Reed pulled the truck up in the parking lot across the street from the courthouse. Ella saw him from the window in her office, where she’d been watching for him, and her heart did a silly little lurch. She shrugged off her robe and tossed it on the sofa, then hoisted the straps of her bag over her shoulder and rushed out of her office. By the time she had raced up the hall, out the side door, and across the street, she was breathless with anticipation. Reed kept the motor of the old truck idling as he waited. The minute he saw her, he leaned over the seat and flung open the door on the passenger side. Ella climbed into the truck’s cab, and before she got her seat belt buckled, Reed shifted gears and swung out into the light traffic along Cotton Street.

“Sandwiches and chips in that bag.” Reed nodded to the brown paper sack on the seat between them. “And there’s bottled water in the glove compartment.”

“When you called and asked me for lunch—”

“I thought you’d turn me down,” he said as he headed the truck down the one-way street that led into Spring Creek Park. “You’re being very daring riding through town with me.”

“I figure if I’m going to help you search for Junior Blalock’s murderer, people are bound to talk anyway. Besides, there’s no way anyone will know how involved we are on a personal level.”

“All anyone would have to do is take a good look at my face whenever I’m around you and they’d know,” Reed said. “I have a feeling no one could miss seeing the lust in my eyes.”

Ella smiled. “I called Mark this morning and told him that I intend to discuss the case and your trial with my father and with Frank Nelson.”

Reed pulled the truck off the road that circled the park and drove onto a dirt path that ended several yards away under two huge live oaks with high, intertwining branches. After killing the engine, he opened the driver’s door, then leaned across Ella and opened the passenger’s door.

“We need to get a little cross-ventilation going,” he said, then lifted his head to kiss her.

“Not here. People might see us.”

He laughed. “There’s nobody around on this side of the park. Besides, trying to keep your reputation intact while fooling around with me might prove impossible.”

“Why do you say that? Do you know something I don’t?” she asked.

Reed popped open the glove compartment, pulled out two sweating bottles of water, unscrewed the lid on one and handed it to Ella, then placed the second between his thighs. “Briley Joe told me that he overheard some guys talking.”

“What guys?”

“Just some guys. But you should know that somebody saw your car parked behind the garage early this morning. And these guys know that I moved into the room upstairs yesterday.”

“I see.”

Reed lifted the paper sack off the seat, opened it, pulled out a wrapped sandwich, and offered it to Ella. She took it, unwrapped it, and sat there staring at the corned beef on rye.

“I suppose I could say that I left my car overnight at the garage because something or other needed to be fixed.” She took a large bite of the sandwich.

Reed removed the second sandwich and laid it on his lap, then unscrewed the cap on his water bottle. “Yeah, you could, but I doubt anybody’s going to ask you. They’d rather talk behind your back.”

“I can’t risk coming to your room again,” Ella said. “And there’s no way you can come to the house.”

“We can meet in the park. Tonight. Right here. Not many people come to this side of the park, and the odds are that no one will see us.” Reed took a huge gulp of water, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Tonight? But we were together all last night and again this morning.”

“Are you saying you got enough, that you don’t want any more?”

She glared at him. The shock in her eyes quickly turned to fury when he laughed again.

“Damn you, Reed. You just love to aggravate me, don’t you?”

His hand shot out, grabbed her around the neck, and pulled her close. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her hard and fast, then releasing her just as quickly. “I love making love to you more than anything else.”

“Reed?”

“Eat up, babe. I’ve got to get back to the garage. I only get a forty-five minute lunch break.”

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time working in Briley Joe’s garage. Mark told me you earned a college degree while you were in prison. I’m going to check into finding you more suitable work.”

“Just help me prove that I didn’t murder Junior,” Reed said. “Once my name is cleared, I’ll be able to find a better job without any help from you. A job somewhere far away from Spring Creek.”

“You’re not going to stay here?”

“No way in hell.”

“But your mother and sister are here.”

“They can go with me or they can visit me.”

“But what about…”

She let her sentence trail off without completing it, but apparently Reed knew what she’d been about to ask.

“You can come visit me, too,” he said.

When she saw him grinning, she socked him playfully on the arm. “All the girls in high school had big crushes on you. Did you know that?”

He shrugged. “What about you, Miss Ella, did you have a crush on me?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. But I found you interesting and intriguing. Especially after you went to prison and sent me those letters.”

