Courthouse Steps. Ginger Chambers

Amanda felt her breath grow shallow. She, too, might suddenly have gained forty pounds and forty years. Instinctively her hand reached out toward the professor, whether to warn him or to ask for protection, she didn’t know.

      The professor glanced at her curiously, then he followed the direction of her gaze.

      “It’s him,” she whispered tightly. “Ethan Trask.”

      “Introduce me,” Peter said.

      “I can’t! I haven’t met him yet!”

      “Then you’d better introduce yourself.” Peter seemed amused by the turn of events. Or rather, by Amanda’s reaction. “He’s not a god,” he said. “He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like I do.” He glanced at the beige trousers Amanda wore. “Just like you do.”

      “I sit on the end of the bed and jam both my feet in at the same instant,” Amanda replied shakily.

      Peter’s smile was no longer hidden. “Then that makes you special. Introduce yourself!”

      The men were almost upon them. Amanda swallowed. She had already felt the sweep of Ethan Trask’s gaze and the much friendlier estimation of his companion. Of the two, she would much rather deal with the shorter man. She took a step sideways, signaling a desire to communicate.

      “Mr. Trask?” she said. To her own ears, her voice sounded dry, strained. She could hear the fake attempt at confidence.

      Up close, the special prosecutor was even more impressive than he had been the day before. He seemed taller, more intense, more determined, more handsome. His eyes were neither black nor brown, but an intimidating combination of the two. His dark brown hair was perfectly groomed, a tendency to curl tolerated but not encouraged. His features might have been carefully sculpted to give the image of strength—straight nose, firm jawline, sturdy chin, a mouth that was at the same time sensual and austere. The cut of his perfectly tailored suit bespoke a body that was muscular, athletic.

      Amanda’s heart rate accelerated as he turned to look at her. Under his direct gaze she felt like a rabbit caught in a snare. “I, ah... My name is Amanda Baron, Mr. Trask, and I represent—”

      Her name seemed to hit him like a lightning strike. It wasn’t so much that he jolted physically, but his mind seemed to snap to attention, focusing solely on her. It was all Amanda could do to continue. “I represent Judson Ingalls. This is Peter Williams, retired professor of law at the University of Illinois. He’s going to—”

      “Amanda Baron.” Ethan Trask repeated her name as if he had heard nothing else she’d said.

      Amanda smiled nervously. “Yes. I represent—”

      “I know who you represent.”

      Amanda shot a look at Peter, who in turn was studying the assistant attorney general. Her gaze then went to Ethan Trask’s companion. She was searching for a kind word, a kind face. She found it in the shorter man when he smiled at her. Still Amanda remained confused. She didn’t understand exactly what was happening. Ethan Trask sounded angry. Again attempting civility, she held out her hand.

      There was a long moment before he responded, a moment that came close to insult. When finally his fingers closed over hers, they were brisk, businesslike. Amanda was quick to break contact. Her arm fell back to her side, but her hand still tingled.

      “My assistant from the DCI, Carlos Varadero.” Ethan Trask indicated the man at his side.

      Amanda knew that the Division of Criminal Investigation was the investigative arm of the State Department of Justice. A crack unit, it provided assistance to the attorney general’s office—which meant that she had been correct the first time she saw him: if he was affiliated with Ethan Trask, he was dangerous, smile or no smile.

      Amanda shook his hand quickly, as did Peter. For a moment nothing happened. All of them seemed ill at ease. Then Ethan Trask said quietly, “I’m going to file a motion to disqualify you as defense counsel in this case. Since you are the granddaughter of both the defendant and the deceased, I consider your role inappropriate.”

      Now it was Amanda’s turn to reel. She blinked at the unexpectedness of his attack. “But...that’s not fair!” she cried.

      “Not fair?” Ethan Trask repeated, pouncing on the word. “What you and your grandfather are trying to do is what’s not fair, Miss Baron. The law does not play favorites.”

      Amanda blinked again. She took a step back toward Peter. What was the man talking about? She was the one who had resisted representing her grandfather. She was the one who had done everything in the world to avoid her appointment.

      Peter spoke for her. “The accused has a right to the counsel of his choice, Mr. Trask.”

      “Ordinarily, yes. But this is not an ordinary case.”

      “It’s a fundamental right,” Peter insisted.

      “We’ll see what Judge Griffen has to say.” Ethan Trask’s attention shifted back to Amanda. “I’m filing the motion,” he said levelly, scorching her with the intensity of his gaze. Then he motioned to Carlos Varadero that they should continue on their way. After a brief nod, Carlos fell into step at his side.

      Amanda was still speechless once she and Peter were alone again. She watched the progress of the two men. After consulting what had to be diagrams and photographs pulled from an envelope Carlos Varadero carried, they proceeded to the spot where she and Peter had stood earlier—the site of Margaret’s one-time grave.

      Amanda’s emotions were a jumble. Shock and amazement warred with affront.

      Peter took her arm and continued to trudge up the hillside. “A rather intense young man,” he pronounced.

      “He’s got to be six or eight years older than I am, and I’m almost thirty!” Amanda protested.

      “I’m speaking from the great advantage of my years. Once a person passes sixty-five, nearly everyone seems young.”

      Amanda stopped, anger having overtaken all her other emotions. “What did he mean, Peter? What does he think Granddad and I are trying to do? My only goal is to mount a successful defense, to be sure that my grandfather doesn’t go to jail for the rest of his life for a murder he didn’t commit!”

      “Obviously Mr. Trask thinks you’re placing an unfair burden on the state, and he’s giving you fair warning of what he intends to do. I wondered if he’d latch on to that.”

      “You mean you had an idea that he might?”

      “If he’s as good a lawyer as everyone says, yes.”

      “You might have warned me,” she complained.

      Peter smiled. “I didn’t want to frighten you unduly.”

      “I’m not afraid of him! At least, not anymore.” Amanda threw a look back over her shoulder toward the two men, who happened, at that moment, to be looking up at them. “Humph,” she sniffed, then she jerked her head around and walked proudly on.

      The man had two eyes, two ears, one nose, one mouth. He was just an ordinary human being, nothing more, nothing less. All she had to do over the next weeks was to keep telling herself that!

      * * *

      CARLOS NUDGED Ethan’s arm and pointed to the two people making their way slowly up the hillside. A slender young woman with bright chestnut hair and a portly man dressed in a rumpled suit, who walked as if his knees hurt.

      At that moment, the woman turned, and for the space of a second, the distance between them evaporated. Ethan again saw those huge, dark blue eyes that seemed to fill her face. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but there was something about her that was arresting. A small, straight nose, firm rounded chin, delicately carved cheeks—her features were a blend of feminine strengths. It was the look in her eyes, though, that had stopped him, forced him to notice her. Besides quick intelligence and a certain pride,