Was she still at the station? Probably not. It was late. He hoped she wasn’t. She had no business driving home this late alone.
What in hell was he thinking?
She despised him. She had made a campaign of making him look like a bungling buffoon at best and a political manipulator at worst. But here he was, like an idiot, worrying about her driving home alone on ice-slick streets.
Face it, buddy, she’s never off your mind.
That was the hell of it. Furiously he would watch her reports on TV, then go to bed and dream erotic dreams about her. It didn’t make any sense to a man who was usually pragmatic and logical to a fault.
He had even gone so far as to reexamine his motives for the way he had handled the city council scam. Had he been out for Wynne’s head just because he happened to desire the man’s widow? Rarely did Hunter question a decision once he made it. Such self-analysis was a new experience for him.
But no matter how many times he turned the question over in his mind, he knew he had done the right thing. All his actions had been within the law, motivated by his duty to uphold it. That Kari Stewart could have ever made him doubt himself only showed how much influence she had over him.
“I’m going to shut her up this time,” he said now.
Guy choked on the swallow of tepid Coke he’d just taken. “You’re going to put a muzzle on Kari Stewart? How?”
“By getting the judge to bar cameras from the courtroom. Without a video camera to back her up, she’s virtually ineffective. This is a hot trial. It’s made national news already. We’ll have a tough enough job without it turning into a circus.”
“This judge likes his publicity, Hunter. Do you think he’ll do it?”
Hunter returned to his desk and sank into the chair. He pulled on his glasses and picked up another file. “I’m going to do my best to see that he does.”
* * *
His best wasn’t good enough. The judge denied his request. “Let’s give it a day or two and see how it goes. If it becomes as rowdy as you predict, I’ll reconsider.”
Hunter cursed all the way back to his office. His mood didn’t improve the next day when the trial opened and the first reporter to question him as he entered the courtroom was Kari Stewart.
“Is it true that you tried to have cameras and sketch artists banned from the courtroom?”
Who the hell were her sources? If he had informants like that, there wouldn’t be a criminal left on Denver streets. “Yes, I did.” God, she was gorgeous. A red sweater with a high cowl neck made her complexion glow and her hair look like a golden flame.
“Why, Mr. McKee?”
“I have no further comment at this time. If you’ll excuse me.”
He went around the cluster of reporters. They followed him into the large corner courtroom and competed for the best seats. The trial commenced.
That evening according to Kari Stewart’s report on WBTV news, the accused was portrayed as a victim of his environment. The audience was treated to shots of him crying on his mother’s shoulder. He was quoted as having said that he was remorseful, that he’d been forced to murder his father. Hunter knew better. The report dwelt on the deprived environment the accused had grown up in.
The next morning when he entered the courtroom, Kari flashed him a bright guileless smile that caused his eyes to darken threateningly.
To Kari’s surprise, he came directly toward her. “Ms. Stewart, will you meet me for coffee after we adjourn today?”
The invitation almost struck her speechless. Mike, sitting beside her, gazed on, equally dumbfounded. “No, thank you,” she said politely. “I’ll have to get back to the station to edit my story for tonight.”
“I promise it won’t take long.”
His tone of voice was just challenging enough to make her reconsider. She wasn’t about to back down. Ever. “All right. Where?”
“The Ship Tavern at the Brown Palace?”
Again, she was surprised but hoped she didn’t show it. “I’ll be there fifteen minutes after court is adjourned.” He nodded curtly and withdrew.
“What’s that all about?” Mike asked from the side of his mouth as the judge came in.
“I haven’t the foggiest,” Kari replied in a whisper. “But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter Six
THE LOBBY OF THE BROWN PALACE HOTEL, A DENVER landmark, was one of Kari’s favorite places. It settled around one like a comfortable, warm shawl. The stained-glass ceiling, several stories above, shed a soft glow and added to the feeling that the lobby was an overgrown Victorian parlor. The paneling shone with the patina of age. The brass appointments sparkled. The potted palms flourished. The furniture invited visitors to lounge. Everything was sedate and understated and tended to make one want to whisper to maintain the restful atmosphere.