“Those were some letters, huh? Bet they scared the heck out of you, didn’t they?”

“In a way, I suppose they did, but…they also awakened something in me. A true curiosity about sex.”

“Meet me here tonight,” he said. “If it doesn’t rain again, we can spread a blanket out under the stars.”

“What time?”

“I’ll leave the garage about sundown.”

“I’m hoping that before I see you tonight, I will have convinced my father that he’s wrong about you. If we could enlist his help in trying to get Junior’s murder case reopened, it will make things much easier for us.”

Reed didn’t have the heart to tell her about his confrontation with Webb this morning. She’d hear about it sooner or later. Rumors and gossip abounded in Spring Creek. Everybody seemed to know a little bit about everyone else’s personal business. “Don’t count on any help from your old man.”

“And don’t you be so sure that my father can’t admit when he’s wrong,” she said. “Daddy trusts my judgment. If I can convince him that I believe in your innocence, then I think there’s a good chance he will at least give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Damn it, girl, don’t you know that man’s using you?” Webb paced back and forth in the gazebo. “Now I know why you said you wanted some privacy for our conversation, why you insisted on our coming out here.”

“I thought you’d be more reasonable about this,” Ella said.

“Be reasonable about my daughter having an affair with a convicted murderer. A man I prosecuted. A man who swore revenge against me. Can’t you see that the best form of revenge, even better than harming you, is him making you care about him and believe in him?”

Ella shuddered. Her father was wrong, dead wrong. He had to be. Of course, the same suspicious thoughts had crossed her mind, but she had dismissed them. Reed wasn’t faking the passion, of that she was certain. He made love to her as if she were the only woman in the world.

“Haven’t you ever had one single doubt about Reed’s guilt? Now or in the past?” Ella laid her hand on her father’s back and felt him tense.

Webb hung his head. “Do you think I wanted that boy to be guilty? Well, I didn’t.” He turned to face her, inadvertently knocking her hand off his back. “I can’t even say that I blame him for what he did. Junior deserved killing. He deserved worse for the hell he put Judy through, for the beatings he gave her and Reed. And for the things he tried to do to Regina.”

“If you’ve always felt this way, then why—”

“If he’d beaten Junior to death, it would have been one thing—legally as well as in my mind, too. But Reed went back after he’d beaten Junior, when Junior was unconscious and couldn’t defend himself, and slit the man’s throat. That’s murder, Ella, any way you look at it. And you know it.”

“Someone else killed Junior Blalock.”

“Reed had motive, opportunity, and the murder weapon belonged to him.”

“But he wasn’t the only one who had opportunity and motive, was he?” Ella moved closer to stand side by side with her father as he gazed out over the backyard flower garden. “There were others who hated Junior enough to kill him. Why did the investigation end with Reed’s arrest?”

“The police were certain they had their man. And I was certain.” Webb shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “I was so sure. Back then, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind.”

“And now?”

“And now, I have a few doubts,” Webb admitted. “I still think Reed killed Junior, but…Did he tell you that I stopped by the garage this morning?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I wanted to rip him limb from limb.” Webb stepped down from the gazebo and looked up at the early evening sky. “I warned him to stay away from you.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me you could make your own decisions.”

“He’s right. I can.”

Webb breathed deeply, then looked directly at her. “I hit him.”

“Oh, Daddy, you didn’t.”

“He wouldn’t hit me back,” Webb told her. “And you know why he wouldn’t hit me?”

“Why?”

“He said he wouldn’t hit me because I was your father.”

Instantly tears stung her eyes. “I can’t believe he said that. He tries so hard to be tough, to never let anyone see that he has feelings, that he cares about anything or anyone.”

“If I agree to talk to Frank Nelson about reopening Reed’s case, will you promise me to stay away from him?”

“Oh, Daddy, you know I can’t make that kind of promise.”

“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

Ella followed her father out into the garden, and when he paused, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I don’t know if it’s love or…or…All I know is that I care about him and I want to help him.”

“I’ll give Frank a call in the morning. I hope for your sake that I did convict an innocent man fifteen years ago.”

