’re wasting valuable time. I need to get your niece back to her mother.”
“Like I said, the poor little thing has barely spoken since she got here.” Alexia dried her hands on the dish-towel, although she hadn’t actually washed them. “Normally she’s as chatty as Morgan and the two of them love to play together. But not today.”
Liam followed Alexia’s worried gaze toward the child at the table. Sophie was still coloring. Despite his inexperience with kids, even he was able to recognize her extreme focus as an avoidance tactic.
Ignoring the roller coaster that had begun operation in his stomach the second he walked into the kitchen, he crossed the room and drew up a chair next to Sophie. Next to his daughter.
“Hi, Sophie,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear the squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat. “My name is Liam. I’m…um…a friend of your mom.”
Sophie said nothing. She continued to color exactly as if he hadn’t spoken—as if he didn’t exist. By comparison, blue-nosed Peter had been positively friendly.
Liam felt sweat gather under his shirt collar. He was astonished to discover that he wanted, quite desperately, for Sophie to acknowledge his presence.
“Your mom asked me to pick you up and drive you home,” he said. “Well, not home exactly. I’m going to take you to the place where your mom is staying for the night.”
Silence.
“Your mom is really anxious to see you.” He wondered if anxious was too hard a word for Sophie to understand. “She’s waiting for us,” he elaborated. “If you’ve finished your picture, we need to get going.”
Sophie finally looked up from her coloring. Her face was pale and pinched with worry, but that wasn’t what made Liam feel as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. It was her eyes that had him gaping. They were huge, long-lashed and green. His sister Megan’s eyes staring out at him from his daughter’s face. Megan’s eyes, displaying Sophie’s heart-wrenching grief.
“Mommy isn’t waiting. She’s gone away,” Sophie said with unsettling calm.
“Well, yes, I know she went away,” Liam agreed. “She’s kind of busy right now. That’s why she sent me to fetch you.”
Sophie’s expression remained shuttered, as if she struggled to hold an unbearable weight of sadness inside. “Mommy is wiv my daddy. They’re in heaven. That’s far away.”
“Sweetheart, no!” Alexia swooped across the kitchen and hugged Sophie to her chest. “My God, I had no idea she was thinking that.” She rocked her niece back and forth, tears wetting her own cheeks although Sophie didn’t cry. “Sweetheart, your mommy is fine. She’s waiting to see you, I promise!”
“She’s in heaven,” Sophie repeated, but this time there was a faint question in her voice. “Wiv my daddy.”
Liam knelt beside Sophie’s chair, reaching instinctively for her hands. They were ice-cold and he chafed them as he spoke. “Sophie, I promise, your mom is waiting for you in Denver. She’s sad that your father is…” Dead? Murdered? Gone to heaven? Jesus, what euphemisms did you use to explain death to a three-year-old? Liam swallowed. “Your mom is waiting for you,” he finished lamely.
“We should have realized Sophie wouldn’t understand if her mother vanished almost the moment we told her about Jason,” Tom said. He rubbed his hand across the stubble on his cheeks. “Jeez, we really blew that, didn’t we?”
Alexia combed her fingers through her niece’s flyaway hair. “Sophie, sweetie, your mommy isn’t in heaven. She’s right here, I promise.”
“No, Mommy isn’t here,” Sophie said with incontrovertible logic. “Only you and Uncle Tom are here. And the other man.” She nodded toward Liam, finally acknowledging his existence.
“Well, she’s not right here in the kitchen, but Mommy is very close by. She isn’t with your daddy in heaven, I promise. She’s in Denver, like Liam said, waiting to see you.”
Sophie slowly put down her marker. “If my