Legally Binding Read online

  “What is it?” Lindsey moved up behind him. A can of spray paint peeked out over some old truck parts on the top shelf. The cap was bright red. She sucked in a breath. Here, the entire time they’d been looking for Gary that night, he’d been vandalizing her car.

  But Bart wasn’t looking at the spray paint. His attention was riveted on a lower shelf.

  She craned her neck to see around him. Tucked behind some odds and ends was a small black box. “What is it?”

  “The ELT for the helicopter.” He clipped off the words. A muscle twitched along his jaw.

  “Gary sabotaged the helicopter?”

  Bart closed his eyes as if struggling to hold on to his self-control. “How could he have done it? How could he have tried to kill us?”

  “And your father? Do you think he let your father out on the range?”

  Judging from the anger radiating from him, he did. He grimaced and pressed a thumb and forefinger to his closed eyelids, as if by doing so, he could erase what he’d seen—he could erase Gary’s betrayal. “After all Daddy did for him. How could he have done it? And for what? Money? When I get my hands on that bastard—” He opened his eyes and froze, staring at a spot among the clutter on the floor.

  A trickle of fear ran down Lindsey’s spine. “What is it?”

  Bart closed his eyes again. “It’s Gary.”

  She stepped around Bart. “Where is—” Her question caught in her throat.

  Gary lay on his side among a jumble of boxes, an arm stretched out toward them. A pool of red puddled under his body.

  Lindsey’s stomach heaved. “Oh, God.”

  Before she could turn away, a car swung around the burned wreckage of the horse barn, gravel popping under its tires. Blue and red lights flashed from its roof. Another sheriff’s car followed.

  “Oh, hell,” Bart muttered.

  Hurley scrambled out of the first car. A deputy Lindsey didn’t recognize climbed from the second and fell in behind him. Struggling to regain her composure, Lindsey took a step toward them. “We were just about to call you, Deputy.”

  Hurley looked past her. “What the hell do we have here?” Eyes narrowing, he rested his hand on the butt of his gun. Behind him, the other deputy did the same.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bart leaned back in the hard chair and tried to smother the worry building inside him like a raging brushfire. The tiny office in the Mustang Valley police station closed in on him. The dark lens of the camera in the corner of the room stared down on him. It hadn’t taken much to figure that Hurley would try to pin Gary’s death on him. He’d seen that coming the moment the weaselly deputy had roared up the ranch road, lights flashing. What he couldn’t figure out was how Hurley knew about Gary. And where he’d taken Lindsey.

  Finally, after letting Bart stew for at least an hour, Hurley pushed open the door and stepped inside. Cradling a thick folder in the crook of his arm, he crossed the tiny room in two steps. He dropped the folder on the desk with a thump and stood over Bart, hands on hips. “Who’d a thunk it’d end like this, eh, Bart?”

  Bart tried his best to stifle a growl. “Where’s Lindsey? I want to see my lawyer.”

  “We’ll get to that. First you got to tell me why you killed Gary. Did he find out about your plan to kill Jeb and take his ranch? Or was Gary in on it with you?”

  “Gary was the one who vandalized Lindsey’s car. He sabotaged the helicopter. He burned down the horse barn. He may have killed Jeb, too, for all I know. Look in his garage space. The evidence is all there.”

  “And that’s why you killed him? You thought he did all these things?”

  “I didn’t kill Gary.”

  “Don’t play me for a fool, Rawlins. I know damned well you killed Gary. I drove up while you were busy stashing the body, remember? Or did you kill him earlier, and you were just planting the evidence you mentioned when I drove up?”

  Bart’s head throbbed. “When you drove up, I’d just discovered the body.”

  “Right.”

  “Ask Lindsey.”

  Hurley rolled his beady eyes. “I’ll just rush off and do that.”

  “Where is she?”

  “That shouldn’t be your concern right now, Bart. You should be focused on explaining your ass out of this mess.”

  Bart narrowed his eyes. “How did you happen to be out at the ranch at just that moment anyway, Hurley?”

