on to your parents if it will make them feel any better.”
Alexia stared at him in mute horror and he realized that, despite everything, the possibility of her sister ending up behind bars hadn’t hit home until this moment. She rubbed her forehead, as if trying to send away a sudden headache.
“The talk show hosts have been salivating at the possibility of Chloe in prison for the past couple of hours,” Alexia admitted. “The fact is, I was so angry at their outrageous comments that I dismissed everything they said as ridiculous.”
“Most of what they said probably was. Still, we have to manage the timing of your sister’s arrest—if it comes—in such a way that the police have no excuse to hold her in jail overnight while we wait for a bond hearing. That can be trickier than it sounds. Accused murderers are usually required to wait trial in custody, but I’m optimistic we can persuade a judge not to lock Chloe up.”
Alexia took a few seconds to absorb the horrifying prospect of her sister awaiting trial behind bars. Apparently, she couldn’t handle the implications and changed the topic. “It’s mind-blowing that the media can use Jason’s murder as entertainment,” she said. “Chloe was the most loyal wife you could imagine, but the TV reporting today managed to make her sound like a nympho on steroids. They interviewed every guy in Colorado she ever dated from the time she was sixteen and edited the sound bites so you’d have thought she spent her life hopping from bar to drunken party and back again. How the hell do they think she won her Olympic medals? By falling out of bed and whizzing down the ski slopes between parties? Have they any idea—any remote clue—what it takes to train for such dangerous and grueling races?”
The annoying thing about the media, Liam reflected cynically, was not that they were so often wrong, but that they were occasionally dead right. Alexia seemed to think Chloe was a saint; Sophie’s existence proved she was, at the very least, capable of breaking her marriage vows and committing adultery. He sneaked another glance at the top of his daughter’s head, which was all he could see since she was still coloring with fanatic concentration. He doubted if Sophie could hear what was being said and he reassured himself that there was no chance that a three-year-old—an age level that apparently had trouble distinguishing red from blue—would be able to grasp the significance of the conversation.
Liam forced himself to turn away from his daughter. There was no point in shattering Alexia’s glossy image of her sister. In fact, from a defense attorney’s point of view, family and relatives who firmly believed in a suspect’s innocence were valuable assets and he needed to bolster Alexia’s good opinion of her sister.
“The reporters are probably annoyed that they haven’t been able to find Chloe to interview her,” Liam said. “Unfortunately, when they can’t get hard information, they tend to move on to speculation.”
Alexia grimaced. “Yes, we learned that when Chloe was part of the Olympic ski team. In fact, I was thinking the best way to counteract the harmful publicity might be to choose one of the more sympathetic reporters and give them an exclusive interview.”
“Bad idea,” Liam said quickly. “Trust me, any sort of family interview right now would be a very bad idea.”
“Why?” Tom had joined them. He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and she leaned against him gratefully. “That’s what Chloe used to do when the sports journalists got on her case. Her PR rep would call a few journalists and get some positive articles out there.”
“This is different.” Liam tried not to sound impatient. “We’re not talking about putting a stop to rumors that Chloe is overtrained, or having a hard time with her left knee joint. We’re talking about avoiding an arrest for murdering her spouse.”
“We could find somebody friendly,” Tom persisted. “Somebody from ESPN who remembers her warmly—”
“Take my advice on this, no reporter is genuinely sympathetic to a suspected murderer. Worse, when the piece airs, the police would be watching and analyzing every word that comes out of Chloe’s mouth.”
“But all she’s going to say in an interview is that she’s innocent!” Alexia protested. “And she can’t be tripped up because she didn’t do it!”
“The first lesson for you to learn right now is that innocence doesn’t count for much in a court of law, and even less in the court of public opinion.” Liam spoke flatly, no longer trying to win over Alexia and her husband. On the question of media contact, he was adamant. Chloe had spent most of her young adult life in the spotlight and it was natural for her family to think they knew how to handle reporters. They didn’t, not in the wake of a celebrity murder.
“I’m giving you advice based on my experience trying other high profile criminal cases,” Liam said. “I guarantee that there are plenty of secrets concerning her marriage that Chloe doesn’t want revealed, whether or not they relate to Jason’s murder.”
“But—”
“No buts. As long as I’m her defense lawyer, Chloe will refuse any and all interviews. I can’t force you two to do the same, but I’m strongly requesting it. If you want to help your sister, don’t speak to the press. Or the police, for that matter. Your only smart response to any and all questions is no comment, whoever is asking—friendly neighbor, church minister, cop, reporter, one answer fits all. No comment. Practice saying it until it’s a reflex. Advise your parents to do the same.”
Tom started to protest again, but Alexia put her hand on his arm, silencing him. “Then what options do we have? Sit back and wait for Chloe to be tried and convicted by the media?”
“We can’t tackle the media or the cops in a vacuum. We need a comprehensive strategy. I’ll have a better idea of exactly what we’re facing when Chloe and I have had a chance to talk.”
“You haven’t discussed the case with Chloe yet?” Tom sounded incredulous. “What have you been doing all day, for Christ’s sake?”
“Serving my existing clients.” Liam kept his voice level. “I spent most of today in court. Consequently, I don’t know enough of the facts of this case to have even the outline of a strategy.”
“I’m sorry.” Tom gulped in air and shoved his hand through his hair. “This situation is getting to me. I didn’t mean to criticize.”
“That’s okay. It’s stressful for everyone. However, right now we’re wasting valuable time. I need to get your niece back to her mother.”
“Like I said, the poor little thing has barely spoken since she got here.” Alexia dried her hands on the dish-towel, although she hadn’t actually washed them. “Normally she’s as chatty as Morgan and the two of them love to play together. But not today.”
Liam followed Alexia’s worried gaze toward the child at the table. Sophie was still coloring. Despite his inexperience with kids, even he was able to recognize her extreme focus as an avoidance tactic.
Ignoring the roller coaster that had begun operation in his stomach the second he walked into the kitchen, he crossed the room and drew up a chair next to Sophie. Next to his daughter.
“Hi, Sophie,” he said, hoping she couldn’t hear the squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat. “My name is Liam. I’m…um…a friend of your mom.”
Sophie said nothing. She continued to color exactly as if he hadn’t spoken—as if he didn’t exist. By comparison, blue-nosed Peter had
