Deadly Aim (9 page)

She bit her lip.
Not a smart move. It won’t do any good to antagonize the press
. “I’m sorry it happened. I was only doing my job.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to these people, Angel.” Brandon pressed closer to her and in a low voice added, “It might be better if you don’t say anything at all.”

He lifted his arm to protect her and pushed through the mob to his car, then opened the passenger side door and guided her inside. Relieved, she sank into the comfortable leather seats, strapping herself in. The press swarmed around the car like yellow jackets around a garbage can.

Brandon ducked into the car and shut his door. “I’m sorry, Angel. I saw them milling around when I came in, but I had no idea they were after you.” His jaw tightened as he maneuvered the car between what had to be twenty people. “If I’d known, I would’ve parked on the street and hustled you out the back.”

Angel bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking. “I should’ve realized they’d come after me as soon as they found out about the shooting.” She looked back. The press was already disbanding, getting into their cars and vans.

Brandon drove around until they were certain none of the vultures had followed them, then he headed for the restaurant. Once they’d been seated, handed menus, and ordered drinks, he leaned forward, arms on the cloth-covered table. “Want to tell me about it?”

“No.” She sighed. “But after all you’ve just been through, you deserve an answer.”

“Darn right. If I hadn’t been there to rescue you, they’d have picked your bones clean by now.”

Angel chuckled despite her sour mood. “I wouldn’t go that far. I could’ve handled them on my own. But thanks.” The lights had dimmed, and in the candle’s glow, Angel recounted the day’s events until the waiter came to take their order. They both ordered the salmon special with Caesar salads. When the waiter left, Brandon sat there a moment, staring at the flowers in the center of the table.

Angel felt a moment’s fear while she waited for his response. Would he tell her he couldn’t afford to be connected with her?

“Not that it’s any consolation,” he finally said, “but it sounds like you did the right thing.” He reached across the table to take her hand.

She relaxed. She should have known Brandon wouldn’t send her packing. His parents would, but Brandon wasn’t like them—most of the time. “I guess. I don’t know. I keep wondering if I reacted too quickly. I honestly thought he was going to fire his weapon.”

Not a weapon. A toy
. Angel rubbed her forehead, trying to ease away the beginnings of another headache. She took a sip of tea and lifted her gaze to Brandon’s. “Why would he do that? Earlier in the pharmacy he acted like he was going to give himself up, but maybe that was a ruse to get me to let my guard down so his buddies could have a clear shot at me.”

Brandon shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know, unless he forgot his gun wasn’t real.”

“How could he not know?”

“Got me. If he wasn’t so young, I might suspect that he wanted you to shoot him.”

“Suicide by cop?” Angel knew of several situations in which people had forced a confrontation with an officer, hoping they would be killed.

The waiter eyed her warily as he placed a bread basket on the table and refilled their water glasses. She was going to have to get used to those sidelong glances and wary looks. No matter where she went, people would wonder.

When their waiter left, Angel lifted the warm linen cloth lining the basket and withdrew a rosemary herb roll. “I’m in real trouble here, aren’t I? Even if I was following police procedure, the press is going to fry me.”

“Not necessarily. Most people are sympathetic with the police where known criminals are concerned. From what you’ve told me, the kid was a gang member.”

Angel didn’t see it that way. There was little or nothing right about what she’d done. “Brandon, if...” She set her bread on the plate and glanced down at her folded napkin.

“If?”

“The union is supposed to provide a lawyer, but I’m not sure I feel comfortable with someone I don’t know. If I need legal advice...”

Brandon reached for her hand. “I’ll be there for you. Count on it.”

She smiled. “I’m sorry to spoil our dinner with this stuff.”

“I wanted to hear about it.”

“Thanks.” She drew in a deep breath. “You know what I really want?”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to forget about Billy Dean Hartwell for now. Let’s have a nice dinner and talk about something totally unrelated.”

“Good idea.” Brandon tore his roll in half and slathered butter on it before taking a bite. “When we’re finished eating I have a surprise for you.” A mischievous grin lifted the corners of his mouth and lit up his eyes.

“Can you give me a hint?”

“Nope.”

The waiter brought their salads and refilled their water glasses again.

“So what do you want to talk about?” Brandon asked.

“You.”

Brandon talked briefly about his work, not going into much detail. Being the junior partner in the law firm, he got many of the cases his father and older brother, Carl, passed on. The business had been started by Brandon’s great-grandfather. Unlike most law firms, which either specialized in criminal law or corporate law, they covered all types of cases. Brandon handled a lot of bankruptcies and divorces but hoped some day to move into criminal cases.

“Have you heard about the Kelsey case?” Brandon asked.

“Who hasn’t? Are you representing her?” Michelle Kelsey was the primary suspect in her husband’s disappearance.

“Yeah.” His grin reminded Angel of a kid with a giant Snickers bar.

“I hope you get her off, Brandon. Scum like Jim Kelsey deserve what they get. I don’t blame her for killing him.”

“I’m not just going for an acquittal. Michelle says she didn’t do it, and I believe her.”

“You can’t be serious.” Angel reached for her glass of iced tea. “There were witnesses at the restaurant who said they’d been arguing. And she’d bought a gun a week before he disappeared.”

“All circumstantial evidence,” Brandon argued. “There’s no body, remember, and no way to prove he’s dead.”

“Her gun had been fired recently.” Angel tore her roll in quarters and set them aside.

“She says she’d used it for target practice.”

“Right—and she used her husband as the target.” Angel reported what she’d heard about the case secondhand. Though she knew the Kelseys, she hadn’t been involved with the investigation.

“She’s not a killer. She’s a victim.” Brandon’s hand pressed into a fist.