  “I came to question you.”

  “If you didn’t know Gary was already dead and you weren’t setting me up to take the blame, what were you planning to question me about?”

  “You really are a good actor, Bart. You should have gone out for theater in high school instead of football.”

  “I’m telling the truth, damn it.”

  “Right.” The deputy stroked his chin. “But then, I suppose you don’t know we found her.”

  “Found who?”

  Hurley stared at him, a smug grin on his face.

  Bart wanted to wipe that grin off more than he wanted air. “Tell me, damn it.”

  “Like you don’t already know. Unless there are more bodies out there we ain’t found yet.”

  A body. Someone else was dead. “Tell me.”

  “Pretty smart to send us on a wild-goose chase looking for Beatrice Jensen when she’s been in the Squaw Creek Reservoir all along.”

  Beatrice. He tried to catch his breath. Jeb, Beatrice, Gary…all dead. And Hurley wanted to believe he had murdered them. His mind spun. He gripped the chair arms.

  “You’d be better off confessing, Bart.” Hurley said, his voice suddenly soft with kindness. “The whole thing will go easier on you if you tell us what happened. Make us understand.”

  “I didn’t kill Beatrice, Hurley. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Hurley let out a frustrated breath. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

  Bart’s gut clenched. “What? What am I up against? Who’s doing this? Who’s paying you to railroad me?”

  The little deputy looked down at him and shook his head, the disgust at Bart’s suggestion plain on his face. “The justice system, Bart. You’re up against the Texas justice system. Murderers don’t go free around here like they do in bleeding-heart states like California. Here they get the needle. And that’s what you’re going to get if you don’t do something to help yourself.”

  Bart knew all about the Texas death penalty. He’d even been in favor of it once. Before he knew how easily a man could be railroaded for a crime he didn’t commit. Before he knew how easily he could be railroaded. “Where’s Lindsey? I want to talk to my lawyer.”

  “No lawyer is going to get you off. You’ve killed more than one person now. And the way I see it, those murders are all linked to your scheme to get your hands on Jeb’s land. I just talked to the D.A. before coming in here. And he promised me he was going for the death penalty.”

  Bart gritted his teeth. He remembered Lindsey’s explanation of the capital murder laws the day he’d met her in the Mustang County jail. And far as he could tell, Hurley was telling the truth. “I want to talk to my lawyer, and I want to talk to her now.”

  “You can talk to your lawyer all you want, but it ain’t going to be Lindsey Wellington no more.”

  Fear stabbed into Bart’s gut. “Why not? What happened to her?”

  Hurley leaned back against the wall, the smile on his face bigger than the state of Texas. “Lindsey Wellington is in the next office chatting with the sheriff. Too bad you got her involved in this. Seems she’s facing charges now too.”

  “I GOT HERE as fast as I could.” Paul Lambert stepped into the sheriff’s station office and took the chair next to Bart. He gave Bart a tight smile, clearly meant to be reassuring.

  Bart didn’t bother smiling back. “Is Lindsey okay?”

  “Don’s talking to her in the next room. He’ll be taking her case. I’ll take over yours, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Doesn’t Don just do wills? Does he know how crimina
l law works?” He’d never had cause to distrust Don Church and his abilities, but with the stakes so high, he had to be sure.

  “Lindsey will be fine, Bart. From what I’ve gleaned, the sheriff’s evidence of her role in the actual murder isn’t too convincing.”

  Maybe not, but Bart wasn’t willing to take that chance. “If the evidence isn’t convincing, why is she being arrested?”

  “She hasn’t been arrested. And neither have you. Not yet, anyway. You’re both merely here for questioning.”

  “Why is she being questioned?”

  “Because the sheriff has some physical evidence that suggests she helped you dispose of Beatrice Jensen’s body.”

  Bart sat forward in his chair and gripped the chair arms. “That’s ridiculous. What kind of evidence?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’d better damn well find out, Paul.”

