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

cried.

    “I don’t have a choice.” He turned back to the other cop. “You got the court order, Ellis. Let her walk.”

    “I don’t understand,” said Miranda, staring in bewilderment at her attorney. “Who would do this for me?”

    “A friend, obviously,” was Randall Pelham’s dry response. “A very good friend.”

    “But I don’t have any friends with that kind of money. No one with a hundred thousand to spare.”

    “Well, someone’s putting up the bail. My advice is, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

    “If I just knew who it was—”

    “It’s been handled through some Boston attorney who says his client wishes to stay anonymous.”

    “Why?”

    “Maybe the donor’s embarrassed.”

    To be helping a murderess, she thought.

    “It’s his—or her—right to remain anonymous. I say, take it. The alternative is to stay in jail. Not exactly the most comfortable spot to be in.”

    She let out a deep breath. “No, it isn’t.” In fact, it had been horribly bleak in that cell. She’d spent the past week staring at the window, longing for the simple pleasure of a walk by the sea. Or a decent meal. Or just the warmth of the sunshine on her face. Now it was all within reach.

    “I wish I knew who to thank,” she said softly.

    “Not possible, Miranda. I say, just accept the favor.” He snapped his briefcase shut.

    Suddenly he irritated her, this kid barely out of braces, so smart and snazzy in his gray suit. Randall Pelham, Esquire.

    “The arrangements are made. You can leave this afternoon. Will you be staying at your house?”

    She paused, shuddering at the memory of Richard’s body in her bed. The house had since been cleaned, courtesy of a housekeeping service. Her neighbor Mr. Lanzo had arranged it all, had told her the place looked fine now. It would be as if nothing had happened in that bedroom. There would be no signs of violence at all.

    Except in her memory.

    But where else could she go?

    She nodded. “I—I suppose I’ll go home.”

    “You know the drill, right? Don’t leave the county. Bass Harbor’s as far as you can go. Stay in touch at all times. And don’t, I repeat don’t, go around discussing the case. My job’s tough enough as it is.”

    “And we wouldn’t want to tax your abilities, would we?” she said under her breath.

    He didn’t seem to hear the comment. Or maybe he was ignoring her. He strode out of the cell, then turned to gaze at her. “We can still try a plea bargain.”

    She looked him in the eye. “No.”

    “That way we could limit the damage. You could walk out of here in ten years instead of twenty-five.”

    “I didn’t kill him.”

    For a moment Pelham returned her gaze. With a shrug of impatience, he turned. “Plea bargain,” he said. “That’s my advice. Think about it.”

    She did think about it, all afternoon as she sat in that stark cell waiting for the release papers.

    But as soon as she stepped out of the building and walked, as a free woman, into the sunshine, all thoughts of trading away even ten years of her life seemed unimaginable. She stood there on the sidewalk, gazing up at the sky, inhaling the sweetest air she’d ever breathed in her life.

    She decided to walk the mile to her house.

    By the time she came within sight of her front yard, her cheeks were flushed, her muscles pleasantly tired. The house looked the same as it always had, shingled cottage, trim lawn—which someone had obviously watered in her absence—brick walkway, a hedge of hydrangea bushes sprouting fluffy white clouds of flowers. Not a large house, but it was hers.

    She started up the walkway.

    Only when she’d mounted the porch steps did she see the vicious words someone had soaped on her front window. She halted, stung by the cruelty of the message.

    Killer.

    In sudden fury she swiped at the glass with her sleeve. The accusing words dissolved into soapy streaks. Who could have written such a horrible thing? Surely none