Truly Married (6 page)

“Sorry, lady,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Is it... Is it always this noisy in here?” Her voice shook with the fright he’d given her.

He grinned. “This is tame,” he said. “Wait a few more hours, when the druggies start coming down off their highs. That’s when it gets rowdy.”

She groaned, but he continued talking.

“You are Sharon Sawyer, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Come with me,” he said. “Your lawyer’s here and wants to talk to you.”

Ray Quinlan? What was he doing here in the middle of the night? She’d talked to him twice earlier, during the first interview and again at the hearing to set bail, which had been denied.

Still, she wasn’t going to argue. She’d do anything to get out of this place, even if only for a few minutes.

* * *

In one of the private rooms where attorneys conferred with their clients Fergus paced restlessly as he waited for Sharon to be brought to him.

Brought to him.
She’d hate that phrase. The last time he’d seen her she’d been coolly polite, but had let him know that she wanted absolutely nothing from him. Not his love, not his money, not even the community property she was entitled to, although her lawyer had finally insisted that she accept what the law mandated.

Not that he could blame her. He’d not only hurt her badly, but had shattered her trust and respect for him. He couldn’t expect her to understand how he could still love and want her when he’d admitted that he had strong feelings for Elaine, too.

His short marriage to Sharon had been a turbulent one. She’d been young and immature, and she’d accused him of being too bossy and overbearing. She was probably right, but he hadn’t been able to stand by and let her make obvious mistakes that he could prevent because of his more mature outlook.

They’d always seemed to be either quarreling or making love. There’d been no real depth to their union, and he’d worked closely with Elaine during that time. She’d been so levelheaded and easy to please. Such a pleasure to work with. The exact opposite of Sharon.

It had been a potentially dangerous situation, but he hadn’t realized it until it was too late. When their lives had been unalterably changed.

That had been five years ago, and he hadn’t seen or heard from her since, although he’d kept track of her through mutual friends. He’d known of the important changes in her life since then as soon as they happened: when she moved to St. Louis, when she took the position with the hotel, when she was promoted to assistant manager, but if she was involved with another man no one was willing to tell him.

It was just as well.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he whirled around to face it as it opened. A uniformed guard entered leading a young woman dressed in regulation jail coveralls.

Sharon! He’d know her anywhere, but the fear and anguish that were clearly visible in her expression and demeanor was almost more than he could bear. The long brown hair that he used to love to run his fingers through had been cut to just above her shoulders, and wispy bangs teased her forehead. Even in its disheveled state it was becoming, but her beautiful face was pale and pinched, and the despair that looked out of her deep blue eyes made him long to do something, anything, to make it go away.

Although he’d been studying her, she hadn’t yet noticed him. Her gaze was cast downward, and she seemed to be in a state bordering on shock.

Before he could thaw his frozen vocal cords and say something, the guard spoke.

“Here’s your client, Mr. Lachlan.”

“Lachlan?” Sharon’s head snapped up and her gaze locked with his.

“Fergus!”

It was a cry of shocked disbelief. He watched the blood drain from her face as she wavered, then staggered. Closing the distance between them in two strides, he caught her in his arms before she could fall.

“Bring me a glass of water,” he ordered the guard as he wrapped her in his embrace and cradled her against him.

She was trembling violently, and he silently cursed himself for an unthinking fool. When he’d called her friend Anna from the airport as soon as he’d landed in St. Louis he should have asked her to meet him here and let her prepare Sharon for this.

The problem was that he was still thinking like a distraught husband instead of a coolly analytical attorney.

But, dammit, he
was
a distraught husband. Or at least ex-husband. How could he help her if all he could think to do was carry her off somewhere private where he could comfort her, take care of her, protect her.

A sob shook her slender frame. “Oh, Fergus, I didn’t kill Floyd. Get me out of here!” she wailed against his chest just before a series of smaller sobs broke through her tenuous control and she cried in his arms.

