Presumed Guilty & Keeper of the Bride by Tess Gerritsen Read Free Book Online

shuffling feet announced the arrival of Judge Klimenko, who creaked behind the bench and sank like a bag of old bones into his chair. He fumbled around in his pockets and finally managed to perch a pair of bifocals on his nose.

    “They brought him out of retirement,” someone whispered in the front row. “You know, they say he’s senile.”

    “They also say he’s deaf!” shot back Judge Klimenko. With that, he slammed down the gavel. “Court is now in session.”

    The hearing convened. She followed her attorney’s advice and let him do the talking. For forty-five minutes she didn’t say a word as two men, one she barely knew, one she knew not at all, argued the question of her freedom. They weren’t here to decide guilt or innocence. That was for the trial. The issue to be settled today was more immediate: should she be set free pending that trial?

    The deputy D.A. ticked off a list of reasons the accused should remain incarcerated. Weight of evidence. Danger to the community. Undeniable flight risk. The savage nature of the crime, he declared, pointed to the defendant’s brutal nature. Miranda could not believe that this monster he kept referring to was her. Is that what they all think of me? she wondered, feeling the gaze of the audience on her back. That I’m evil? That I would kill again?

    Only when she was asked, twice, to stand for Judge Klimenko’s decision did her attention shift back to the present. Trembling, she rose to her feet and gazed up at the pair of eyes peering down at her over bifocals.

    “Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars cash or two hundred thousand dollars secured property.” The gavel slammed down. “Court dismissed.”

    Miranda was stunned. Even as the audience milled around behind her, she stood frozen in despair.

    “It’s the best I could do,” Pelham whispered.

    It might as well have been a million. She would never be able to raise it.

    “Come on, Ms. Wood,” said the bailiff. “Time to go back.”

    In silence she let herself be escorted across the room, past the gazes of all those prying eyes. Only for a second did she pause, to glance back over her shoulder at Chase Tremain. As their gazes locked she thought she saw, for an instant, a flicker of something she hadn’t seen before. Compassion. Just as quickly, it was gone.

    Fighting tears, she turned and followed the bailiff through the side door.

    Back to jail.

    “That will keep her locked away,” said Evelyn.

    “A hundred thousand?” Chase shook his head. “It doesn’t seem out of reach.”

    “Not for us, maybe. But for someone like her?” Evelyn snorted. The look of satisfaction on her flawlessly made-up face was not becoming. “No. No, I think Ms. Miranda Wood will be staying right where she belongs. Behind bars.”

    “She hasn’t budged an inch,” said Lorne Tibbetts. “We’ve been questioning her for a week straight now and she sticks to that story like glue.”

    “It doesn’t matter,” said Evelyn. “Facts are facts. She can’t refute them.”

    They were sitting outside, on Evelyn’s veranda. At mid-morning they’d been driven from the house by the heat; the sun streaming in the windows had turned the rooms into ovens. Chase had forgotten about these hot August days. In his memory, Maine was forever cool, forever immune to the miseries of summer. So much for childhood memories. He poured another glass of iced tea and handed the pitcher over to Tibbetts.

    “So what do you think, Lorne?” asked Chase. “You have enough to convict?”

    “Maybe. There are holes in the evidence.”

    “What holes?” demanded Evelyn.

    Chase thought, my sister-in-law is back to her old self again. No more hysterics since that day at the police station. She looked cool and in control, which is how he’d always remembered her from their childhood. Evelyn the ice queen.

    “There’s the matter of the fingerprints,” said Tibbetts.

    “What do you mean?” asked Chase. “Weren’t