By early afternoon almost half the town had heard about the confrontation between Webb Porter and Reed Conway. Some said it was the old quarrel—that Reed still claimed innocence in Junior Blalock’s murder and blamed Webb for his murder conviction. Others were saying that the good senator was accusing Reed of being the perpetrator in the recent harassment of his daughter and the death of his hunting dogs last night. But by evening, there were a few whispered innuendos floating around that something was going on between Reed Conway and Judge Eleanor Porter. Reed had been seen going into Miss Ella’s office yesterday and staying for quite some time behind locked doors. And someone thought they saw the judge’s car parked behind Conway’s Garage at dawn this morning. And then another somebody had spotted Ella getting into a beat-up old truck with Reed around noon today.

Believing the worst about Ella was difficult, but hearing with one’s own ears was proof positive. Eavesdropping sometimes paid off royally. Learning that Webb was actually going to help Reed Conway, that he planned to suggest to Frank Nelson that he reopen a fifteen-year-old murder case, came as quite a surprise.

Things were going to have to progress a little faster, get a little more deadly. Reed Conway had to return to prison before the truth about Junior’s murder was revealed. And the only way to get rid of Reed was to see to it that he committed another crime. Another murder, maybe, or at least an attempted murder.

Getting hold of the gun that Briley Joe kept in his desk at the garage shouldn’t prove too difficult, not for someone very clever. Half of Spring Creek knew Briley Joe kept the old Sauer & Sohn .308—the weapon his father had taken off a dead German soldier in World War II—loaded and in his unlocked desk. He liked to bring the pistol out from time to time, wave it around, show it off, and threaten to blow to smithereens any thieves who might be foolish enough to try to rob him. There probably wouldn’t be any way to get Reed’s fingerprints on the gun, but as long as no one’s fingerprints other than Briley Joe’s were on it, the plan might work.

Time was running out. Drastic action needed to be taken—tonight.

A sense of excitement radiated through Ella as she eased her Jag up beside the old truck Reed had once again borrowed from his cousin. She wondered if he’d told Briley Joe that he had a late evening rendezvous with a lady judge. She’d like to think that Reed wouldn’t discuss the personal aspects of their relationship with anyone, that what transpired between them was sacred.

A giddy ripple of laughter emerged from her throat. Sacred? Get a grip, Ella. This isn’t a love affair, not some grand passion. At least not for Reed. Not for you either. You know what this is—it’s sex, pure and simple. But that was just it. There was nothing pure or simple about her feelings for Reed. If she had a lick of sense, she wouldn’t be here right now. She’d be home—safe and secure, and as far away from Reed as she could get.

She heard his truck door slam shut. Her heartbeat accelerated. You can start the Jag’s engine, back up, and drive away, she told herself. Escape before it’s too late. But it was already too late and she knew it. She wanted to be with Reed. To lie in his arms tonight and look up at the starry sky. She wanted to make love with him again.

He pecked on her closed window and motioned for her to get out. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving streaks of multicolored light spreading across the sky. At sundown the world took on a hazy, golden glow, a surreal beauty that masked the ugliness so clearly seen in the bright light of day.

She looked out the window. He carried a blanket draped over his arm and a small tape player in his hand. More cool jazz? she wondered. As long as she lived, whenever she heard a saxophone’s sweet moan, she’d think of Reed and the night she’d spent in his arms. Hurriedly she unlocked her door, stuffed her keys into the pocket of her shorts, and got out of the car. Before she had a chance to close the door, Reed draped his free arm around her waist and dragged her up against him. He kissed her thoroughly, taking her breath away in the process. How was it possible that when this man touched her, she lost every ounce of common sense she possessed?

“Come on, babe, let’s find a perfect spot to spread this blanket.”

She closed her car door, clasped Reed’s hand, and followed where he led. Off behind the huge live oaks and into a clearing close to where the winding stream joined the nearby creek. A train’s horn blew in the distance. The railroad tracks spanned a nearby bridge. Here with Reed, on the back side of the park, she had indeed crossed over from the right side of the tracks to the wrong side. Streets lined with houses that were little more than shacks lay on the other side of this hidden grove. Reed had grown up in one of those houses. His mother and sister still lived there.

Reed spread the blanket on the ground, then set the tape player to the side and pushed the “Play” button. Soft and low, a jazz tune began, a sweet reminder of last night.

Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t as if she and Reed hadn’t been together before. They had been—yesterday, last night, and again early this morning.

“I spoke to Daddy, and he’s agreed to talk to Frank Nelson about reopening the Blalock murder case,” Ella said.

“You’re kidding,” Reed laughed.

“No, I’m not kidding.” Ella sat on the blanket, crossing her legs at the ankles. “When I saw you earlier today, you didn’t mention that my father paid you a visit this morning.”