He lowered his head and rubbed his face in her soft thick hair as he gently caressed her back. “I will, sweetheart,” he murmured. “With God as my witness I won’t let you down again.”

The guard came back with a glass of water, and Fergus half led, half carried Sharon to the table in the middle of the small room and sat her in one of the straight-backed chairs. “Lean down and rest your head on your knees for a few minutes,” he told her. “It should make the dizziness go away.”

Sharon did as he said. The shock of seeing him had left her too confused and disoriented to think for herself. But what was he doing here? How had he known she was in trouble?

“Feeling a little less rocky now?”

He’d asked the question close to her ear, and she realized that he was hunkered down beside her. The sound of his familiar voice was like a dream. Something she’d never expected to hear again.

“Yes,” she answered, and sat back up.

He put the glass of water in her shaking hands and helped her hold it. “Here, take a few swallows of this,” he said, and guided the glass to her mouth.

As she sipped the water his face was on a level with hers. He’d changed very little. He still parted his dark-brown hair on the left side, and he still had the shadow of a heavy beard on his handsome face, even though he was clean-shaven.

But he looked tired. There were dark smudges under his green eyes, and he was pale and drawn. She saw the anxiety in his expression that she’d also heard in his voice.

Anxiety for her? How like Fergus. Although they’d been divorced for years, he still felt responsible for her. Right now she was grateful for that, even though she’d hate it later. She wasn’t functioning well at all in this crisis.

She hiccuped and swiped at the tears that continued to cascade down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said on a sob. “I don’t mean to be such a crybaby, but I...I can’t go back to that cell. It’s like a nightmare—”

Another sob cut her off, and Fergus handed her a handkerchief. “I know,” he said softly, “and I’m going to do something about that right now. That is, if you’re willing to retain me as your attorney.”

Sharon felt the panic rising again. “But I already have an attorney. I can’t afford both of you.”

Fergus winced, and a brief flash of pain flitted across his face. “We’ll work something out, Sharon,” he said brusquely, “but if you want me to represent you you’d better give me a couple of dollars to make it legal.”

“I...I don’t have my purse. I don’t think I even brought it to jail with me.”

How ironic. If she hadn’t gone back to Floyd’s office to retrieve that purse she wouldn’t have been anywhere near there when his body was found, and now, after all the trouble it had caused, she still didn’t have it.

Fergus stood and reached for his billfold. He took a five-dollar bill out and handed it to her. “Here,” he said. “I’m loaning this to you. Now, give it back to me.”

Without fully comprehending what she was doing, Sharon held it out to him. “I’ll pay you back,” she promised, “but what about Ray Quinlan?”

“I talked to Ray on the phone, and he’s agreed to be co-counsel with me. I’ll need him to file papers, et cetera, since I’m not licensed to practice in the state of Missouri, so there’s no problem.”

Sharon’s mind was too muddled to sort it out, but if Fergus said it was all right, then it was. She’d go over it with him again later when she wasn’t so frightened and confused.

He reached out his hand to her. “Now,” he said, “if you feel up to it, let’s go see about getting you released so I can take you home.”

She’d never heard sweeter words in her entire life.

* * *

Night court was a dreary place. Most of the prisoners were pretty unsavory types—drug pushers, drunks, muggers and the like—but Sharon considered it a haven compared with the jail. Especially with Fergus at her side, exuding confidence and determination.

When it was his turn to plead her case he stood. “Your Honor,” he said respectfully, “I’m acting as co-counsel with Raymond Quinlan in the defense of Sharon Sawyer. I understand that Ms. Sawyer was denied bail earlier tonight, but I just arrived from Chicago and would like to plead on her behalf.”

The judge looked annoyed. “Mr. Lachlan, I’m well aware of your reputation, but since the issue of bail has already been resolved for the time being I see no reason to reopen it.”

