“I hear you took a suicidal teen mountain climbing,” Collier said.
“We climbed the side of a ridge at a camp.” And she’d been scared half out of her wits.
“You also ran a marathon?”
“A half one.” With a woman who couldn’t stand still for fear her father’s sexual abuse would catch up with her.
For another client too afraid of public speaking to make a simple speech in his own boardroom, Maria had listened to late-night rehearsals on the phone until her ear was as cauliflowerlike as the most inept boxer’s.
She’d cooked meals and walked labyrinths and finally gone to the police when Griff Butler had refused to retract the confession she still doubted.
“You know how to make people comfortable. You make them trust you.”
She eyed him but said nothing.
“And you used what Griff Butler said in this notebook to make him your—”
She planted both business-casual heels on the floor. This man would not make her look incapable, even to save a kid she cared for. “I don’t know what he wrote.”
“Open it,” Buck said. “Read the pages you shared with my client at each meeting—including the ones outside your office.”
“I’ve never met Griff outside my office, Mr. Collier.”
“You’re formal with me, Dr. Keaton.” He made her title an insult. “But you dropped the decorum with Griffy, didn’t you?”
She let herself smile. The prototypical Southern lawyer had made an error. “Griff claims I called him that?” Insecurity plagued the boy. He’d feared that no one, not even his own mother and father, had loved him.
“Open the book, Dr. Keaton.”
She stared at Buck, pretending his peremptory tone amused her.
“Objection,” Gil said. “The defense is harassing Dr. Keaton. She has sworn under oath several times that she never read these pages. How can they be relevant?”
Jake’s exaggerated stillness was a warning. His bland expression suggested he’d expected Gil to come up with something more effective, which troubled Maria. At last, Jake looked at the defense. “Get to the point, Mr. Collier. Skip the commentary.”
“Did you have an affair with my underage client, Dr. Keaton?”
It hurt. Against her will, she glanced at Griff, who stared at nothing.
“Answer me, Dr. Keaton. Don’t look at that boy.”
“I did not have an affair with Griff. I wanted him to be well. I’m his psychologist. Nothing more.”
“You were his so-called therapist. After you broke doctor-client privilege, I believe his aunt fired you?”
His aunt was the only one left to fire her after his parents died. “Griff, you know why I told the police what you said.”
Jake’s seat came upright with a scream of springs. “Dr. Keaton, you will not—”
Buck pointed a vindictive finger. “You can’t control this boy now that he’s come to his senses. He understands you abused him.”
“Your Honor.” Gil went off like a rocket.
Maria turned to the jury, Griff’s last hope. He needed treatment, and they held the power. But Buck had come up with the perfect offensive defense. If the jury thought she’d seduced a kid in her care, they could set a possibly murderous boy free on their own unsuspecting community, on his younger cousins and their parents.
“I never hurt Griff. He and I discussed only the problems that brought him to my office, and none of those problems included an inappropriate relationship between us. I care about this boy as I care about all my clients, but I did not sleep with him.”
Jake banged his gavel once. “Dr. Keaton, Collier, Daley, this remains my courtroom, and you’re all perilously close to contempt.”
“I’m sorry.” She turned to him. His black gaze was a wall that bounced her back. “No one seems to realize what’s at stake for that kid.”
“You were telling us how deeply you care for my client, Dr. Keaton.” Collier leaped on her apparent weakness. “Enough to ruin his future after he rejected your sexual advances?”
Jake turned in his chair, silent, menacing. Behind Maria, the jury rustled like debris swept up in a tornado.
“Stop, Mr. Collier, or I’ll walk you to a cell myself.” Jake’s voice seemed to shatter Collier’s bloated confidence. “Bailiff, take the jury out.”
The men and women stepped on each other’s heels, trying to size up Maria. She glanced at Jake. His thoughts were as plain as Buck’s. Griff’s defense had already created at least one instance of reasonable doubt.
She turned to stare after the jury. Would her word be enough for them? What would happen to the rest of her clients when word of Griff and Buck’s story got out? She was no martyr. What would happen to her and her practice? Her future?
The soft thud of Jake’s fist dropping onto his desk made Maria jump, but she couldn’t look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to think the worst of her.
For two years she’d been trying to make this small town her home, ignoring speculative looks from new neighbors who were reluctant to accept someone they considered unconventional. But she’d had compassion on her side. Over time, she’d helped enough loved ones to be allowed her place in Honesty, and she’d grabbed it with both hands and all her heart.
And then her heart had drawn her toward Jake Sloane. After the party, she’d remembered only him, exuding power borne of his comfort in his own desirable skin.
They’d met many times. She’d sneaked glances at him as they’d worked together on food lines and discussed changes on the Friends of the Library board. She’d cleaned litter on the edges of town with a group that included him. But before any relationship could develop, he’d become off-limits.
One morning, his daughter Leila had made an appointment with Maria. During her sessions Leila had revealed arms and thighs scarred from the cutting she’d started after her parents’ acrimonious divorce.
Leila didn’t want her father to know she needed help. According to her, he thrived in his own detached world, and he didn’t care to be disturbed. She swore her father was so neutral he’d try to argue both sides of sin at the pearly gates. A bad quality in a father, but it guaranteed he’d run an objective courtroom.
Maria might have kept her distance from her patient’s father like a good little psychologist, but she sure as hell didn’t want Jake Sloane, the man she’d wanted from across many rooms, to think she’d seduce a kid who depended on her.
“Buck,” the judge said, “I don’t want any more of your opinions. If you have a theory with merit, share that, but no more innuendo.”
“Your Honor, I’m allowed—”
Jake held up his hand. “To argue an alternative theory, which you are not doing. You’re not suggesting Dr. Keaton murdered the Butlers?”
“No, sir,” Buck spluttered.
“You’re not allowed to slander a witness. Stop testifying for your client. If he has something to tell the court about Dr. Keaton, the jury wants to hear it from him.” Next, he turned to the prosecutor. “Mr. Daley, we’ll take a brief recess so you can instruct your witness on protocol, and so she can regain her composure. All of you, remember why you’re here, or you’ll be giving me your excuses from jail.”
Jake rose, impossibly tall, his face as harsh and fine as a sculpture. His long, capable fingers grazed the desk, just inches from Maria.
Her