MILLICENT’S EYES WIDENED INCREDULOUSLY. “Preston is in jail? Locked up? Preston?”
“He killed Kane,” Bernhardt answered. “He killed him in cold blood. I saw him do it. And so did Farnsworth.”
They were standing in the entryway of the Daniels beach house, with the outside door closed behind them. The entryway was lighted by overhead mini-floodlights set in the ceiling. Standing in the cone of one of the floodlights, wearing a high-collared robe that swept the floor, her hair loose, hands clasped at her waist, face pale without makeup, Millicent could have been acting the part of a queen in a Shakespearean tragedy. Instead of speaking, Bernhardt stood silently, watching her as she stared past him. What were her thoughts? Would she stand by her husband, the source of enormous wealth? The trial would center on Daniels’s dead mistress. How much was Millicent’s pride worth to her? What was the market price?
Daniels’s ego was a known quantity.
What about Millicent’s ego?
Now, almost dreamily, she turned away. “Come in,” she said. “Sit down.”
“Thank you.” He followed her into a large, dramatically furnished living room that faced out on the ocean. The room was furnished around a huge slate-topped coffee table. They sat facing each other across the table. After a long moment, finally meeting his gaze, she said, “What happens now?” Her voice was dulled; her eyes shifted uncertainly.
“I can’t tell you exactly what’ll happen,” he answered. “He’ll get in touch with his lawyers, I’m sure of that. In a few hours, they’ll start coming down on Massachusetts’ law enforcement like a pack of lions. And his flacks, I’m sure, will come down on the media. Hard.”
Numbly, she nodded. She was staring down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. The muscles of her throat were cruelly corded. This, Bernhardt reflected, was not Millicent Daniels’s most flattering pose. Finally she began shaking her head.
“That’s the part I hate,” she said. “The reporters and photographers. The tabloids. It’s so—so tacky.”
Tacky? Was that where it ended, for Millicent Daniels? With her child dead, was tacky the ultimate judgment?
“If I were you, Mrs. Daniels, I’d hire a lawyer. I’d hire a good lawyer, and I’d follow his advice.”
“Yes …” Irresolutely, she nodded. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”
“I wouldn’t use any of your husband’s lawyers if I were you. You should get your own. Someone who’s only concerned with your best interests.”
“Yes …”
“I’d do that as soon as possible. I’m almost sure Daniels will be out on bail by this afternoon.”
Startled, she raised her head; her eyes came into sharp focus. “But—but this is murder. Is there bail, for murder?”
“I’m not a lawyer. But I believe the court’s free to grant bail whenever it wants. One consideration is whether the suspect is a flight risk. And, obviously, Daniels isn’t going to disappear. Besides, he’ll obviously try to make Kane the villain of the piece, so he’ll be posing as the perfect citizen. He’s going to say that Kane killed Carolyn. Then Kane killed Jeff Weston, he’ll say, to shut Weston up. He’ll also say that Kane tried to kill Diane and me, for the same reason. And, of course, he’ll say that he killed Kane to save my life. Which, in a sense, is true. Thank God.”
“Will they find the girl’s body, do you think?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a certainty. As I understand it, that landfill’s been bulldozed flat at least once since the murder. If she didn’t show up then, maybe she’ll never show up. Even Daniels probably couldn’t pick out the spot where she’s buried.”
“He’ll go free. If the body isn’t found, he’ll go free.” Her voice was a low, uninflected monotone, the voice of utter resignation, of utter defeat. She began to slowly shake her head. “He’ll be a hero. By the time his lawyers and his flacks get finished, all anyone will remember is that he saved your life. He’ll use you, just like he uses everyone else.”
“I don’t intend to let that happen.”
Her smile was grim. “You might not have a choice. Most people don’t, when they go against Preston.”
“Does that include you?”
She raised her eyes, studied his face—and made no reply.