“I understand, Your Honor,” Fergus said, “but this is a special circumstance. I have knowledge of the prisoner that neither Mr. Quinlan nor the district attorney are aware of. Ms. Sawyer is my ex-wife. We were married for three years, and I probably know her better than anyone else, since she has no other family. I assure you that she is neither a danger to society nor a flight risk. Actually, she’s in a state of shock, and should have been held in the dispensary instead of a jail cell. When I arrived about an hour ago she was hysterical. The guard will testify to that.”

Sharon watched Fergus. He didn’t move around or gesture, but stood quietly and looked straight at the judge, while speaking in a low, respectful tone. She’d never seen him in action before. Most of the time when they were married she’d been in college and had classes during the day when court was in session.

He was dressed in a superbly tailored gray suit, with a green tie that highlighted his deep-set green eyes. He looked elegant and every inch the professional. She still couldn’t believe that he was there, at her side, defending her in a court of law!

The judge spoke, interrupting her thoughts.

“I wasn’t made aware that the prisoner needed medical attention.”

The lawyer from the district attorney’s office stood. “She didn’t, Your Honor. When we brought her in she was upset but rational. If need be we can have her held in a hospital ward, but we still object to having her freed on bail. Our case is almost airtight. She was caught leaning over the body of a stabbing victim with a bloody letter opener in her hand.”

“I should think that would be enough in itself to send her into shock,” Fergus drawled acidly. “Sharon has a spotless record. She’s never even had a parking ticket. While we were married she wouldn’t go fishing with me because she couldn’t stand to see the fish hooked and killed.”

His voice throbbed with emotion as he continued. “This woman has absolutely nothing in her background to suggest that she would kill anybody or anything. In fact, I’m willing to stake my career on her innocence. I’ll take full responsibility for her if you’ll release her in my custody.”

That snapped Sharon out of her apathy and she gasped. Even the judge looked startled.

“Mr. Lachlan,” he said, “are either of you married to anyone else at this time?”

Fergus shook his head. “No, Your Honor, we’re both single. There won’t be any problem with prior commitments.”

The assistant district attorney muttered a halfhearted protest, but the judge reversed his previous decision and granted Sharon freedom on bail. Her relief was short-lived. Bail was set at two hundred thousand dollars, and she couldn’t raise anywhere near that amount.

“Don’t worry,” Fergus said, helping her to stand. “I’ll take care of it. Come on, we’ve got one more stop to make and then we can go home.”

Sharon wanted to protest. To refuse his much-too-generous offer. But the thought of being locked up again in that dungeon was one she couldn’t face. She’d pay him back somehow, but for now she had to accept his charity. All she wanted was to get out of there.

It didn’t take long to have her released, but when they brought her the bag containing the clothes and personal possessions that had been taken from her when she was booked there was one essential item missing. Her dress!

“Sorry,” she was told when she pointed out the oversight, “but it’s being held as evidence. There’s quite a lot of the victim’s blood on the front of it.”

Again panic froze her. Was she going to have to spend the night there after all? “But I don’t have anything to wear home,” she cried.

The man behind the counter shrugged, but Fergus swore and reached for his wallet. Extracting a bill, he tossed it on the counter. “Here, I’ll buy the damn coveralls she’s wearing,” he snapped, and took her arm to guide her through the building and outside into the cool, sweet night air.

* * *

Fergus had been fortunate to find a parking space within half a block of the jail, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he seated Sharon in the white Cadillac he’d rented at the airport. Getting her released had been easier than he’d expected, but now what was he going to do with her?

He shut her door, then walked around and slid into the driver’s side. What had possessed him to volunteer to be responsible for her? That meant he had to act as baby-sitter, bodyguard and parole officer for her, and she was going to object to that when she realized the extent of his commitment.

Neither of them spoke as he started the engine and pulled out into the street. Anna Grieg had given him her address.
Their
address. Apparently she and Sharon shared a house with another woman named Tracey, but he had no idea how to get there.

He turned his head to ask her for directions, but the words died in his throat. She was crumpled against the seat with her eyes closed, and she looked beaten and exhausted. That settled it. If he was going to be responsible for her then he was also going to make some of her decisions until she was better able to make them herself.