Elyse pursed her lips, glancing over at Morgan to see how she was holding up. Her own food remained largely untouched—and not, in this case, because of her preoccupation with healthy eating and staying young and fit. After seventeen years as Morgan’s surrogate mother, she knew how much Lara and Jack’s homicides had cost their daughter. She had genuine doubts over whether Morgan could hold up under the strain of reliving that entire chapter of her life. “It’s appalling,” she agreed. “We’ve got to resolve it as soon as possible.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Jill’s forehead creased. “A wrongful conviction that’s almost twenty years old? Unraveling it to get at the truth will be a bear.”

“It’ll be done,” Arthur pronounced. “That’s a given, not an if. But that doesn’t change the fact that the whole situation’s indefensible. Not only because it’s Jack and Lara we’re talking about. Or even because Jack was such a high-profile A.D.A.” A muscle worked in Arthur’s jaw. “I was kept up-to-the-minute during those homicide investigations. I knew every move the cops made, every avenue they were pursuing.”

“I remember,” Elyse murmured. “You checked in with Detective Montgomery every day by phone. And you met with him once a week at your dad’s deli to go over the status of the investigations.”

“Yes, well, those conversations are what’s bugging me now. Detective Montgomery was never a hundred percent on board with the idea that Schiller was guilty. He kept saying it felt wrong, that there were inconsistencies nagging at him. Then Schiller confessed. That nipped Montgomery’s theories in the bud. The investigation was wrapped up. Schiller was tried and convicted. Case closed.”

“That’s the way the system works, Dad,” Jill reminded him.

“But it’s not the way I work. I shouldn’t have been so damned accepting. I should have made them review every piece of evidence even after the confession.”

“Arthur, don’t do this,” Morgan interrupted, speaking up for the first time since the meal had started. “Detective Montgomery ran through this same thought process in my office today. You’re both blaming yourselves, and that’s absurd. You pushed as hard as you could. A killer confessed. There was no reason to doubt that confession. End of story.”

Arthur shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and regarded Morgan with a brooding expression. “You said you hired Montgomery. That was a shrewd move. As a PI, he’ll take more risks than he could have as a cop. I’ll get in touch with him first thing in the morning, offer him whatever resources he needs. As for this Charlie Denton, I’ll place a few calls and make sure the decks are cleared for him to get whatever he can on the cases Jack was handling.”

“Thank you,” Morgan said gratefully.

The taut lines on Arthur’s face eased. “I don’t want thanks. I want you to do something for me. Ease off. You look like you’re about to collapse. I’m home now. Leave this in my hands and in the hands of professionals like Montgomery. You made great strides. You started the ball rolling. Now take a step back. You’re having a hard enough time coping with the anniversary of your parents’ deaths. Don’t ask more of yourself than you can handle.”

“I told her the exact same thing,” Jill chimed in. “Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

Morgan forced a strained smile. “I listen to all of you. I realize you’re worried about me. I’ll try to gain some perspective on this, and pay attention to my own limitations. But tonight’s not the night to do that. In fact, tonight’s not the night to do much of anything. I’m beyond wiped out. All I wanted was to fill you in ASAP. Now that I have, I really need to head home and get some sleep.” She rose, weaving a little as she did.

“My driver’s parked around back,” Arthur informed her. “He’ll take you home.”

“That’s not necessary. I

can walk.”

“Right, and faint in the street. Forget it. You’ll take the car. Besides, it’ll help you dodge the press.” He glanced at Jill. “You, too. You’d never be able to walk by them without spouting your opinion on invasion of privacy.”

Jill’s nose wrinkled. “You know me well.”

“We know you both well,” Elyse amended. “We know your weak spots and we know when you’ve maxed out.” She hugged each of them in turn. “Now go home. Get some sleep.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm,” Morgan assured her. She sent Arthur a questioning look. “Can we talk tomorrow, after you’ve made those calls? Do you have time?”

“I’ll make time.”

“What about your meetings?” It was no secret that Arthur was swamped.

“It’s all under control,” he replied. “I’ll have plenty of time to reach out to everyone I need to. Remember, Congress is in recess until after the holidays, so nothing’s getting done in Washington. Which leaves me free to stay in New York and concentrate on my home base. I’ve got a dozen or so irons in the fire. In terms of national publicity, I’ve agreed to do a story for Time. ‘The Daredevil Congressman,’ I think they’re calling it. That’s a great angle. So stop worrying.”

He studied Morgan’s pale face, the dazed look in her eyes, and a flash of fierce determination crossed his face. “None of this means a damn. Your situation takes precedence over everything. I’ll make those calls first thing in the morning. After that, I’ll head over to Winshore. You can make me a cup of espresso with that fancy machine of yours.”

This time Morgan’s smile came naturally. “You’ve got a deal.” She felt like the weight of the world had been partially lifted off her shoulders. “Thank you, Arthur. This means the world to me.” She turned to Elyse. “Will you forgive our running out and leaving you two with the cleanup?”

“What cleanup?” Elyse waved away her concern. “Stacking plates in the dishwasher and putting cartons of uneaten food in the fridge? That should take all of ten minutes.” From the corner of her eye, she spotted her husband whipping out his cell phone, turning away to check his messages. A wistful expression crossed her face. “I think I’ll turn in early, as well. We all need to recharge. Any way you look at it, the road ahead’s going to be rocky.”

IT WAS 2 A.M. and Monty still hadn’t slept.

He rolled onto his back, giving up the fight and reconciling himself to a sleepless night. He glanced over at Sally, feeling a surge of peace and contentment at the sight of her lying beside him. They’d been remarried for six months now, and he still felt like the luckiest man alive. After three decades in law enforcement, he’d seen more tragedy and ugliness than he let himself dwell on—certainly more than enough to know that Sally encompassed everything that was good and beautiful. And this time around he had the maturity and wisdom to hang on to that.

Sally’s deep, even breathing told him she was sound asleep. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he slid out of bed, yanked on a pair of sweats, and headed down to the kitchen. As always, during his restless nights, he followed the same counterproductive but enjoyable routine—counterproductive because every aspect of it was guaranteed to prolong his insomnia. He brewed a pot of strong, black coffee, found a relatively fresh donut—which he microwaved for precisely nine seconds—and plopped down at the table to snack and think.

Tonight’s thoughts were all about the resurrection of the Winter homicide cases.

Tags: Andrea Kane Pete 'Monty' Montgomery Suspense
Source: readsnovelonline.net