Charges? Mitch had been arrested and charged with a crime? Her throat tightened as she recalled the last guy shed dated, whod also had a criminal past. Vince had explained away the assault charges, claiming it was all a misunderstanding, and shed been stupid enough to fall for it. Until hed broken her jaw.
She gave her head a quick, involuntary shake. No way was Mitch in the same boat as Vince. Hed freely admitted hed been a wild kid, but Beth had pictured him pulling pranks, maybe spray-painting a bridge or decorating trees with toilet paper. Shed known nothing about car theft, but that wasnt violent. Still, it was bad.
Im not here about the theft per se, Dwayne said. You had a friend with you that night. Robby Racine. That right?
Abruptly Celeste came out of her chair, proving shed been listening keenly despite her show of disinterest. She was well into her seventies, with wild gray curls and a spare, wiry body that she stuffed into the most improbable outfits. Today it was a zebra-striped, bat-wing shirt, black leggings and red boots. But anyone who knew her was scared of her. Mitch, dont say another word without a lawyer present.
Mitch turned to Celeste. This is my brother.
Half brother, Dwayne said.
Beth thought the distinction odd, as if Dwayne wanted to deny the relationship.
Whatever, I dont think hes here to arrest me. But when Mitch returned his attention to Dwayne, he looked less than sure of himself. Are you?
Im just here to talk. So, about Robby
Robby Racine was with me that night, Mitch confirmed.
You happen to know where he is?
Robby? Good gravy, no. Havent seen him since that night. Getting arrested for stealing a car would have been his third felony. Hed have done time for sure. He took off. Mitch seemed to relax slightly. I figure hes in Mexico.
You figured wrong. He turned up the other day.
No kidding. Whats he up to these days?
Nothing. Thats the point. He turned up in a shallow grave on some land owned by your mother. And you were the last one to see him alive.
Beths head spun. This could not be happening. Mitch, her Mitch, a murder suspect? She simply could not picture it. He was so nice, so laid-back. He was a computer geek. Since when did geeks go around stealing cars and killing people? It was ridiculous.
Where did you find Robby? Mitch asked. My mom never owned any land that I knew of. She and Daddy were poor as cockroaches at a homeless shelter, you know that.
Hell, Mitch, I dont know the details. I volunteered to come here, pick you up and take you to Coots Bayou for questioning. Thought it might go down a little easier if you saw a friendly face.
Mitch looked as if he wanted to spit. Friendly, my ass. Youre loving this. And if you want me to come to Coots Bayou for anything, youll need a warrant.
Celeste pushed the intercom button. Raleigh, wherever you are, get your ass into the lobby. Stat.
Mitch, Beth said carefully, dont you think you should clear this up?
Judging from the surprised look he gave her, hed forgotten she was thereand didnt seem to welcome her contribution. I dont owe the Coots Bayou police anything.
They just want to talk, Dwayne said.
Thats what they always say, Celeste interjected. You think we were born yesterday, sonny?
Celeste, thank you, but Ill handle this. Mitch focused on his brother. Dwayne, whatever youre selling, Im not buying. I havent even lived in Louisiana for seven years!
Doesnt matter. We think Robby died the night that car was stolen.
Mitch looked over at Beth. Gauging her reaction? And what did he see on her face? She could hide her emotions when dealing with the press, or in court, but when dealing with her own life, every thought that whisked through her mind showed plainly in her expression.
The revulsion she felt was for the crime, not Mitch, who couldnt possibly have done it, but would he be able to tell the difference?
Let me know when you have a warrant. Mitch turned on his heel and sauntered out of the lobby, appearing completely unbothered. But his gait was slightly stiffer than normal, his jaw set more firmly. Anyone whod spent as much time studying Mitch as she had could notice these things.
Had he fooled his own half brother?
Dwayne looked first at Celeste, who stared back with open challenge, then switched his gaze to Beth, perhaps seeking someone with a more open mind. Its in his best interest to cooperate, he said. Theres gonna be a warrant, and Ill have to come back with it tomorrow. He turned and exited to the street.
By the time Raleigh arrived, whooshing into the hall with her pen, notebook and digital recorder ready for battle, it was all over.
