Chapter 9 #2
Holly’s fingers tightened around her mug. Reid answered before she had to.
“Busy,” he said. “A lot going on.”
Linc’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s a lawyer’s answer.”
Reid’s mouth flattened, and Holly saw the careful line he walked.
While he might have liked to pick his grandfather’s brain about what was happening, he didn’t want to worry him.
He certainly didn’t want to pull Linc into something dangerous.
Holly understood both instincts, though she could tell Linc did, too, and resented being handled.
Reid set his coffee down. “I met someone who knew you yesterday. Do you remember Allen Davies?”
Linc had been about to take a drink. His hand paused. It lasted only a second, maybe less, but Holly saw it.
“Allen Davies,” Linc said.
“He recognized me as your grandson. Said you believed in the letter of the law.”
Linc leaned back in his chair, lemon muffin forgotten.
The sharpness in his eyes changed, pulling away from the kitchen and into a courtroom Holly had never seen.
“That sounds like Allen. He was a prosecutor when I was on the bench.” Linc picked up his coffee, then set it down without drinking.
“Ambitious, smart as a whip, but in the end, too certain that being right made procedure optional.”
Reid came to stand behind the chair beside Holly, one hand resting on the back. “What do you mean?”
Linc studied his grandson. “Why are you asking?”
Reid shrugged. “Curiosity.”
“That’s your cross-examination voice.”
Holly glanced up at Reid. He didn’t deny it.
Linc’s gaze moved to her, then back to him. “Davies prosecuted one of the last cases in my courtroom. Assault that became a homicide after the victim died in the hospital. The defendant was a bad man. No question in my mind then, and none now.”
Holly’s stomach tightened. “What happened?”
“The primary evidence had problems. The chain of custody was broken in two places. The defendant’s statement was taken after he had asked for counsel but before it arrived.
There was a search that went beyond the warrant.
Individually, maybe some of it could have survived. Together?” Linc shook his head. “No.”
Reid’s voice stayed careful. “You excluded it.”
“I did what the law required.”
“And the case collapsed,” Reid said.
“My evidentiary ruling gutted Allen’s prosecution.
” Linc’s mouth pulled flat. “The jury never heard things they likely should have, because the state didn’t do its job cleanly enough to put them in front of twelve citizens.
The jury acquitted. Allen was furious and left prosecution shortly after.
He took it as a betrayal. Not of him, I don’t think, but of the victim and the family. Of justice itself.”
Holly knew Allen as calm, kind, and capable. She couldn’t picture him furious in a courtroom, watching a case fall apart because Lincoln Fleming had chosen process over outcome.
“What happened to the defendant?” she asked.
“Walked out,” Linc said. “Died two years later in a bar fight in Idaho, from what I heard. Mean life. Mean ending.”
“And Allen?” Reid asked.
“He stayed with the prosecutor’s office a little longer, but not long. Left before the next election cycle. I heard he went into advocacy work.”
Linc reached for the muffin again, but his appetite seemed to have faded. “Davies wasn’t a bad prosecutor. He cared, and caring can make a man dangerous if he starts believing it gives him permission to bend the world until it looks like justice.”
Holly rubbed her thumb along the seam of her coffee cup. “Allen’s always been good to me.”
“As he should.”
“But you didn’t like him.”
“I didn’t say that.” Linc’s voice softened just enough to take the sting out. “I’m saying he had a wound where the law was concerned. Some people heal around wounds. Some make a religion out of them.”
Reid’s hand flexed once on the back of the chair.
Linc watched him for several seconds. “You didn’t come here just to deliver muffins.”
Reid’s answer was quiet. “Today, I did.”
“You can’t fool me, boy. What’s going on?”
“You called me, remember?”
Holly looked down at her coffee because she could feel Linc’s concern turn toward her.
“Are you in some kind of trouble, Holly?” he asked.
The lie came automatically. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it to him either. During her teenage years, she’d said it dozens of times. “I’m all right.”
Linc gave her the same look he’d given her all those years ago. “You can talk to me, you know.”
Reid shifted beside her. “There’s an active investigation connected to Sanctuary. We can’t discuss details.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
Linc sat back, frustration tightening his mouth. Age had taken some of his strength, maybe some of his stamina, but none of his instincts. Holly could see how much he disliked being set outside the circle of information. She also saw the worry beneath it. Not just for Reid, but for her.
Linc’s voice dropped, becoming sharper as he pinned Reid with a look. “You keep her safe.”
Reid nodded. “I will.”
“Don’t say it like a soldier taking orders. Say it like a man who understands what the price is if he screws up.”
Reid was silent beside her, and Holly’s pulse caught hard enough to hurt. “I understand,” he said.
Linc held his gaze long enough that Holly almost forgot to breathe. Then he nodded once and picked up his coffee. “Good. Now tell your sister to stop calling me before eight in the morning to ask if I’ve eaten. If I wanted a parole officer, I would’ve committed a crime.”
The tension broke just enough for Holly to laugh.
“I’ll pass that along,” Reid said.
Linc looked at Holly again. “You’ll come back?”
The question caught her off guard. “Of course.”
“Bring Blue. He has bad manners, but I like him anyway.”
Blue thumped his tail beneath the table.
Holly leaned over and kissed Linc’s cheek before they left. “Thank you for calling about the muffin emergency.”
“I provide purpose where I can.”
She chuckled. “You provide demands.”
“Same thing.”
Reid patted his grandfather on the shoulder, leaving the bakery box on the table. Holly clipped Blue’s leash on, and they stepped back into the sunlight with the old house behind them and too many thoughts crowding the space between her and Reid.
Neither spoke until they reached the truck.
Blue leaped into the back seat, then stared at them with deep impatience. Holly climbed into the passenger seat and looked back at the Fleming house. Linc stood at the living room window now, coffee in hand, watching them.
“He knows something’s wrong,” she said.
“He always knows when something’s wrong.”