“I’m surprised he mentioned it to you.” Reed lay flat on his back and crossed his arms behind his head.

“He said that when he hit you, you didn’t hit him back. I think by showing him that you could control your temper, you impressed Daddy.”

“I seriously doubt that I impressed Webb Porter,” Reed said. “He’s just pacifying you, Ella, if he’s told you that he’ll help me.”

Ella stretched out beside Reed and looked up at the sky. With sundown, nighttime hurried to take charge, darkening the sky and cooling the temperature. The moon appeared, pale and almost transparent.

“Think what you will,” she said. “But I know my father. If he said he’ll speak to Frank Nelson, he will.

“Whatever you say, babe.” He eased up, bracing himself on one elbow as he leaned over her. “Right now, I don’t want to talk about the chief of police or your daddy.”

“What do you want to do?” she asked, her body already tightening with anticipation.

“I want to kiss you, Miss Ella,” he told her.

“Is that all you want to do, just kiss me?”

“That will be enough to start with; then I’m sure we’ll think of what to do next.”

“I’m sure we will.”

Webb Porter sat alone in his den, a bottle of bourbon resting beside his chair, and an empty glass in his hand. The armchair stood near the window, positioned with one arm to the window and the other to the room. There had been a time when harming Webb would never have been an option. But that time had long since passed. Perhaps, by being very careful and taking precise aim, the shot wouldn’t kill him but only severely wound him. Reed Conway had been alone in the room above the garage less than twenty minutes ago, so it stood to reason he was still there. Alone. Without an alibi. Whether the bullet killed Webb or merely wounded him, the mission would be accomplished. Reed would be charged with a crime and sent back to prison, thus ending any chances of having the old Blalock murder case reopened.

I must be very careful. Can’t let Webb see a shadow outside the window. Wait for the right moment…when he turns this way. I must make the shot count. I can’t risk two shots. Webb might see me. And if he lives, he could identify me. Take a deep breath. Count to ten, then aim and pull the trigger. This close, I can’t miss.

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The moment Ella saw the flashing lights of the police cars in her driveway, her heart caught in her throat. Oh, God, please, let everyone be all right.

She whizzed her Jag around the corner, then came to a screeching halt at the edge of the sidewalk. Frank Nelson stood on the front porch talking to two uniformed policemen. The moment he saw Ella jump out of her car, he came down the front steps and onto the brick walkway to meet her.

“What’s happened?” she asked.

Frank grasped her shoulders. “It’s bad. I won’t try to kid you. Your father’s been shot, but he’s alive.”

Ella gasped. Tears lodged in her throat. “How? When? Who?”

“About an hour ago,” Frank said. “Your mother and Viola heard the shot and Miss Carolyn sent Viola downstairs to see what had happened. Viola found Webb and called nine-one-one immediately.”

“You said it was bad—how bad?”

“He got hit in the chest, pretty close to his heart,” Frank told her. “They rushed him straight to Bryant County Hospital. One of my boys can drive you over there right now.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

He nodded, then released her.

“Oh, Lord,” Ella cried. “Mother! She must be out of her mind with worry. I’ll have to see her before I leave.”

“Viola has taken Miss Carolyn to the hospital,” Frank said. “She insisted on going. She’s upset, but holding it together pretty good. You know what a strong woman your mother is.”

Ella nodded again.

“Goodman!” Frank called out, and a dark-haired policeman in his mid-twenties came running.

“Yes sir, Chief?”

“I want you to drive Judge Porter to Bryant County Hospital.”

“Yes, sir.” Officer Goodman turned to Ella. “Ready whenever you are, ma’am.”

She followed the officer to his patrol car. When he opened the door, she slid onto the front seat. He eased the vehicle out into the street and headed toward downtown Spring Creek. None of this seemed real. But it was real. Someone had shot her father. But who? And why? Please, God, don’t let him die. The very thought was unbearable. Since her earliest memories, Webb Porter had been the center of her world—a doting father, who called her “princess” and made her feel like one.

She wished she could phone Reed and tell him that she needed him desperately. Odd that he was the one person she wanted at a time like this. But even if he would be willing to come to the hospital and hold her hand—which she doubted he would—he would hardly be welcomed by her family. They’d probably even accuse him of shooting her father. But they’d be wrong. No one knew better than she that this was one crime Reed Conway most definitely hadn’t committed.