Turning from the windows, she walked over and stood in front of him. "The contents of that envelope are on my mind."
"I asked you to destroy what was in it."
"Yes, you did," she retorted, facing him like a cool blond spitfire. "And now I have something to ask you."
"What is it?"
"Do you feel any obligation to my husband for the things he did for you while you were in prison?"
Zack nodded warily.
"Good. Matt will not impose on your friendship to ask a favor of you in return."
"But you will," he concluded shortly.
"You're right. In return for his years of loyalty and assistance, I am asking a favor in his behalf. We want you to sit in here and watch those videotapes and read the letter that's in the envelope."
Zack's jaw tightened, but he nodded and started to stand. "I'll do it later."
"No, now."
He glared down at her from his vastly superior height, but without any success. "It's little enough to ask of you," she pointed out irrefutably. "A half hour of your time."
"Fine," he snapped. "Will you allow me to do it alone, or do you want to watch me to make sure I keep my word?"
Having won, she conceded with disarming sweetness, "I'll accept your word. Thank you." She walked over, slid the first videotape into the player, turned on the set, and handed him the remote controller. "The first tape is of a news conference that Julie gave a day or two after she left you in Colorado. Have you seen it already?"
"No," he clipped.
"Good, then you're in for a triple shock. The second tape was filmed by an obvious amateur while you were being taken into custody in Mexico City. Keep your eyes on Julie when you're watching that."
When she left, Zack punched the start button on the remote controller, but he got up and walked over to the bar. The mere mention of Julie Mathison, the reminder of his stupid gullibility, made him want to drown himself in liquor. The realization that he was going to have to watch her in this room, in his house, made him swear long and eloquently as he threw ice cubes into a glass and filled it with whatever liquor was in the nearest decanter. Behind his back on the television, the mayor of the jerkwater town she lived in was announcing that she was going to give a press conference and everyone should treat her with respect.
With a contemptuous smirk, Zack walked back to his desk, perched his hip on the edge of it, and crossed his arms over his chest. Despite the fact that he was braced for the sight and sound of her, he flinched when her unforgettable face looked back at him, her dark hair caught at the nape in a bow. When she began to speak, his first reaction was mild surprise that she was so poised in front of what looked to be at least two hundred reporters.
A few minutes later, Zack slowly put his glass down, frowning with disbelief at what he was hearing. Despite the fact that he had sent her away from Colorado with every intention of crushing any feeling she had for him, she was looking at the camera, trying very successfully to make her captivity sound like a lark and Zack himself like a quick-witted hero who had amusingly thwarted her attempt to escape at a rest stop and then risked his life in an effort to rescue her from the creek during her second attempt.
At the end of her statement, when questions were being shouted at her from everywhere, she maintained her smiling poise while scrupulously avoiding incriminating Zack by giving explanations that Zack knew were honest although incomplete. When a reporter asked if he'd threatened her at gunpoint, which Zack knew he had, she'd evaded with a joke: "I knew he had a gun because I saw it, and that was enough to convince me—at least in the beginning—that I shouldn't pick a fight with him or criticize his old movies."
Biting back a reluctant smile at her wit, Zack sternly reminded himself that she'd probably said all this because she thought he might see her interview and be lured more quickly out of hiding. A minute later, however, when she was asked if she intended to press kidnapping charges against him, he watched her give a sunny smile and deflect the subject of what had been a federal crime with another clever joke: "I don't think I could get a conviction. I mean, if there were women on the jury, they'd acquit him in a minute, as soon as they heard he did half the cooking and cleaning up."
Zack reached for his drink, but a moment later her answer to a question made him set it down again, his brows drawing together in a frown of disbelief: "Miss Mathison, do you want to see Zachary Benedict captured?"
"How could anyone possibly want to see a man who was unjustly imprisoned sent back to prison? I don't know how a jury ever convicted him of murder, but I do know that he's no more capable of that than I am. If he were capable of it, I would not be standing here now, because as I explained to all of you a few minutes ago, I repeatedly tried to jeopardize his escape. I'd also like you to remember that when he thought we'd been found by a helicopter, his first concern was for my safety, not his own. What I'd like to see happen is for this manhunt to be stopped while someone reviews his case."
Zack picked up the remote controller, intending to rewind the film and listen to her last answer over again, watching her face for a sign of slyness or deceit, but the next question froze his finger on the button. "Miss Mathison, are you in love with Zachary Benedict?"
He watched her hesitate, then she lifted her eyes to the camera and said with a soft smile, "At one time or another, most of the female population of this country has probably imagined themselves in love with Zachary Benedict. Now that I've known him, I think they showed excellent judgment. He—" She faltered, then said with a catch in her voice, "He is a very easy man for any woman to love."
Zack hit the rewind button and played her last two answers again, watching the screen, studying her face and vocal intonations, searching for a hint of the underlying deceit he knew was there somewhere. He couldn't find it. What he saw and heard was courage and poise and all the things he had loved about her in Colorado.
Telling himself he was overlooking something, some scheme, some hidden reason for her to behave like that in front of millions of people, he took the other videocassette out of its cardboard case, got up, and shoved it into the VCR. This time, he walked behind his desk and sat down, bracing himself to watch a scene he could never forget; a scene that had put him on his knees, humbled before the world, and all because he'd lost his mind over a scheming little liar…
Who'd admitted to the world that she loved him.