Friction

Better to be remembering it now with a trace of regret than forever regretting that she had denied herself the experience.

 

But he would always be the man she had compromised ethics for. And to him she would always represent the system standing between him and his child. His parting words to her last night had cut to the quick, but they had summed up the hopelessness of their situation.

 

After showering and dressing, she went into the kitchen to find Marilyn already there, sitting at the dining table, which she’d turned into a temporary workspace for herself. They exchanged good mornings, and when Holly asked Marilyn how she’d slept, she guffawed. “Some bodyguard I am. I went out like a light. What time did you get home?”

 

“Around ten thirty. I had a police escort all the way to the back door, then they parked at the end of the drive.”

 

“They’re still there. Did you happen to watch the news last night?”

 

“No.”

 

“They’ve got another person of interest. His name is Chuck Otterman.”

 

Holly stopped in the act of pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Are you certain?”

 

“Heard it again this morning. I thought the name sounded familiar, and guess what?” She tapped a sheet of paper with a list of names on it. “He’s contributed to your campaign.”

 

“Yes, I know. I’ve met him.” She realized now why Crawford had asked her about the man, seemingly out of the blue. “What are they saying about him?”

 

Marilyn filled her in and summed up with, “Frankly, I don’t think it amounts to much. He came forward of his own volition. A guilty person wouldn’t call attention to himself. And what could he possibly have against you?”

 

“Nothing that I know of.”

 

“I think the media just got wind of his sneaking away from the courthouse and made more of it than is there.” Marilyn pointed at the chair across from her. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

 

Holly sat.

 

Marilyn clasped her hands together on the tabletop. “You shot down—maybe not the best turn of phrase—my idea of using the Texas Ranger somehow to—”

 

“I stand by that decision, Marilyn. He’s got enough on his plate.”

 

“Holly, he’s a poster boy.”

 

“For?”

 

“For long and lean, badass lawman. Your description ‘cop-like’ didn’t include the chiseled chin, the cheekbones, and the fact that he’s a hunk.”

 

“Honestly, Marilyn. How old are you?”

 

“Never too old to notice. I Googled him last night. Do you know his history?” Before Holly could reply, she began citing what she called Crawford’s “exploits,” including Halcon.

 

“And he’s not just a shoot-’em-up. Practically single-handedly, he busted up a kiddie porn ring run by a preacher and his wife from right here in Podunk, but they had customers all over the world. Even had the feds singing his praises.”

 

She sat forward, leaning into the table. “He’s smart. He’s tough. He was rude as hell to me, but I’ll forgive him that because he has this remarkable soft spot for his daughter. His orphaned child. He was in your courtroom fighting to regain custody of her, when…”

 

She paused for dramatic effect. “When he’s called upon to save the life of the judge who might very well have ruled against him.” Spreading her arms wide, she exclaimed, “It’s Hollywood. It’s chivalry and valor. People will eat it up. But we’ve got to serve it to them.”

 

“I’ve recused myself from his custody case.”

 

That blindsided Marilyn. “What? When? You did? Want to tell me why?”

 

“No.”

 

Holly’s succinct but firm reply left Marilyn with no wiggle room for argument. Tactfully backing off that, she picked up a pen and began using it to beat out a rapid tattoo on the table.

 

A full minute elapsed, then Marilyn tossed down the pen and smacked her hands together. “Actually this is even better. Yes! As the presiding judge, you were limited as to what you could say. Now that you won’t be hearing his case, you can be subjective. You’re free to talk about him in any terms you choose.”

 

Holly sighed. “Marilyn—”

 

“I know you don’t want to expose his daughter to the media. I get that. Besides, I doubt the grandfather would permit it. He wouldn’t even listen to my pitch. But what if we—”

 

“Wait. Back up. You tried to pitch this idea to Joe Gilroy?”

 

“About half an hour ago.”

 

Holly looked down at Marilyn’s cell phone lying on the table between them.

 

Marilyn said, “I Googled him, too, and had their home number in no time. Not that it did me any good to call. The instant I introduced myself and told him who I was, he hung up on me. But we can still cash in without using the little girl. We can—”

 

“Excuse me for just a moment.” Holly pushed back her chair and stood up.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

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