Chapter 4
Whatever it took, Emily wanted the bastard back in prison. The sooner the better.
As long as she lived and breathed, she would do all in her power to see that he did not get away with what he’d done.
Evidently, the only way to make sure that happened was to come back to Pine Bluff and get it done.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a vacation which meant she had plenty of time.
She owed it to Heather. Emily would watch him, and she would do whatever necessary to prove he was the one. She would somehow find the necessary evidence or trick him into a confession.
Emily rarely visited her hometown, and when she did, she conscientiously avoided other people.
Yet here she stood, hesitating at the corner of the block where the streets and the sidewalks crisscrossed on the western end of Pine Bluff’s Courthouse Square.
The very heart of town. Once she rounded that corner the pedestrian traffic would be heavier and the likelihood of running into someone who recognized her would be much greater.
She’d spent her entire senior year in high school as the object of the whole town’s morbid curiosity.
Then there was the breakdown she still hadn’t lived down in her parents’ eyes.
The painful memories whispered through Emily, reminded her of just how bad it had been.
She’d been running away from it ever since.
No more running. She squared her shoulders and strode determinedly around the corner.
She intended to talk to someone in the district attorney’s office about the requirements for retrying Clint Austin.
They should have done more in the first place and this would not have happened.
Phone calls just weren’t getting the job done.
From now on, she would be doing this face-to-face.
The sidewalk wasn’t as busy as she’d anticipated, allowing her to relax marginally.
She picked up her pace, trying not to linger too long in front of any one particular storefront.
Most looked the same other than a little new paint or decorating.
Cochran’s Shoes, Half Moon Cafe, she’d loved both places as a kid.
And Hodges’s Drugstore. She’d spent a summer working behind the old-fashioned soda fountain counter there. An eternity ago.
As she neared the middle of the block, the crowd of people gathered at the eastern corner caused her to falter.
The shouting reminded her of a rally she’d accidentally gotten caught up in back in college.
She couldn’t make out the words being chanted.
Hand-painted signs that displayed slogans such as “The Wages of Sin Is Death” and “Prison Was Too Good for You” jogged above the sea of faces.
A demonstration against Austin’s return, she realized slowly. But why protest at this particular location? Lee Brady’s law office was there. Surely he wasn’t working with Austin. But why else would this protest be happening outside his office?
Another realization sank in. Austin could be in there.
Her palms started to sweat and her heart began that pointless race against disaster.
She should just go back to her SUV and go home.
She would come back to the DA’s office tomorrow.
They wouldn’t like her showing up and would certainly urge her to let the whole thing go .
. . but she couldn’t. Not in this lifetime.
Heather Baker had died in Emily’s bed—in Emily’s stead—and she had to see that this mockery of justice was righted.
The shouting grew more frantic as the crowd grudgingly parted for someone to pass. Emily’s lungs refused to take in any air.
It was him.
She recognized the way he moved. Long, confident strides that had once made her heart stop, then thump wildly. Fluid grace combined with the bad-boy good looks that had made her pray that this time, just maybe, she would be the girl he was coming to talk to.
He came closer. Her mouth felt as if she’d gone days without water. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t run away. He would walk right past her. Would he recognize her? Would he stop?
She fell back a step, flattened against the brick facade of the nearest shop in a futile attempt to become invisible. She should go back to her car. Slip into a store. Run like hell. Anything to get out of his path.
A dozen or so yards away he abruptly darted across the street before continuing westward—toward her but with the width of the too-narrow street between them. Relief made her knees weak, allowed her to breathe again.
He reached for the door of a car . . . his car. The red vintage Firebird he’d driven all those years ago. When he would have gotten into the driver’s seat, he stopped as if someone said his name or as if he felt her watching him.
Emily’s heart lurched when his gaze locked with hers. Even from thirty feet away she felt the focused intensity of those gray eyes. She tried to look away but couldn’t master the necessary motion.
Every horrifying detail of that night flashed in vivid color. The blood . . . the struggle. The pain of knowing that nothing Emily had done had been enough. That she was the reason her best friend was dead.
Austin broke eye contact first, then got into his car.
Time and place returned with jarring force as he backed out of the parking slot and sped away.
Emily had tried to pull Austin away from her friend.
She’d banged against him with her fists, screamed at him to stop.
All to no avail. It would have been so easy to do what she should have done.
No one would have blamed her for actions that certainly would have amounted to self-defense.
The knife he’d used on Heather had been lying right there on the floor . . . within easy reach.
That was where she had truly failed her friend.
Emily should have killed him when she had the chance.