Part 19 (1/2)

”Your father was one.”

”No, he wasn't. Not like you. He never traded a life for a vote, or justice for a long shot. My father was a statesman. You're a politician and that's all you'll ever be. You're using that woman's death to try and cover up the fact that you want my client for your own purposes. You don't want to see her put to rest.”

”And you do?”

”Yes. No.” Tara shook her head.

”I want to do what's right. Woodrow, listen.” Her hand snaked out to touch his, but he moved it away.

”Listen to me. I spoke with his doctor. The man is afraid for him and of him. He didn't tell me much, but it was enough for me to give my client a fifty-fifty chance of being totally insane. You can't try an insane man. Where will that get you if you try?”

”He's the one, Tara. I know it and you can't hide behind the sanity question.”

”You haven't seen him.”

”You haven't seen what he did.” Woodrow's voice was shrill, the picture of the murder scene fresh in his mind.

”I confirmed everything. The paper hat, the bullet wounds. Granted, I could be off base. He could be the trucker that found the body and called it in. I don't know. If we could test your client's prints against the set we have, then we'd know for sure because the driver told us he didn't touch anything except the pay phone outside. So either you've got the perp, or you've got the guy who turned it all in.”

Woodrow sighed and ran a hand across his eyes.

As if he'd willed it, a waiter appeared and flourished menus. Tara shook her head. Woodrow did too. The waiter left, none too pleased. Woodrow leaned over the sparkly red laminate table, folded his hands, and looked at her.

”I'm not going to pet.i.tion for anything on behalf of a man I haven't met. What you've given me isn't enough.

”So many things could be going on here. I would be derelict in my duty as district attorney if I didn't take a look at this from all angles. Let him come in and talk to me, Tara. Or George, if you want. Just talk. You know we can't force him to be fingerprinted. Just convince him to come in and tell us what he told you. Let me evaluate him myself, and I'll have George open the file to you.

We'll put our heads together.”

Tara shook her head in disbelief. Bill Hamilton had messed up the rug of her life and Woodrow Weber had just pulled it right out from underneath her.

”Woodrow, I thought you were my friend,” Tara said quietly.

”And you're mine,” he challenged.

”See, it cuts both ways.”

”And so it's a standoff?”

”I guess so,” he sighed.

”I don't know that there's any other solution. I can't budge on this, Tara.”

”Neither can I. I am legally bound to my client and intend to honor his request. Even if he wasn't my client anymore, I couldn't hand him over to you.” She leaned over the table, lowering her voice.

”Have you forgotten what it means to be a lawyer just because you want to be the lawmaker?”

Tara hung her head, not in defeat but to buy time to think. When she raised it again, she was breathing easier, all her energy directed at a solu on to this new problem.

”He's been under a psychiatrist's care, medicated since he was an adolescent. He's complex, he's unstable, he isn't a clear person for want of a better term. This man will not blithely walk in and let you question him. I promised to be his advocate when I accepted him as a client. Don't do this, Woodrow.

Don't put me in a bind like this.”

”I don't want to, Tara, but you're not the only one with principles,” Woodrow said, finding it difficult to sound convincing.

”I'll make it easy. Just give me his name. I'll run him. I'll do all the work.

You don't have to tell me anything except that.

You've done your job by asking me to pet.i.tion.

Now I'll do mine.”

Tara c.o.c.ked her arm and propped the elbow on the side of the booth, hoping the change in position would alleviate the throb. Her thumbnail disappeared between her teeth. She looked past Woodrow as she thought. He looked at her wrist.

Slowly he reached out as if to touch the bandages.

Tara started, then pulled her arm down and put it under the table.

”Did he do that?” Woodrow breathed.

”No,” Tara said, unsure if that was the truth, but she exploited the change of subject.

”He helped me when this happened. Now I want you to help me. I want him out of my life, Woodrow.

I want him off my property. But I want it done the right way.”

”He's on your property!” Woodrow paled.

”What in the h.e.l.l have you gotten yourself into?

Is this personal? Does this man mean something to you?”

”Yes,” she answered, seeing a crack of light behind the door he was closing on her.

”It is personal But not in the way you think. It's a friend of mine, Woodrow. A woman I care deeply about.”

”Then you have no choice,” he said gravely.

”Give him to me.”

”Only if you agree to hospitalization,” Tara answered, frustrated and tired. He was missing the point and it wasn't even a fine one.

”If the doctors find he's sane, they'll release him, and he's all yours, but I'll have fulfilled my obligation. You've maybe waited a few months while he's being evaluated.

That's nothing.”