Free Before I Sleep by Rachel Lee Page B

thousand times, Carey. Christ, maybe a million times. It sure felt like it.”
    The reference to the last days of their relationship struck her as almost brutal, but she forced herself to ignore it. “Seamus—”
    “Is that why you called me? To argue about this again? Jesus, Carey, there's nothing left to say that we both haven't said.”
    “But there
is
something more. Maybe.”
    She had to give him credit. His face didn't shutter, the way it had too many times in the past. He grew still, attentive, listening.
    “The other night on my show I got a call from someone who said that John Otis didn't do it, and that he was going to prove it.”
    “So? Anybody could say that. All it takes is one crackpot.”
    “
I
know that. I deal with crackpots all the time in this job. And that's all I thought he was. I even poked fun at him a little.”
    He nodded slowly, waiting.
    “Did you hear about the break-in at Tricia Summers's house the night before last?”
    “The Channel Five news anchor? I heard something about it on the news. So?”
    “Ed Rich, our station news anchor, asked me about it yesterday. He wanted to know if I could get any inside information out of one of my friends since the Sheriff's Department isn't saying very much.”
    “Hardly surprising. Summers probably doesn't want to be a news item.”
    “I thought so, too. I mean, maybe she had some sex toys stolen, or some sexy photos. That's what I told Ed, but I agreed to check it out anyway and see if I could find some little thing that would give him a scoop.”
    Seamus sighed. “God, I love how the media work.”
    There wasn't much she could say to that, since at one time she'd felt pretty much the same way. But the remark put her on the defensive. “I wasn't going to give him anything scandalous,” she said. “But it wouldn't hurt to see if there was something he could use.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    She wanted to bean him, but decided it wasn't worth one-to-four for battery. “Anyway, I got in touch with a friend at the State Attorney's Office, and he looked into it for me.”
    “And what lovely, scandalous little detail did you turn up?”
    “It's not scandalous, Seamus. It's frightening. Somebody went to all the trouble to break into her house and circumvent her alarm system to do just one thing: slash a nightgown with a razor blade.”
    “Maybe he got interrupted before he could do anything else. It may be sick, Carey, but it doesn't have anything to do with Otis.”
    “Possible not. But maybe you've forgotten. Tricia Summers was the legal reporter for Channel Five during the Otis trial. She did a live segment from the courthouse every day on the evening news.”
    “I remember. So?”
    “Do you remember how slanted her reports were? Do you remember her standing there after the verdict came in and telling all her viewers that it was a good day for the Tampa Bay area and a triumph for the justice system? The other stations were more matter-of-fact about the verdict, but she was practically cheerleading.”
    “Okay, so she was connected. A lot of other people were connected, too. It doesn't mean anything.”
    “The nightgown the guy slashed was pink silk.”
    “So?”
    Carissa stared at him, her insides rolling as her mind recalled images she would far rather have forgotten. She could still remember the feel of the plastic evidence bag in her hands as she showed the nightgown to the jury. “Maybe you've forgotten. The nightgown Linda Kline was wearing the night she was slashed to death was pink silk.”
    “It was so blood-soaked I…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Coincidence, Carey. I'm sure a lot of women have pink silk nightgowns.”
    “That may be. But Tricia Summers doesn't. The nightgown that was slashed didn't belong to her.”
    Thunder boomed outside, and not even the soundproofing of the booth could entirely muffle the sound. It seemed to echo in Seamus's head as Carey's words sank home. He felt a shift, like an earthquake,