He was still nervous as a kid facing a dentist with a drill. He surreptitiously wiped his palms on his pants.
Today’s gathering was a routine weekly staff meeting. Lead investigators gave updates on cases they were working, and everyone brainstormed through any roadblocks and used each other as a sounding board. The creativity and passion gathered in this one room was mind-boggling. But his new colleagues went out of their way to make Eric feel at home. He even made a couple of contributions, discovering that he could recall his criminal-law classes. No one laughed or rolled their eyes. Maybe he’d do okay here.
He had to do more than survive. He had to keep this job until he found something else. MacKenzie needed him—not just his emotional support but his financial sustenance. She was seeing the best child psychologist in Houston on a weekly basis, and the therapy didn’t come cheap. Then there was the private school, the karate lessons. None of these would make up for the fact that she’d witnessed her mother’s bloody murder. But he was determined to give her the best of everything.
The last few minutes of the meeting were devoted to going over new cases, which Daniel assigned to his senior people based on interest, expertise and availability.
“The last case I want to talk about is an interesting one,” Daniel said. “This man was convicted seven years ago of rape and attempted murder. The crime was believed to be connected to a string of murders. The victim, Philomene Switzer, was the only one to survive.
“The man was convicted based solely on the victim’s testimony. There was no DNA, no fingerprints, just one very credible and sympathetic witness. However, that witness recently recanted.”
“Sounds like a slam dunk,” said Ford Hyatt, a former cop who had been with Project Justice since the beginning.
“Not so fast,” Daniel replied. “The victim confided in a friend, but she refuses to go on the record. So whoever takes this case has some work ahead of them. Who among you is feeling persuasive? Oh, here’s our man, by the way. His name is Kelly Ralston.”
Eric’s head snapped up. My God. A prison ID photo of a man scowled at them from the video screen. It was him. Ralston. Eric brought a reflexive hand to his chest and rubbed it over his dress shirt.
“You think that man’s innocent?” Eric blurted out.
Everyone in the room turned their heads in unison to stare at him.
“Everyone looks bad in their prison ID photo,” said Jillian Baxter-Blake, the foundation’s newest investigator, a young, stylish blonde with a deceptively innocent look and a sharp intellect. “I’m sure yours didn’t make you look like a movie star.”
“Jillian!” Daniel glared at her.
“No, it’s okay,” Eric said quickly. “No offense taken. I didn’t mean to imply Ralston must be guilty because he looks like a bad guy. The truth is, I know him. We were housed in the same cellblock at Huntsville. And there’s no way that guy should be let loose on an unsuspecting public. He’s...he’s a monster.”
“A monster?” Daniel sounded dubious.
Eric realized this group of seasoned professionals, obviously very good at what they did, weren’t simply going to take his word for it. He was the outsider here. They didn’t know him and had no reason to trust him. They were going to take some convincing.
“He tried to kill me. He cut me.”
Silence. Then Daniel broke the quiet. “Eric, as I’m sure you know, prison doesn’t bring out the best in anyone. People do things when they’re locked up that they would never do as free citizens. Here at Project Justice, we concern ourselves solely with the crime for which the client was convicted.”
“That’s just it. Ralston isn’t innocent.” Though the room was cool, Eric’s forehead broke out in a sweat. “He raped that woman and tried to kill her. He killed other women, too. He used to brag about his crimes in the most bloodcurdling detail. He cut them up, right? Lots of stab wounds? That was the part that turned him on.” He paused, forcing himself to slow his breathing and lower the timbre of his voice, then looking at first one, then another of his coworkers. “Do you want me to go on?”
“Obviously this changes things,” Daniel said. “If you’re sure he’s guilty—”
“I’m positive.” Except that he wasn’t. In truth, he’d never heard Kelly Ralston say word one about the crimes he’d committed. Eric had just told the biggest lie of his life.
“Then I guess we’ll deep-six this one. Unfortunately, I told our applicant that we were taking on her case. Someone has to tell her we’re not going to help get her boyfriend out of prison.”
Kelly Ralston had a girlfriend? That was hard to picture.
“I think the best man for that job is you, Eric.”
“Me?” He’d thought his job was all about filing papers with the court. No one said anything about meeting with the deluded girlfriends of scumbag serial rapist-murderers. He was still reeling from just the sight of Ralston’s face on a screen. How was he supposed to now greet that man’s girlfriend with any sort of professionalism?
“Frankly, I don’t think this woman would believe me if I repeated your words,” Daniel said. “I think she needs to hear it from you. And she’ll be in the lobby in about ten minutes.”
Eric was stunned to numbness. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He’d lied, straight-faced, to the man partly responsible for giving him his life back. Kelly Ralston was going to stay buried in Huntsville, and Eric was responsible for that, too.
Prison is where Ralston belongs. The man was a dangerous psychopath. Kelly Ralston had said that if he ever got free, he would find Eric and slit his throat. Even worse, he’d threatened MacKenzie, a six-year-old girl who was the picture of innocence.
MacKenzie had been the victim of enough crime in her young life. She might never recover from the trauma of losing her mother in such a violent manner; she still had nightmares about blood. Eric would do whatever it took to protect her.
Even lying.
After reminding everyone that the building would be fumigated on Thursday and everyone should plan to take the day off, Daniel disconnected.
Eric dragged his feet on the way down to the lobby, opting for the stairs because he didn’t want to talk to anyone about his outburst. Helluva way to start the second day of a new job.
The marble-floored reception area was deserted except for Celeste Boggs, the foundation’s office manager, receptionist and self-proclaimed head of security. As far as Eric knew, her actual job responsibilities had nothing to do with security, other than keeping undesirable visitors from gaining access to the rest of the building from the lobby.
But she was pretty scary. In her seventies, she was the antithesis of a sweet little old lady.
“Mr. Riggs,” she greeted him without the hint of a smile on her blood-red lips. “Leaving so soon? You haven’t even had time to warm up your office chair or fill out forms for the personnel office.”
“Actually, I’m looking for someone. A woman named Brianna Johnson has an appointment—”
“At ten, yes, I know. She’s not here yet. I can call you when she arrives.”
“Okay. I’ll just...be in my office.” He could start setting up a filing system or...count paper clips or maybe prepare a resignation letter. So far breaking the bad news to Ralston’s girlfriend was the only thing anyone had asked him to do.
He turned and had almost made it through the frosted-glass wall that separated the lobby from the rest of the building when he heard the front door open. He turned—and froze. The woman who walked through that door was mind-bogglingly beautiful. She had creamy white skin, black hair and deep blue eyes—he could see the color even from a distance. She reminded him of a young Elizabeth Taylor, except in