Frank nodded. “Does he think I had something to do with Paul’s death?” He voiced the question that had been haunting him. That those closest to him might believe what the police claimed to be true.
She shook her head. “No. That’s the only thing he’s said to me in days. That he knows for a fact you’d never hurt his father.”
He dragged in a deep breath. “But I wanted to. I could have lived with the embezzlement as long as he was punished, but from the minute I found out that he’d slapped you again I wanted to kill him.” The rage he’d felt built up inside him once more.
Rage at his best friend and rage at himself. He knew from their army days that Paul had a temper and dark side, but over the years Frank had convinced himself he’d never take his fury out on his own family. He should have insisted that Sonya leave Paul the first time he’d hit her, but after confronting Paul, he’d promised to keep his hands off his wife and kid. But the other man’s darker moods had become more frequent over the last year and instead of talking to Paul about it, Frank had closed his eyes to the truth. Delusion had let Frank sleep at night but it hadn’t helped the people he loved.
And he did love Sonya. What had begun as a convenient friendship had blossomed after Melanie’s death. Frank couldn’t say the exact moment he’d fallen for his best friend’s wife or she for him. He only knew they’d been in love for years, but neither of them had ever said the words aloud or followed through on the emotional connection, never mind the physical. They cared about their families too much, respected each other, as well.
She cupped her hands around his face. “But you didn’t. You didn’t hurt my husband. We didn’t hurt anyone.”
“And as long as no one finds out how we feel about one another, nobody will be hurt,” he said, still not saying the words aloud. She was, after all, a grieving widow and he had lost his best friend. Nothing would alter those painful facts. He brushed his lips over her forehead, then merely held her close.
“I may have been increasingly unhappy but I never wanted Paul murdered.”
Frank clasped her wrist, brushing his thumb over the pulse point there. “I know.”
“I don’t want you taking the blame for this.”
“And I won’t. I already told you Molly’s lawyer friend, Daniel Hunter, is going to represent me. I’ll be fine.”
“He’s going to want your alibi,” Sonya said.
He clenched his jaw tight. “He already did and I told him I went out for a walk. I was alone.”
“But-”
“I…was…alone. End of discussion.” He knew Sonya well enough to know she’d respect his decision.
He wasn’t sure he could say the same for Hunter. He hoped the other man would put on a solid defense without digging too deep.
“The lawyer wants us to be up-front about…the abuse,” Frank said, gentling his voice. “I’m against it but he’s afraid the prosecution might somehow find out and use it against me. You know, as another motive for me to want to hurt Paul.”
He glanced at her face, expecting a stricken look.
Instead, she slowly nodded. “That makes sense.”
“But Seth-”
“He already knows. He couldn’t live in this house and not know his father had…issues with his temper. He’ll get through this just like we all will.” Sonja met his gaze with a determined one of her own.
She never failed to amaze him with her strength. He just wished she’d used that strength to leave her husband. Too late to think about that now, though.
He inclined his head. “Okay then, that’s settled.” Now to tell her about her husband’s affair. “Just one more thing.” He drew a fortifying breath because he knew this would be the most difficult of all.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s about Paul.”
She leaned closer to him. “Yes?”
“I had a visitor while I was in jail. Lydia McCarthy.”
Sonya sat up straighter. She adjusted her headband, then clasped her hands together in her lap. “What about her?”
“Paul and Lydia were involved.” He chose the most benign word he could find.
Sonya frowned. “Don’t try to make it sound all nice and refined. They were having an affair,” she spat out.
Frank rose to his feet. “You knew? ” And he hadn’t. Would wonders never cease?
“I lived with the man. Of course I knew. And frankly, I was relieved. Paul and I hadn’t had a marriage in a good long time. Not a real one, anyway. I stayed with him to keep our family together but I couldn’t stand his temper and…” She trailed off, glancing away. “I couldn’t stand for him to touch me that way.” She shuddered.
But when she met Frank’s gaze, sadness and guilt filled her beautiful eyes.
“Don’t,” he said in a gruff voice. “Don’t feel guilty for what happened to your marriage or to Paul.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “We’ll get through this.” He tried like hell to reassure her.
Even if there were times when he wondered how.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HUNTER AWOKE the next morning with a plan. As of now, the police had the general on motive, opportunity and lack of an alibi on the night of the murder, all damning evidence, but the authorities didn’t have a murder weapon to tie to his client. In Hunter’s mind, the case was purely circumstantial.
His next step was to create reasonable doubt that his client had killed Paul Markham by finding other people with equal motive. He had his office staff preparing to file a motion to dismiss the case for lack of evidence. Considering how slowly the justice system moved, Hunter had plenty of time to interview and find evidence in favor of Molly’s father.
He’d start by interviewing those closest to the general, including his own family, Sonya and her son, Seth, and Frank and Paul’s secretary, Lydia McCarthy. And he hoped to do these things alone, without Molly’s distracting company, or help, at least until he had a better handle on the facts and the players in the case. He knew she wanted to help him and he’d resigned himself to that fact, but he needed to get up to speed first.
“Chicken.”
Hunter swung his head toward the bird and scowled. “No, I just want to be on an even footing with her. Is that so much to ask?” The woman kept him off balance as it was, Hunter thought. Enough to have him talking to a bird.
He glanced at Ollie but the macaw didn’t reply.
Hunter pulled together some papers his office had faxed over and tossed them into the duffel bag he carried instead of a stuffy briefcase and headed out of the study. There had to be a library in town where he could sit down and concentrate without distraction.
First stop, though, would be the coffee machine in the kitchen. The commander brewed a different flavor every morning, changing coffee as frequently as her hair. This morning he’d glanced out the window to see her working in her garden. Her bright red hair had been drastically altered to a dark brown with a hint of what couldn’t be described as anything other than eggplant, a rich purple made more vibrant by the sun’s rays. He really enjoyed the woman and her sense of humor, which in many ways reminded him of Molly’s.
Once again, Molly was in his thoughts, tempting him. With a groan, he turned his attention to the delicious smell and tried to identify this morning’s brew. “Hazelnut?” he wondered aloud.
“French vanilla.” Molly caught up with him as he poured himself a cup.
“Want some?” he asked.
“No thanks. I already had a cup. Where are you off to this morning?”
He turned to see her eyeing the duffel bag he’d left on the table.
“I have a defense to prepare, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Her lips turned downward in a sad frown as they did every time she was reminded of her father’s situation.
Hunter wished he could reassure her, but he didn’t have enough ammunition on his side, at least not yet.