“You never are.”
She said it with a teasing lilt, but he remained unsmiling as he removed his arm from her hand. “Save that for the hearing. You can swear to it under oath.”
“Crawford—”
“I gotta go.”
“Would you rather have been arrested in front of Georgia?”
“Now’s not the time to talk about this.”
“Then why’d you’d make that snide remark?”
“Why’d you make that deal with Joe?”
“Because he gave me two options, and both were crummy. I had to make a snap decision and act on it. You, of all people,” she said, jabbing the air between them with her index finger, “should relate to that.”
Giving him no time to respond, she shoved open the passenger door, dropped to the ground, then slammed the door closed. She jogged toward the azalea hedge and disappeared into the foliage.
Dammit, he wanted to go after her, finish the fight, then get her naked and watch her boil over for a different reason entirely.
Swearing, he put the SUV into reverse and backed all the way to the corner.
Holly’s cell phone rang just as she was unobtrusively letting herself in through the back door. She halfway expected it to be Crawford, calling to apologize, or to continue their argument. But the number in her LED wasn’t his.
“Hello?”
“Judge Spencer, Greg Sanders.”
The very sound of his voice made her shiver. “How did you get my cell number?”
“I have resources.”
“Your client base.”
Ignoring the droll remark, he said, “A lot’s happened since our conversation at the elevator the other day. You’ve had a harrowing week. Did you get my roses?”
“A thank-you note is in the mail.”
“You liked them, then?”
“They were thorny.”
He snorted a laughed.
She wanted to hang up on him, but she wondered what was behind the unprecedented call. “We’ve exhausted the topic of the roses.”
“You want to know why I called.” She didn’t reply. He went on. “I was summoned to lockup tonight to confer with a client. The place was hopping. Guess what the rumor mill is churning out tonight?”
“I’m sure you can’t wait to enlighten me.”
“Ranger Crawford Hunt, whose praises you sang the other day on TV, has been booted—pun intended—”
“Clever.”
“—off Neal Lester’s investigation. Furthermore, Lester was overheard suggesting that the next time he and Hunt talk, Hunt will probably want to have a lawyer present.”
“I hope you’re not calling me to ask for a reference.”
He laughed, and she envisioned the large teeth and Mrs. Briggs’s grandpa’s mule.
“No, representing Hunt might be considered a conflict of interest, since you’re so solidly in his corner, and I’m your opponent.”
“I’m still failing to see the purpose of this call.”
“Only to say what a shame it is that you’ve publicly defended the guy who’s suspected of planning the shooting spree. Remember, I told you it was only a matter of time before you messed up. And did you ever.”
“Surely you’re not calling to gloat over an incident that caused the deaths of two men. Even you wouldn’t be that obnoxious.”
“No, what happened to Chet and that other fellow is a tragedy. But in light of recent developments, your exaltation of Crawford Hunt doesn’t speak well of your discernment, does it?”
She had to bite her tongue to keep from revealing what she knew now about Pat Connor and Chuck Otterman. “I can’t comment on an ongoing police investigation.”
He guffawed. “How long are you going to hide behind those skirts? Fact is, you put all your eggs in the wrong basket.”
“Good night.”
“Hold on. This turn of events has created an embarrassing situation for you. But there’s an easy way out.”
“I don’t need a way out of anything.”
“Nice try, but we both know better. Why don’t you fade gracefully into the background and let me run uncontested? See? Win win. I get what I should have had in the first place, you get to save face.”
“Don’t call me again.”
“This is a one-time offer. You should accept it.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m going to shred you. I’m going to find out what our tough Texas Ranger was doing up in your chambers last night. Yes, judge. There’s scuttlebutt over that, too. By the time I’m done, you’ll wish you’d never heard of Judge Waters. You’ll be a speck in the history books of this county’s courts.”
He paused, took a breath, then in a patronizing tone, he said, “I’d rather it not come to that, and I’m sure you don’t, either. So, what do you say?”
She didn’t say anything. Effectively thumbing her nose at him, she clicked off.
Tomorrow, after Pat Connor was in custody and Crawford had been cleared of all suspicion, she would be vindicated.
But that was tomorrow. First, she must endure what she anticipated would be a long night.