Outside the Law

“Doesn’t 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 couldn’t 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 who’d 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. “It’s in his best interest to cooperate,” he said. “There’s gonna be a warrant, and I’ll 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.

“You’re too late,” Celeste said. “Missed the show. Did you know our Mitch has a half brother? And a cop, at that?”

“No, I didn’t. What happened here?”

“I’ll explain,” Beth said. “But let’s 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 didn’t 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. Coot’s Bayou. Did you know he was from a place called Coot’s 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.”

“It’s not like he’s a criminal. He’s 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 he’s 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.”

“That’s 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 Coot’s Bayou and answer the questions.”

“I can try. But honestly…you’re the one who knows him better.”

“And you’re the lawyer. You know how to persuade juries and get witnesses to admit stuff.”

“We’ll talk to him together,” Raleigh said decisively.

Beth nodded. “Okay. Let’s 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 guy’s face was far from friendly. He was loving every minute of the exchange. There is bad blood between those two.”

MITCHWASSOSTEAMED about his brother’s high-handed prank that he didn’t 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 didn’t want to see or talk to anyone.

He was supposed to be searching for a missing witness pertaining to another investigator’s 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 Mitch’s house. Walking into Mitch’s 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.

He’d done it on purpose, of course—to 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 couldn’t 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. Today’s scent was green-apple. She liked to wear all different kinds of perfumes, mostly botanical scents like kiwi and watermelon and vanilla. He’d 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 you’ll 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 can’t let that happen.”

“That won’t happen,” he assured her. At least, he didn’t think so. “My brother was just trying to piss me off. They don’t have any evidence.”

“They do have evidence,” Beth nearly exploded. “If you were the last person known to see the victim alive, that’s plenty of evidence to bring you in for questioning. You’re only making things worse. If you keep sticking your head in the sand—”