ETHAN TRASK SURVEYED the set of offices that would be his for the upcoming weeks and decided that they were beginning to shape up. Everyone involved with helping him to settle in had done their jobs efficiently and well. Desks were positioned, file cabinets provided, worktables set up. Even the secretary on loan from the local district attorney’s office was already hard at work, entering something into her computer. And in one corner, packed in several boxes, was the material he would need to make the state’s case against one Judson Thaddeus Ingalls. At present, he knew only the essentials. The seventy-eight-year-old man was accused of murdering his wife at their lakeside estate some forty-two years ago. The story circulated after the woman’s disappearance was that she had run away, probably with another man, leaving her husband to raise their young daughter. That falsehood had been widely believed until recently, when her remains had inconveniently turned up.
Ethan placed one of the boxes on the table nearest his desk and started to empty it. He would familiarize himself with the details of the case, first by going over the police reports and then by moving through all the other materials gathered for presentation to the grand jury. He dragged a chair over to the table and sat down.
He was beginning to work his way through the initial stack of reports when the man assigned to the case from the State Department of Justice came quietly into the room.
Carlos Varadero and Ethan had worked together several times before. Ethan liked the man, admired him for both his professional ability and his tenacity. Not much slipped by the keen eye of the Cuban. As an investigator, he was first-rate.
Carlos flashed a quick smile. “I have learned something that will interest you, my friend.”
Ethan pushed the papers away. “What?” he asked.
“This Amanda Baron, the woman who is to act as defense counsel for Judson Ingalls. She is his granddaughter. And...” The word was drawn out, then repeated for dramatic effect as Carlos brought another chair closer to the table. “And she is also the granddaughter of the deceased. There, what do you think of that? I had only to ask one or two questions. People here are interested in the trial. Many of them know Amanda Baron personally. A few know her family. More know of her family. They are very influential.”
Ethan already knew that the Ingalls family was influential in Tyler, and it didn’t surprise him that their influence carried beyond the small town’s border and into the county seat. The fact that he had been brought in as special prosecutor spoke volumes. What he hadn’t known was that Amanda Baron was one of them! “We have to get her off the case,” he stated curtly, his mouth tightening.
“That may be hard to do,” Carlos said.
“We still have to try. Her presence could prejudice the jury.” Ethan crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the public green surrounding the courthouse. He watched as people walked to and fro along the sidewalks. “No one should be above the reach of the law,” he said firmly. “No matter how wealthy, no matter how influential. Judson Ingalls thought he could get away with the murder of his wife, and if it hadn’t been for a quirk of fate, he might have managed it. I’m not going to let him make a mockery of this trial.”
For Ethan there was no other course. His whole life had been set along one path. It was as natural for him to separate right from wrong as it was to breathe. The pursuit of justice burned within him like a bright light, often setting him apart, forcing him to choose between what was expedient and what was just. It was a matter of pride for him that he had never backed away from a hard choice.
He turned from the window and lifted another box onto the table. “You might as well get started, too,” he said, pushing it toward his assistant.
Carlos’s brown eyes were amused. “I also heard that Amanda Baron is a very pretty, very determined woman. The people in the courthouse speak highly of her.”
Ethan paused. “Do you think that should make a difference to me?”
Carlos shrugged. “You are a man. You will notice.”
“I was sent here to do a job, Carlos.”
“Do you want me to find out more about her? I could go to Tyler tomorrow and talk to some of the people there.”
Ethan thought for a moment. “That might be a good idea. I’ll come along, too. Feel out the atmosphere of the place.”
Then he resettled in his chair and again started to sort through the material that would form his case. It was going to be a long evening.
* * *
AMANDA DIRECTED her aging MG into the wide driveway at the side of the Ingallses’ big house on Elm Street. From the collection of cars, she could see that Jeff was home, which meant Cece might be there, too, and that Liza was visiting, undoubtedly with Cliff and baby Maggie.
The elation Amanda had felt on the drive back to Tyler suddenly deserted her. Even with Professor Williams—Peter—offering advice, it would still be she who would have to face Ethan Trask. She might still make all kinds of mistakes, ask the wrong questions, let important points slip by.
She looked at the huge Victorian house, whose lights were striving to hold the night at bay. The family had been through so much this past year. From the moment the body was found, rumors had started to fly. Then rumor had turned to fact, when the remains had been identified as Margaret’s. From that point on, their lives had been one long nightmare. Sometimes it was hard to tell friend from foe. A few people wanted to see the Ingallses receive their comeuppance. Others remained steadfastly loyal, while still others swayed in the breeze of whatever public sentiment seemed dominant that day.
Instead of being torn apart, though, the family had grown closer—even Liza, who had once been estranged from them. They were united by the common belief that Judson Ingalls was innocent of the accusation made against him. And they looked to her to prove it.
Amanda shivered slightly in the freshening breeze, reacting to the awesome responsibility. But she soon set her shoulders, restored her confident smile and made her way into the great house that had sheltered members of her family for well over a hundred years.
Voices from the living room drew her to that section of the house. No one noticed her at first, so she had a moment to survey the scene. Her sister, Liza, sat on the floor, her long, lanky frame leaning back against her husband, Cliff Forrester. Cliff, relaxed in a wing chair, quietly combed a lock of Liza’s rebellious blond hair with his fingers and listened intently as she spoke. The girls’ older brother, Jeff, and his fiancée, Cece Scanlon, sat on the couch. Both looked rather exhausted from their respective work shifts at the hospital and the nursing care facility at Worthington House, not to mention the additional time each spent at the free clinic Jeff had set up in one of the empty office suites at Ingalls Farm and Machinery. For them to be off duty at the same time was unusual, as was the fact that they had chosen to spend their spare time with the family instead of away somewhere on their own. Alyssa, the Baron siblings’ mother, sat in another wing chair holding little Maggie. The worried strain that had become so much a part of her beautiful features was softened by the love she felt for her first grandchild. With strands of her fine golden hair falling gracefully over her cheeks, she played with the newborn infant’s tiny hand. Judson, the white-haired patriarch of the family, stood with his back to the bay window, his posture ramrod straight. He was the first to acknowledge Amanda’s presence.
“Amanda,” he said when Liza, too, noticed her and abruptly stopped talking. “I saw you drive up, but it took awhile for you to come inside. Are you having more trouble with your car?”
Amanda’s car was the joke of the family. As it grew older, it seemed to break down almost as frequently as it ran. Still, she loved it. It had been a sixteenth-birthday present from her father, and that above all made it special to her. She smiled. “Amazingly, it’s running beautifully.”
“You must have placed Carl on a retainer fee,” Liza teased. “I heard he closed his garage for two weeks this summer and went to Hawaii. Did you single-handedly subsidize his vacation?”
“No,”