“Brandon, I’m on her side. I’ve seen her bruises more times than I care to remember. I must’ve been called out to
their place at least three times since I’ve been here, and she never pressed charges.”

“She wanted out, and he wouldn’t let her go.”

Angel nodded. “Which makes for a good motive. Michelle felt trapped and did the only thing she could to get out of it. Kelsey was the worst kind of abuser. He brainwashed her into believing he had a right to slap her around whenever he felt like it.”

Brandon frowned. “Yeah. The guy was a piece of work, but she didn’t kill him.”

“The evidence says otherwise.” Angel leaned back while the waiter took her salad plate and replaced it with the main course.

“The evidence doesn’t prove a thing,” Brandon insisted.

Angel sighed and waited for the waiter to leave, then leaned forward and met his intense gaze. “Has anyone ever told you that you’d make a great lawyer?”

He laughed. “I’m sorry. I feel strongly about this one.”

“You know what?” Angel straightened. “I hope I’m wrong. Go for it. This will be a high-profile case for you. Congratulations. How did you end up with it, anyway? This is the kind of thing your father would take or at least hand off to Carl.”

“Actually, Michelle—uh, Mrs. Kelsey was already my client. She’d come to me wanting to start divorce proceedings. So when her husband disappeared and she realized the police suspected her of killing him, she wanted to retain me as her lawyer.”

“Divorce? She came to you? No offense, but... you guys aren’t exactly cheap. I doubt her husband would have put out money for it.”

“You’ve got that right,” Brandon snorted. “And she has money. She’s been secretly putting it away for a few years now in her own account, for an emergency. She also came into some money through an inheritance—an aunt or something. She managed to keep it from her husband.”

“So Michelle was planning to get a divorce? Too bad Jim’s not around. I’d have liked to see the guy squirm.” She scooped up some garlic mashed potatoes on her fork. “On the other hand, maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t. He might’ve ended up killing her.”

She closed her eyes and let the warm potatoes linger on her tongue, enjoying the blend of butter, cream, and garlic. Maxwell’s made the best garlic mashed potatoes on the coast—except for her mother’s, of course.

They ate in silence for a while, and Angel savored every bite. Sometimes she wished she could cook, but that talent hadn’t been passed down from mother to daughter. Not that Ma hadn’t tried to teach her. Angel hadn’t wanted to learn any more about homemaking skills than she had to. She’d gotten by so far, but she cringed at the thought of being married and having to come up with meals on a daily basis. Brandon was accustomed to eating well. The family had a housekeeper and cook, and he still lived at home—something she couldn’t understand. Of course, she might not have minded either, if her parents had the Lafferty house, with its six thousand square feet of living space, plus a full-time maid, gardener, and chef. What would Brandon expect in a wife? Would he want them to live in his parents’ home? Could he afford domestic help? He’d have to if he married Angel.

She brushed the pesky thoughts aside. She had no intention of getting married to Brandon or anyone else for a very long time. Her life was too unsettled—and after today, even more so.

Angel concentrated on the food. The salmon was as delicious as it was beautiful. Grilled to melt-in-your-mouth perfection, then topped with a light blackberry sauce. The vegetables—beans, asparagus, broccoli, and carrots—had been grilled and served in a citrus marinade.

“How’s your family?” Brandon asked. “This dinner reminds me of something your mother would cook up. Her baked salmon is the best.”

Angel had to agree. “They’re the same as always. Dad talks about retiring, but I doubt he’ll leave until they kick him out. Ma is busy with church stuff. And she’s still volunteering with Meals on Wheels. Did I tell you that now she’s doing hospital visits as well? The woman never quits. She sews for Tim’s girls and knits and quilts. I don’t know where she finds the time to do it all.” Angel picked up her glass. “Do you know she
came by the house today, after...” The lump came back to clog her throat, and she fought a wave of tears.

“Angel...” Brandon’s face was wearing that helpless male look.

She excused herself to go to the rest room. By the time she had used the facilities and washed her hands, the tears were well under control. At least she hoped so. When she got back to the table, the busgirl was taking away their empty plates.

When the waiter came with the check, Brandon handed him a credit card. A few minutes later, they were walking out to the car. Angel had actually enjoyed dinner and was glad she’d decided to go. She’d managed to put the shooting out of her mind for a little while at least.

Instead of taking her to her apartment, Brandon headed north on Highway 101.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Angel closed her eyes and leaned back, thankful for any diversion that would keep her from dealing with Billy’s death.

W
hen they reached the outskirts of the city, Brandon made a right, taking them east along Vista View Terrace. The road meandered into the hills and through Sunset Cove’s most prestigious neighborhoods. From their vantage point, the bay looked like a huge bowl with openings at each end. To the west it narrowed and curved where it met the ocean. To the east the hills separated just enough to allow the Ilchee River access. They drove past a number of elegant homes perched on the hillside, overlooking the cove.

“We’re not going to your place, are we?” Angel asked. The last thing she wanted to do was face his parents.

He took hold of her hand. “You don’t have to worry about Mom and Dad. They wouldn’t let this kind of thing affect the way they feel about you.”

Probably not
, Angel mused. She’d never gotten the impression they cared that much about her anyway. Somehow she doubted they’d appreciate their son bringing home a...

Angel quickly turned her attention back to the road.

Brandon’s home, mansion actually, was located on Sunset Drive in an upscale housing development. Brandon answered her question by going past his street.

As they drove, Angel glimpsed some spectacular views of the bay and ocean between homes. Finally Brandon slowed and turned into Bayside Drive, which took them down the hill closer to the water. “I hope we’re not going to a party. I’m not in the mood.”