Youre too late, Celeste said. Missed the show. Did you know our Mitch has a half brother? And a cop, at that?
No, I didnt. What happened here?
Ill explain, Beth said. But lets go to the ladies room where I can have a meltdown in private.
Raleigh said nothing until they were safely inside the ladies lounge on the second floor. Raleigh and Beth had held quite a few cry fests in here over the past few years. It was furnished with tufted sofas and gilt-framed mirrors, but its best feature was a big box of Kleenex.
He said no? Raleigh guessed correctly.
He said he was busy. Beth slumped onto a sofa, swallowing back the tears that threatened. What if Mitch got arrested?
He didnt issue a counteroffer? Raleigh sounded genuinely perplexed.
Never mind the date. His half brother was there asking a lot of questions about something that happened years ago when Mitch lived in I can hardly say it. Coots Bayou. Did you know he was from a place called Coots Bayou?
Seems I heard about it at some point.
Did you know he stole a car?
He was a teenager at the time. The charges were dropped.
So you did know. You should have told me.
Its not like hes a criminal. Hes a good person, Beth.
Maybe. Deep down, Beth felt that Mitch was good, not that she could trust her own instincts where men were concerned. But now hes being accused of murder. His own half brother seems to think he might have killed the guy
Whoa, whoa. Murder? Start from the beginning.
Beth recounted the conversation between Mitch and his brother as best she could. Raleigh listened attentively, taking quick notes, firmly in lawyer mode.
When Beth was finished, Raleigh pulled off her glasses and massaged her temples. He needs to cooperate. He needs to clear this up.
Thats what I told him. But instead he got angry. I never saw Mitch get angry before.
Everybody has buttons. Obviously Mitch and his brother have some issues.
You have to talk to him, Raleigh. Convince him to hire himself a lawyer and go to Coots Bayou and answer the questions.
I can try. But honestlyyoure the one who knows him better.
And youre the lawyer. You know how to persuade juries and get witnesses to admit stuff.
Well talk to him together, Raleigh said decisively.
Well talk to him together, Raleigh said decisively.
Beth nodded. Okay. Lets do it now.
They exited the bathroom, but in the hallway Raleigh paused as if something just occurred to her. Why do you think the half brother showed up with the news?
He said he thought it would go down easier if Mitch saw a friendly face. But that guys face was far from friendly. He was loving every minute of the exchange. There is bad blood between those two.
MITCHWASSOSTEAMED about his brothers high-handed prank that he didnt return to the bull pen. He needed quiet, not the controlled chaos of the large, open area, where the Project Justice junior investigators and interns worked. He headed upstairs to his private office, shut the door and collapsed into the leather chair behind his desk.
He didnt want to see or talk to anyone.
He was supposed to be searching for a missing witness pertaining to another investigators case, but not even the prospect of losing himself in online research could distract him from his irritation.
Dwayne could have called. He could have emailed him or texted. He could have showed up at Mitchs house. Walking into Mitchs place of business and announcing to everyone within earshot that he was a murder suspect was the kind of cruelty Dwayne had always gone for.
Hed done it on purpose, of courseto humiliate Mitch as thoroughly as possible.
Mitch slammed his fist into his left palm. Hell, why was this happening now? He had a fight scheduled for Friday night, and he couldnt afford to lose focus, not if he wanted to continue his winning streak.
He needed to sweat, to work out the anger and frustration. Beating the crap out of a punching bag, pushing his body until every muscle burned, was the only sane way he knew how to deal with stress. It sure as hell beat joyriding in stolen cars, or downing a case of beer.
After a futile hour, he decided concentrating was impossible. He closed his laptop and loaded it into his backpack. No one would notice if he cut out a couple of hours early, and he could put in a few more hours of research tonight at home. Right now, he had to get out of here.
He was heading for the door when someone knocked. Damn, no clean getaway. He yanked the door open.
Beth and Raleigh. Neither of them was smiling.
Hey. I was just on my way out
This will only take a few moments. Raleigh pushed her way inside his office without invitation. Beth followed, and Mitch inhaled deeply as she brushed past him. Todays scent was green-apple. She liked to wear all different kinds of perfumes, mostly botanical scents like kiwi and watermelon and vanilla. Hed made a game out of trying to guess the scent of the day.