  Paul stuck his hands out, palms to Bart, fingers splayed. “Don is handling Lindsey’s case. He’ll take care of her. You need to calm down.”

  Bart couldn’t calm down. Not with Lindsey in trouble. It was one thing for the law in this county to railroad him, but he wasn’t going to sit by and pretend to be civilized while they railroaded Lindsey. “What is she facing?”

  “Possible accessory-to-murder charges.”

  Bart jolted from the chair. This couldn’t be happening. He stepped forward to pace, but there wasn’t enough space in the cramped room to take more than a couple steps.

  “Don’t panic, Bart. I can’t see this going too far. The idea of Lindsey being involved is ludicrous. They’re just rattling their sabers.”

  He spun back to face Paul. “You don’t think they’ll indict her?”

  The lawyer grimaced. “They might. But that doesn’t mean they have a case. The grand jury is the prosecution’s own private dog-and-pony show. Marshall could probably convince the grand jurors to indict a ham sandwich, as the courthouse saying goes.”

  “She could face a trial? Prison?”

  Paul held up a hand. “I doubt the charges will stick. Not from what I’ve heard of their evidence.”

  “What about her career?”

  “It depends on a lot of factors. If she’s indicted, she could face disbarment.”

  Paul’s words hit him like a mule kick to the head. He tried to breathe. Lindsey’s career was her life. Being disbarred would kill her. He couldn’t let that happen. “What if I confess? What if I say I did it all without Lindsey knowing about any of it?”

  Paul shook his head. “You’re facing the death penalty now, Bart—multiple murders committed pursuant to the same scheme or course of conduct. You confess, and you’re putting yourself on death row.”

  “Isn’t there a good chance of that happening no matter what I do?”

  Paul grimaced again and looked to the floor, obviously not wanting to answer.

  “Isn’t there, Paul?”

  He let out a deep sigh. “I suppose there is.”

  “Then I have nothing to lose.” Bart drew himself up. God forgive him for the lie, but he had to do what he had to do. “Call in the D.A., Paul. I want to confess.”

  FINALLY ALONE, Lindsey hunched in the police station’s hard wooden chair and let Don Church’s visit wash through her memory. The partner had been nervous, his voice pitched a bit higher than it usually was. Especially when he got to the part about Beatrice Jensen’s murder and evidence that Lindsey had helped Bart cover it up.

  The way Don had looked at her, she could tell he had his doubts about her innocence. No wonder he was never a poker player. Or a litigator. Don didn’t have the nerves for high-stakes games.

  She pushed her hair back from her face. What Don thought didn’t matter. The truth didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was seeing Bart.

  What she was facing was nothing compared to what he must be going through. A triple-murder charge would qualify Bart for the death penalty. And the State of Texas took that designation seriously.

  She lowered her face into her hands and stared at the floor between her fingers. A sob worked its way up her throat, emotion choking her, threatening to drag her under.

  Footfalls outside the door cut through her despair. The door to the little office swung wide. But instead of Hurley Zeller’s smug sneer or Don’s dapper smile, a dark and handsome deputy she recognized from the aftermath of the barn fire peered down at her with the most unusual gold eyes she’d ever seen. “Lindsey Wellington?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re free to go.”

  His simple phrase sent a shock wave through her. “I’m what?”

  “You’re free to go.”

  “I’m not going to be arrested?”

  “No.”

  Relief sagged through her. But the relief was short-lived. It didn’t make sense they would let her leave just like that. Not after what Don had told her. He said they’d found her date book in the reservoir near Beatrice’s body. He said they’d found mud consistent with the reservoir on a pair of shoes in her apartment. The police didn’t let that sort of thing go. It just didn’t happen. “Why am I not being arrested?”

  Surprise registered on the deputy’s strong face. “You want to be arrested?”

  “Of course not. I just want to know why I’m not, Deputy…”

  “Steele. Mitchell Steele.”

  “Deputy Steele.”

  “I can’t tell you why, ma’am. I don’t know. The district attorney just told me you aren’t.”

