and ran to catch up with the others.
Robyn’s smile faded. Why didn’t Ford call and tell her something?
A soft tap sounded on the door, and Robyn’s throat constricted with apprehension. Could it be Ford? Had he come in person to deliver bad news? But Ford wouldn’t be so tentative, she reasoned, and then she saw who it was.
She wasn’t particularly anxious to see the woman who had replaced her in her ex-husband’s eyes. Trina was everything Robyn was not—petite, curvaceous, exotic. She could also be a royal pain in the rear. But it was her husband in prison, Robyn reminded herself. It had been Trina’s idea to contact Project Justice, and then to approach Ford personally, since he’d grown up in their town.
Robyn opened the door. “Hello, Trina.”
Trina’s eyes were shiny with imminent tears. “I couldn’t wait to hear from you. I was going crazy just sit ting at home and doing nothing.”
Trina hovered at the doorway, peeking past Robyn into the classroom. She wore a short sundress that showed off her spectacular legs and matching sandals, her dark hair stylishly mussed, every eyelash in place. No matter what was going on in her life, she always man aged to present a polished facade in public.
Robyn felt like a bum in comparison wearing her clay-stained jeans, her shoulder-length hair pulled back into a bandanna.
“Come on in. The kids are gone and I was just straightening up. I haven’t heard anything yet.”
Trina fairly vibrated with nervous energy as she click-clacked in on her heels.
“Why is it taking so long?” Trina said on a moan. She looked around, maybe for a place to sit, but in the end she just stood there. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trusted Ford. Maybe he forgot about us and went golfing or something.”
“He didn’t forget.” Of that Robyn was sure, though he probably wished he could. He sure hadn’t looked happy two nights ago.
“Are you done for the day?” Trina fanned herself. The studio was always hot in the summer, both from the kilns and a lack of insulation against the blazing Texas sun. “I’ll buy you a beer.”
Robyn didn’t really feel like having a beer at two in the afternoon. But Trina obviously needed companionship. “Where do you want to go?”
“Somewhere cheap,” Trina said. “I have to watch my spending. The lawyers put a pretty good dent in our bank account, and obviously with Eldon in prison I have very little coming in.”
Robyn tried to hide her surprise. Eldon had been worth millions. All of those appeals must have been costly, but could he and Trina have gone through that much money? Enough that Trina had to watch her pennies?
People had said Trina, a hairstylist, had married El don for his money. Eldon’s high-society friends had never embraced her, and his parents had liked her even less than they’d liked Robyn. But Trina certainly hadn’t balked at spending whatever was necessary to free her husband.
Since Robyn had been similarly judged, she tended to believe Trina really loved Eldon. The two women never would have been friends under normal circumstances, but they’d come to know each other during Eldon’s or deal, and Trina had been kind to Robyn when she’d grieved over the loss of her child.
Robyn never had been one to turn up her nose at friendship. Friends were in short supply right now. Many had deserted her after the divorce. Others had drifted away after the kidnapping, feeling uncomfortable around Robyn and her grief. The few close friends who remained thought she was insane for trying to free the man who killed her son.
Public sentiment against Eldon had been incredibly strong and still was.
As they reached Trina’s white Cadillac, Robyn’s cell phone rang. The ring-tone was an earthy hip-hop song one of her students had downloaded for her when she’d left her phone unguarded. Trina froze as Robyn fumbled for the phone.
“Yes?”
“It’s Ford Hyatt. Can I meet with you and Trina?”
“Now?”
“As soon as possible. I’m at a bar and grill called Pacifica. Do you know where it is?”
“Yes. We can be there in half an hour.”
“I’ll be watching for you.” He disconnected. A man of few words.
“Was it him?” Trina asked eagerly. “Is Project Justice taking on the case?”
“He wants to meet with us.”
Trina clamped her eyes shut. “That sounds like bad news. He would just tell you over the phone if it was good news, right?”
“Let’s not assume the worst,” Robyn said, though she suspected Trina was right. Ford had sounded solemn. He might want to deliver bad news in person, to soften the blow. But then, Ford had turned into a solemn man. Again, she wondered what circumstances had caused that bleak look in his eye, and why she’d had to track him down at a bar where he was drinking—alone.
PACIFICA WASN’T THE SORT of place where Ford hung out. It was an upscale suburban bar, with a posh, funky decor that appealed to Houston’s young professionals and where the martinis cost ten dollars and came in pretty colors.
Raleigh had chosen it. Raleigh Shinn was the senior attorney at Project Justice. She would consult on the Jasperson case, file the necessary papers and make court appearances. Ford liked working with Raleigh because she was thorough, knowledgeable and a hard worker. On the other hand, she was utterly humorless. He’d never seen her wear anything but a severe suit, her reddish hair slicked back into a tight bun. She had a pretty face and a stunning figure, but she downplayed her looks to a ridiculous degree.
As they sat at a corner table waiting for Robyn and Trina, Raleigh nursed a club soda.
“They’re late,” Raleigh said.
“Probably stuck in traffic.”
“I’ve been digging around in the backgrounds of these two ladies. The first Mrs. Jasperson has a juvenile record, sealed. The second is no angel, either. She’s been charged with everything from public intoxication to disturbing the peace to solicitation.”
“Solicitation? I thought those were just rumors.” What was it with rich men and their prostitutes?
“The charge didn’t stick. I think she was more of a party girl—sleeping with rich men in return for nice dinners out, clothes, jewelry. Eldon apparently had an appetite for bad girls.”
“But by the time Robyn married him, she’d turned her life around.” He’d done some digging around of his own. Robyn had gone to college and was now a teacher. Who would have guessed?
“Robyn, is it? First names?”
“She’s an old friend. Well, acquaintance, anyway. I can tell you what’s in her juvey record. Shoplifting, underage drinking, misdemeanor possession. But she went through one of those ‘Scared Straight’ programs and turned herself around.”
Raleigh raised one skeptical eyebrow at Ford. “How do you know so much?”
“I went to high school with her,” he admitted. “Green Prairie High was a good school, not too many troublemakers. Robyn was the exception.” She had alternately fascinated him and horrified him. That a pretty, intelligent girl like Robyn would have such disregard for her future, that she would choose to hang around slackers, losers and dopers, confused the hell out of him.
He’d tried reaching out to her. He’d caught her alone for once, sitting in the cafeteria with a crummy school-lunch taco in one hand, the Cliff’s Notes for Hamlet in the other. It was shortly after she’d returned from a stint in juvey.
He’d set his tray down across from her, then wished he’d rehearsed what he would say beforehand. Normally he wasn’t tongue-tied around girls. But Robyn, who seemed more adult and worldly