But the stubborn expression on her pretty, feminine face told him this was not the time for games. He knew that expression. He was in for a fight.
Mitch smiled his best good-ol-boy smile. Ladies, I have a dentist appointment
So youll be five minutes late, Raleigh said. As chief legal counsel for Project Justice, I have something to say. Now, you might not care if a posse of Louisiana cops shows up tomorrow with sirens and bullhorns and guns flashing, but I do. If you get arrested for so much as littering, it reflects badly on the foundation, and I cant let that happen.
That wont happen, he assured her. At least, he didnt think so. My brother was just trying to piss me off. They dont have any evidence.
They do have evidence, Beth nearly exploded. If you were the last person known to see the victim alive, thats plenty of evidence to bring you in for questioning. Youre only making things worse. If you keep sticking your head in the sand
He held up one hand to stop the tirade. Ive got this under control, okay? I know how the local cops operate in Coots Bayou. I worked for them for a few years. Theyre just shaking the bushes, hoping something will fall out.
Im not falling out. Ill see you tomorrow. He turned his back on them, daring them to try and stop him from exiting his own office. If he didnt find a punching bag soon, he was going to lose it. But he heard no steps behind him, no clatter of high heels on the polished wood floor.
It was a fine spring day, cool and crisp in a way perpetually muggy Houston seldom saw. Hed ridden the Harley to work, and as he settled into his eight-mile commute home, he hoped the wind in his face would clear his mind. But when he pulled into his driveway, he was every bit as tense and angry as when hed left work.
He didnt bother putting his bike in the garage. He stepped inside his small ranch house long enough to shed his jeans and golf shirt and throw on shorts and a T-shirt with the arms ripped out. Barefoot, he headed outside again, straight through the backyard to the gate that led to the adjacent property.
Mitch lived next to a played-out oil field. Hed bought the little house out near Hobby Airport for a song because most people didnt care for the sound of pumps and the occasional smell of raw petroleum. That was three years ago, and now the pumps were silent and still. The oil reserves were empty.
The quiet wouldnt last forever. Even now, the oil company that owned the mineral rights to this two-hundred-acre chunk of land was in the process of acquiring more sophisticated drills and pumps that could go deeper into the ground. But for now the field was still and peaceful except for the breeze rustling through weeds that had reclaimed the ground and the occasional bird chirp.
Most of the old machinery had been removed, but one rusted grasshopper pump was left, abandoned, and Mitch had turned it into his private gym. It had just the ambiance he needed to train for a cage fight.
Mitch normally started his workout with some general fitness trainingpush-ups, jumping rope or agility drills with resistance bands wrapped around his thighs. But today he skipped all that. He tugged on a pair of four-ounce gloves, which offered minimal protection for his hand but left his fingers free, then went to work on the heavy punching bag hed suspended from the pump.
Jab. Jab. Left hook. Right uppercut. Knee to the solar plexus. Head shot. Body shot. Like always, he imagined an opponent. Usually, he visualized the guy he was scheduled to fight. He would study any videos he could find of the guy, imprint his fighting style into his brain, then picture all the various ways he could beat him.
Today, his opponent was not Ricky Quick Death Marquita. Today, the face he saw was his brothers.
Dwayne was the one whod motivated him to learn to fightnot by encouraging him, but by beating him up a few times when they were kids. Bigger, older, Dwayne had had no trouble besting his little brother.
Mitch continued to rain punches and kicks onto the hapless bag filled with sand and gel, pausing only long enough to whip off his T-shirt after hed gotten good and warmed up. Roundhouse kick to the head. Elbow to the chin. Inside crescent kick to the knee. He kept going long past exhaustion. Sometimes, the winner of a cage fight was simply the one who could stay upright the longest. Fighting through exhaustion was a key skill.
If he and Dwayne fought today, things would be different. Dwayne still outweighed Mitch by a good thirty pounds. But Mitch was sure that if they ever met in a chain-link cageor in a back alleyhe could smear the mat with his brother.
CHAPTER TWO