  Lindsey’s mind raced. Maybe they believed Don when he told them the date book was in her stolen briefcase. Maybe the mud hadn’t ended up matching that at the reservoir. But somehow she got the feeling it wasn’t that simple. “What about Bart Rawlins? Is he being charged?”

  The deputy pressed full lips together.

  She lunged to her feet. “If I’m not being charged as his conspirator, then I’m still his lawyer. I need to know.”

  A muscle worked, flexing from jaw to sharp cheekbone. Finally he gave a single nod. “Bart met with the district attorney about fifteen minutes ago.”

  Bart met with Marshall Kramer? All Don had said was that Bart was talking to Paul. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a meeting with the D.A. “And?”

  “Bart cut a deal.”

  Her head spun. Her stomach swirled. It didn’t make sense. Bart hadn’t killed anyone. Why on earth would he plead guilty? “A deal? What kind of deal?”

  “I don’t know,” Deputy Steele said. “You’ll have to ask Bart. I’ll take you to him.”

  Foreboding gripped her throat like a strong hand. She nodded.

  Turning on a heel, Deputy Steele led her out of the room. He stopped at the next door in the hall, rapped on it twice and pushed it open. He stepped to the side so Lindsey could enter.

  From the hard chairs to the small desk to the camera peering down from the corner, the room was identical to the one she’d just left. Bart sat beside Paul. He looked tired, drawn, his skin pale under his tan. And instead of the straightforward way he’d always met her gaze, he dodged and looked away.

  A tremor shuddered through her. “Bart, I need to talk to you.”

  Paul pushed himself up from his chair and stepped toward her. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “How can it not be a good idea to talk to my client?”

  “It’s all right, Paul. It’s only right that I tell her myself.”

  Paul glanced back at Bart briefly before returning his scrutiny to Lindsey. Finally giving a nod, he stepped past her and out of the room. The door thunked closed.

  Lindsey dragged in a breath. “What is going on, Bart? What kind of deal did you cut with the D.A.?” Her voice came out in a choked whisper.

  His lips flattened. He focused on a spot in the corner of the room, as if he couldn’t bare to look at her. “I’m going to have to let you go, Lindsey. Paul is representing me now.”

  Her heart stuttered. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say, but this ce
rtainly wasn’t it. “You’re firing me?”

  “Yes.”

  The room whirled around her. “Why?”

  “Things have changed. I need a lawyer with more experience.”

  She staggered back. She’d always known this was a possibility. Hadn’t she suggested it to Bart herself? The fact was, criminal law wasn’t her specialty. She’d never taken a case solo, let alone a murder case. She was in over her head from the beginning. The smart thing, the prudent thing for him to do would be to find a lawyer with more experience. And although Paul’s current specialty was real estate law, he’d worked criminal cases before. Bart needed a lawyer like Paul.

  Then why did his decision feel like the thrust of a blade into her heart?

  She studied Bart. His shuttered expression. The way he looked everywhere but at her. There was more to this than he was telling. Much more. “I can understand your decision. But if that’s truly how you feel, why can’t you look me in the eye?”

  As if to prove her wrong, he focused on her. His eyes ached with sadness, hopelessness. And underneath she sensed something more. Something tender. Protective.

  She knew Bart. And she knew what he was doing. “You’re protecting me.”

  He shook his head and looked away.

  “The sheriff has evidence that I was involved in disposing of Beatrice Jensen’s body, and yet they didn’t arrest me. They let me go.” Her mind swam. Dread inched up her spine. “Bart, what did you do? What kind of deal did you agree to?”

  “I’m already going to prison for killing Jeb.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I confessed.”

  Lindsey tried to breathe, but she couldn’t draw air through her pinched throat. “You can’t confess.”

  “I’m not going to let them go after you just to save myself from a couple more murder charges.”

  “A couple more murder charges?” Panic swamped her. “Being convicted for killing three people in Texas is worlds different from being convicted for killing one. Life-and-death different.”

  His face was fixed as stone.