Part 19 (2/2)
”I don't have a few months,” Woodrow shot back.
”You do. Stop it. Stop worrying about your campaign,” Tara insisted.
”You know the rules as well as I do. I can't give you anything that can be used against him: not his name, not a set of prints, not a piece of physical evidence, nothing. I am bound by my oath of confidentiality and I will not breach it.” She almost lay across the table, looking very young and almost defeated.
”Woodrow, what's it going to take to convince you that he's not arrest able much less indictable, at this point?”
”I only have your word that he's unbalanced, Tara. I haven't seen a psychological workup, I haven't met the gentleman in question. Bring me something that says he's certifiable, and I'll consider pet.i.tioning. I wouldn't have a case anyway if he's legally insane. If you can't do that, then convince this guy to talk to us. He made the first step in contacting you and giving you permission to partially disclose. Obviously he wants some kind of resolution.
Do it, Tara. Either one, but do it quick.”
Tara hung her head. Woodrow was right. Bill Hamilton had cried out for something. But what?
Was this the whimper of a flawed man? Or a cry that was a prelude to a laugh because the joke was on her? Stanford Carrol was closemouthed and Woodrow was taking the goal and going home.
”Okay, Woodrow.” Lifting her head, so tired she could cry, Tara Limey acquiesced.
”I'll get you what you want. But I want your word that he will be committed per the State so that anything he says to the physicians cannot be used against him in a court of law. Your word, Woodrow.”
She'd given as much as she could. If Bill Hamilton was going to stand trial, he would do it with a clean slate. No medical file open to the prosecution should he be judged sane. If that could be arranged, Tara would have done her job.
”I'll see, Tara. I'll do my best,” was all he said.
Wearily she slid out of the booth and, without a backward glance, left Lindy's and Woodrow Weber, but not her worries, behind. She drove in a trance, never once tagging the unmarked car that followed her all the way to the driveway of her home.
For the first time in her life Tara locked the doors of her car and, once she was inside, the doors of her home. Ten minutes later she was in bed, a painkiller working its magic on her throbbing arm and her aching head and her heavy heart. Failure was not a familiar or comforting bedfellow.
Almost asleep, it was a struggle to answer the phone when it rang. But answer it she did, only to hear nothing on the other end. Sleep coming fast, she almost hung up when she heard a sound like wind through the cottonwoods. But it wasn't wind, it was someone sighing. A beautiful, almost deep voice pulling in a breath and exhaling it, and in the rhythm it made, Tara was sure she could hear a word. Over and over again she heard the word.
”Bang.”
”Bang.”
”Bang.”
Eleven.
”Are we billing this time?” Caroline stood in front of Tara's desk, notepad in hand, waiting for instructions.
”Darn right we're billing this,” Tara muttered.
The night had been too short, her sleep too disturbed by ridiculous dreams, to make her anything but out of sorts. Bill Hamilton was disturbing every minute of her life; he might as well pay for it.
”And if Mr. Hamilton doesn't get his check back posthaste, then we drop him.”
Bravado. It was a ridiculous indulgence. She wanted Bill Hamilton to disappear, but on her terms. Putting her fingers to her eyes, Tara wondered if the likes of him could ever be exorcised.
No matter what the outcome of all of this, he would color her life, and Donna's, forever; he would shadow their friends.h.i.+p until the end of time and Donna might never even know it.
”Maybe you should cancel your appointments today.”
Tara lowered her fingers and a worried Caroline came into view. Tara smiled.
”I'm fine. Really. I just didn't sleep well last night.”
”Can't imagine why,” Caroline drawled.
”Did you have anyone look at that arm yet?”
Tara laughed.
”Not yet, but I will. Donna went through my address book this morning and made an appointment for me. Pushy, pushy.”
”Good for her. I should have thought of that.”
Caroline raised an eyebrow.
”Are you going to keep it?”
Tara looked at the bandage peeking out from under her b.u.t.toned cuff.
”The appointment or the arm?”
”Very funny.” Caroline pulled a face and held up her notebook.
”Are we done with this?”
”Not unless you have something.” Tara handed over a pile of correspondence to be typed.
”Messages and mail,” Caroline said.
”Gary Blackwell still can't get his client to settle. You're going to start picking a jury as scheduled. Johnnie Rae's mother called. She wants to know why it's taking so long to get a trial date.”
”Have her take that up with the court clerk,” Tara responded quickly, immediately sorry she'd spoken so flippantly.
”No, don't tell her anything of the sort. I'll call her. Poor woman is beside herself.
Johnnie Rae's her only child. It's got to be hard for her.”
”She is a sweet lady. She also started making noises about her bills.”
Caroline bit her lip, hesitant to bring it up.
”Take care of that, too. We'll put her on a payment schedule. I'll let you know what we work out so you can adjust the records.”
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