He shook his head as if he hadn’t been worried. “Figured I’d keep the motel guests safe from you. You’re not always the best marksman.”
“I hit the target when it counts.”
“Eventually.”
Feeling heat rise in her cheeks under his gaze, she glanced toward her brother who escorted a frowning Amber toward the squad car.
“I told you my story,” Amber said, twisting to look up at him.
“You can tell us again at the station,” Rick said.
“Am I being arrested?” she asked.
“Questioned.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I want an attorney.”
“Why?” Jake asked, approaching. “You’re not being detained, just questioned.”
She swiped a strand of blond hair from her eyes. “I remember how it went the last time. I want an attorney.”
“I haven’t arrested you.”
She shook her head as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. “I don’t care. I’m not saying a word without an attorney.”
“You have one you can call?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Rachel Wainwright.”
Jake’s head cocked. “The wife of the chief of homicide?”
“She’s a defense attorney. One of the best and she takes on people who can’t pay.”
“You’ve done some homework.”
She swiped away a tear, her gaze chilling. “I wasn’t coming back to this town ill prepared.”
Amber had invoked her right to counsel and there was little Jake could do but call Rachel Wainwright.
* * *
Defense attorney Rachel Wainwright arrived at the Nashville Homicide Department an hour later. Her low heels clicked on the tile floor as her long legs made up the distance under the glow of a fluorescent light. She received the call from Detective Jake Bishop that a woman he was holding for questioning was refusing to answer questions without an attorney present. She quickly ran a comb through her short dark hair and changed into dark slacks and a black V-neck sweater.
She didn’t like approaching a case cold but she’d get up to speed quickly. She picked up a visitor badge at the front desk and made her way to a double mirror that looked into a holding room where Jake Bishop and Rick Morgan sat opposite a slender blonde, who could only be described as angelic. Whereas the lighting made most look sallow, her skin glowed a faint pink. She wasn’t handcuffed. Sitting in front of her was a half-eaten sandwich and a can of diet soda. She’d not lived in Nashville when Amber Ryder had found herself in trouble five years ago and could only imagine the fear running through a teenaged girl’s mind when confronted with questions from an army of cops and reporters.
Rachel knocked on the door, then opened it. Jake and Rick stood.
Jake politely nodded. “Rachel, thanks for coming.”
She acknowledged Jake and Rick, but shifted her attention to the blonde. “Amber Ryder?”
The pale woman rose. “That’s right.”
“I’m Rachel Wainwright. I understand you need an attorney?”
She looked up with blue eyes as pale as a clear lake. “Yes. Thank you so much for coming.”
Rachel liked and respected Jake and Rick, but she was here as a defense attorney and not as a friend of the family. “Gentlemen, if you will give me some privacy with my client.”
Jake glanced at Amber, who stared up at him with wide, worried eyes.
Amber shook her head. “They can stay. I’ve nothing to hide, but I want an attorney present. You’ve heard about my past with the law.”
“Bits and pieces,” Rachel said. Most of what she heard had been from her husband, Deke Morgan. And as much as she loved that man, he was a cop first and she often did not completely share his view of the police.
Jake’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen before frowning. “It’s the hospital. Would you excuse me?”
“Sure,” Rachel said. He ducked out of the room.
Rachel motioned for Amber to sit and she took the chair across from her. “Is there anything you need?”
Amber tugged at the hem of her sleeve. “I want to see Mrs. Reed. She’ll be worried about me.”
Rachel looked up at Rick. “Detective?”
His stance stiffened just a fraction. “I can call her.”
Amber flexed her fingers. “I don’t want her to hear my story from a cop. I want her to hear it from me. She needs to see me and know I’m innocent.”
“Why not your mother?” Rick asked.
Amber looked at Rachel with watery eyes. “My mother can’t help. Is it so unreasonable for me to see Mrs. Reed?”
Rachel tapped short plain fingernails on the table. “Detective? It’s not an unreasonable request.”
Rick frowned, but before he could answer, the door opened to a scowling Jake.
“That was the hospital,” Jake said.
“How is Tim?” Amber asked.
“Still alive,” Jake said. “A miracle, considering the injuries, but he’s in surgery right now.”
“So he’s going to live?” Amber’s tentative smile beamed hope and worry.
Jake slid his hands into his pockets. “Docs say he’s a tough guy. It could go either way.”
She lowered her face to her hands. A sigh shuddered through her before she looked up, eyes red-rimmed and tearing. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Rachel pulled out a legal pad and pen. “Detectives, I need a moment with my client.”
“Sure,” Jake said.
When the door closed behind them, Rachel looked at Amber. “Tell me what happened.” Amber recounted her story, starting with Tim calling and asking her to meet him at the motel.
The story was tight. Made sense.
Rachel had defended her share of the guilty. She never judged, believing in every person’s right to a fair trial. Some of her guilty clients had been bad liars. Some had been very skilled. Over the last few years she had developed a knack for ferreting them out. She needed to know fast where she stood with a client’s defense. Every citizen in Nashville would be following this case.
But with Amber, she couldn’t get a read. Everything about the woman spoke of truth. The mannerisms. The inflection in her voice. Even the way she looked at Rachel as she spoke. All signs of telling
the truth.
But a very small twist in her gut belied the body language and the words. The woman could be hiding something, but that didn’t mean she had intended to shoot Tim. Hiding one secret didn’t mean she was guilty of another. She couldn’t pinpoint what Amber held back, but there was something. The trick now was to figure out what her client was hiding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Friday, October 13, 12:30 A.M
Georgia accepted a cup of coffee from Jake as the two stood outside the interview room while Rachel talked to Amber. “Have you been able to get ahold of Mrs. Reed?”
“No,” Jake said. “She’s not answering her cell and she’s not at her home. Which does not make sense given the time. We’re looking for her.”
She dug her fingernail into the side of the Styrofoam. “Do you think Amber knew she was Marlowe’s kid when they slept together?”
“Says a lot about her if she did.” Jake shook his head. “No wonder the guy looked like he could jump out of his skin when he was close to her.”
She glanced into her cup. “So how bad is Tim?”
“Pretty bad,” he said sipping his coffee.
“On a scale of one to ten.”
“Ten being dead?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He stared over the brim of his cup. “He’s a ten.”
“What?” A frown furrowed her brow. “How long have you known?”
“He died at the scene. The IV and the ambulance were all theater. I didn’t tell you because you had to buy into it completely so I could sell it to Amber.”
There had never been any hint of Jake’s deception until this moment. “So you just basically told a huge fat lie.”
He grimaced as if she’d insulted him. “A little white lie in my book. And when it’s a homicide investigation, all bets are off.”
She glanced toward her brother who looked perfectly content as he read a text on his phone. “Rick, did you know?” she asked
Without glancing up, he typed a message. “Pleading the Fifth.”
“Damn it.” She punched her brother in the arm. “What are you two trying to accomplish?”
“If Amber shot Tim in self-defense as she said, then she’ll continue to be glad he’s alive,” Jake said. “All her lying and the reports of promiscuity could be a result of her relationship with Dalton.