Fatal Judgment Read Online Free PDF Page B

sharp jab to her stomach.
    Stephanie’s blood.
    Bile rose in her throat, and she gripped the edge of the sink again, willing the nausea to subside. She wouldn’t fall apart. Couldn’t fall apart. Her sister needed her. Had always needed her. That was what happened when a mother died young and there was a six-year age gap between siblings. And Liz had taken the responsibility seriously, doing her best to be more surrogate mom than big sister.
    Yet when it came to the most important decision of her sister’s life, her best hadn’t been good enough. Ignoring her advice, Stephanie had married Alan—and become his battered wife. It had taken the impending arrival of a baby to give her the courage, with Liz’s support, to issue an ultimatum and walk away.
    Liz had applauded her decision. Had believed that now, her sister would be safe.
    Instead, she was fighting for her life.
    And her blood is on your hands.
    As Liz stared at her fingers, that harsh indictment echoed in her mind.
    Once again, her stomach twisted into a knot.
    Adjusting the water as hot as she could stand it, Liz stuck her hands under the stream and scrubbed at her fingers. Determined to scour every trace of blood from her skin.
    If only she could do the same with the self-reproach that stained her soul.
    How could she not have seen Alan’s real character? How could she not have suspected he would resort to lethal violence if crossed? She dealt with criminals every day. Shouldn’t that experience have given her more insight?
    But her judgment had been lacking with Doug too. After living with him for five years, she should have realized the step she’d taken could send him over the edge.
    Liz tried to swallow past the bitter taste on her tongue. But it was no use. For five long years, her guilt over Doug’s death had weighed down her soul. A private burden, known only to her and God. Friends and colleagues hadn’t a clue about her culpability.
    Except, perhaps, for one man.
    Jake Taylor.
    Her hands stilled under the running water as she thought about the marshal who’d been assigned to protect her. She didn’t know much about him, other than a few stories of their college days relayed to her by Doug. When Jake had flown in for the wedding, she’d been too caught up in the last-minute details and excitement to do more than exchange a few words with her husband’s best man. But he’d seemed pleasant enough. His toast at the reception had been witty and warm, and there had been nothing in his demeanor to suggest he harbored any enmity toward her.
    In the intervening years, however, his attitude had undergone a dramatic shift. At the funeral, he’d been cool. Distant. Aloof. His stiff posture and stilted language during their brief exchange had spelled disapproval in capital letters.
    Since then, she’d often wondered what Doug had shared with Jake during their periodic phone visits to turn his buddy against her.
    But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that question.
    She turned off the water, dried her hands, and reached for her purse. Once this drama was over, she doubted she and Jake would have much contact. In the interim, she trusted him to do his job. As Doug had once commented, Jake seemed like the type who would wear a white hat and ride into Dodge. He might not like her, but he struck her as a suck-it-up kind of guy who took his professional responsibilities seriously. His opinion of her shouldn’t matter.
    Yet for some disturbing reason, it did.
    Forcing herself to refocus, Liz withdrew her comb and lipstick and made a halfhearted attempt to repair her appearance. But it was a losing battle. To restore any semblance of normalcy, she needed a hot shower, clean clothes, and a sound sleep.
    The first two she assumed she’d get in the next few hours.
    As for the latter . . . she suspected it would remain elusive for the foreseeable future.

     
    As Jake set the tray of scrounged-up food on the adjustable table beside the bed, he heard the