The Accused Read Online Free PDF Page B

smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Sweet and sour,” he said. “Just like me.”

6
    W ILL C HAMBERS SLOWLY WHEELED OFF the country road and onto the long, winding driveway that led to his home. His house was perched atop a rise in the Virginia countryside that had, since the Civil War, been called Generals’ Hill. The newly built structure was a huge, split-log house looking over to the Blue Ridge Mountains. Will had it built after his pre–Civil War mansion had burned to the ground a year-and-a-half after Audra’s death.
    As he slowly motored up the driveway, his tires crunching in the gravel, Will glanced up toward the front of the porch that wrapped around the house. He noticed Fiona’s Saab convertible parked there.
    Fiona’s meeting with her business manager and agent must have ended earlier than they thought, Will mused. In anticipation of her meeting running late, he had picked up some deli sandwiches and soup for a late-night dinner. But he wasn’t hungry now. And he wasn’t even sure what he was going to tell his wife about his meeting with the DC police department. Communication was key to their relationship…he knew that. At the same time, what he had to share seemed destined only to cast gloom and chaos into the middle of their marriage.
    For a few moments Will sat in his car with the engine running, staring at the front door of the log house. Then something at the door caught his eye.
    Fiona swung the front door open and stepped out onto the porch. She was still wearing a baseball cap with her hair tucked under it. She must have just arrived.
    She waved with one hand, hesitantly, and then peered toward Will. Then she broke into a broad smile. Sweeping the baseball cap up off her head, she let her dark hair cascade down and motioned for her husband to come in.
    Will grabbed the grocery bag of food and trudged up the varnished wood steps that led to the porch. Fiona was in the doorway and didn’t wait for him to enter. She surrounded him with her arms and gave him a big, long kiss. Then she led him into the large open kitchen and sat him down, and then sat down across from him at the large oak table. The last light of day was now streaming through the skylights and, off in the distance, the sun was setting with a brilliant outpouring of red and pink.
    Fiona urged her husband to tell her everything about his meeting with the police.
    Will went through it all in cold, factual detail. The death of the inmate…his confession as one of the assailants involved in Audra’s murder…the certainty of his involvement…and the existence of another perpetrator who, as of yet, had not been located. And, with crushing finality, he described the likely motivation for the murder—his successful lawsuit against the neo-Nazi organization in New York.
    As he talked, Fiona held her peace. But he knew she wanted to speak—to respond to what he was telling her. He had learned to detect the signs—she would purse her lips together slightly and her eyes would begin dancing.
    After he had finished he held his hands open but said nothing, as if to indicate he had said his piece—and there was nothing more to say.
    â€œAnd?” Fiona said, her voice rising slightly in a question.
    â€œAnd…” he answered, “that’s it. That’s all I know. That’s all they told me.”
    Another few seconds of silence went by, and then she spoke again.
    â€œAnd?” she added, this time more emphatically.
    â€œAnd what?” Will said, staring at the kitchen table.
    â€œ And —what is going on inside you as you’re dealing with all of this?” she asked with a slight edge of irritation in her voice.
    â€œI don’t know,” he responded vaguely. “I have absolutely no idea how I’m feeling right now.”
    A few seconds of silence went by, and then Fiona continued.
    â€œI’m not your dentist—and