Wednesday, September 29, 8:30 PM
3rd Avenue, downtown Birmingham
Carson closed the case file and leaned back in his chair.
Man, he was tired.
His first week in his new law office and he’d put in more than eighty hours.
He surveyed the small office with its view of the alley. There was an even smaller lobby fronting his office with scarcely enough space for a secretary’s desk. It wasn’t like his former home in the Criminal Justice Center, but it was where he wanted to be.
The offer to take over as acting district attorney had been on the table after Wainwright’s arrest, but Carson hadn’t been interested. He’d decided he didn’t care for the political side of that position.
This was what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Work for the people. Champion the little guy. Already he had a sizable client list. There would be no lack of cases.
He doubted he’d be making the papers or the news again anytime soon—but that was okay, too. He’d had enough of the spotlight to last him a lifetime. The first week after the story broke on Wainwright and his cronies, Carson had been inundated with interview requests and even a small cluster of paparazzi.
Justice had been served. He was finally at peace with the past. Stokes was still serving a life sentence. Wainwright
had been arraigned and was awaiting trial. Lynch had turned state’s evidence, narrowly dodging first-degree murder charges for his part in this nightmare. Lynch had come up with the idea of making the Tanner murders resemble those of a then-active serial killer—who turned out to be Stokes. Wainwright, Drake, and Holderfield had all cooperated. There was still some discrepancy as to whether Lynch had killed Dwight Holderfield, or Wainwright had. Each insisted the other had done it. According to Wainwright, Fleming had given Daniel Ledger, Annette’s assistant, the order to terminate both Annette and Carson. Ledger hadn’t worked up the wherewithal to do anything more than utilize scare tactics, though he had murdered Jazel Ramirez. Seemed he’d harbored some loyalty to Annette after all.
Carson still found it incredible that the people he had known and trusted could commit such horrific crimes against his family and him—people who they supposedly cared about.
Holderfield, Patricia, and the senator were dead already, so they had gotten theirs. As had Dane, though his had been undeserving to a large extent. Carson had concluded that his uncle had witnessed some part of the horror and that the people who had used his property to access the Tanner home the night of the murders were likely the they he so often spoke of during his episodes.
Carson would never in a million years have believed Patricia Drake capable of that kind of violence. All to ensure that her beloved daughter wasn’t treated for her own mental illness and that she got what she wanted—Carson. Patricia had been one sick bitch who hadn’t received the appropriate treatment for her multifaceted disorder. According to the experts she had likely suffered from borderline personality disorder with a hefty dose of narcissism and paranoia thrown in.
Carson couldn’t help feeling some amount of guilt. If he hadn’t foolishly fallen in love with Elizabeth, maybe his family would still be alive.
He couldn’t change that now. He’d had no idea there were issues back then. In his mother’s attempt to help Elizabeth while protecting Carson, she had sentenced herself and those she loved to death. But she hadn’t known the full extent of what she was up against: a twisted daughter with a psychopath for a mother. Elizabeth was undergoing psychiatric evaluation to determine her fitness for trial. Unfortunately she had indeed inherited some degree of her mother’s mental illness.
And all that time Carson had worried about his genes.
Annette was cooperating with the FBI, and Otis Fleming was going down. The old bastard had been denied bail since he was considered a flight risk. The whole city was enthralled with the evolving events around the case.
Agent Schaffer had been offered a position at Quantico, a promotion. She hadn’t decided yet if she would accept the offer. Something about not wanting to move her son from his friends.
Carson stood and stretched. He was exhausted, but it felt good. For the first time in his adult life he didn’t have a cloud hanging over his head.
He had found the truth.
Strangely enough, he owed that accomplishment to a woman who had operated outside the law for most of her life.
A smile slid across his face. Her past had been put to rest as well.
The bell jingled, indicating someone had entered his office. He frowned. Hadn’t he locked the door at six?
Carson rounded his desk just in time to run into Annette at the door between his office and the lobby.
“You should learn to lock up after hours, counselor.” She leaned against the door frame. “A guy could get mugged or … worse.”
His gaze roamed from those beautiful eyes and those lush lips all the way down to the sleek black stilettos. The short black dress in between showcased slender curves and toned legs. He wet his lips, could taste her already.
“How was your visit with Paula?” Annette had called at six to let him know she planned to see her sister. He’d opted to work late instead of going home alone.
“Good” Annette straightened from the door and moved toward him, forcing him to back up. “Very good. Did you get a lot done?” She glanced at the mass of folders and notes on his desk.
“I did.”
“Excellent.” She grabbed him by the tie and pulled his face down to hers. “Because I’m going to take you home and fuck your brains out.”
He tugged at a strand of her hair. “What’s wrong with right here?”
She smiled. “Not a damned thing, counselor.” She wrenched open his belt and then his fly before pushing him back onto his desk and scaling his body. “Not one damned thing.”
His hands molded to her thighs, pushed the dress up to her waist. A rush of need seared through him when his palms encountered her bare ass.
She took him inside her. He pulled her face down to his and kissed her Long and deep.
They made love—fucked as she preferred to call it—every chance they got. For a woman who hadn’t cared for sex not so long ago, she loved the hell out of it now.
This thing between them could go anywhere or nowhere but the ride … he groaned as she squeezed him hard … was all that mattered for now.