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STEVE SAT AT THE DINNER table, going over the appointment calendar that usually graced the kitchen wall, cross-referencing dates with those of the killings. Not one offered a concrete alibi and he clenched his jaw, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
“Damn it all,” he cursed and traded a worried look with Jennifer. Not only had the police taken the pictures and the knife, they also found a stash of unmarked DVDs hidden in a secret hideaway in the attic floor. “What else could go wrong?”
Tom’s panicked call reverberated in his brain, answering his question and he closed his eyes, grabbing hold of the telepathic signature and transported his consciousness into Tom’s cell. One glance sent hot irons of fury through his fingers and his hands balled into fists, controlling the fiery rage from escaping. Instead, he threw a punch into the side of the bastard’s head, knocking him out cold before he could pull his dick out of his pants.
“I suggest you let go of my son,” he said, shaking the sting from his knuckles. His voice wavered with building fury. Hands released Tom and the men scuttled away like he was a demon incarnate.
He turned his attention to Tom, helping him up before turning to the beastly pig on the floor. “How did he get in here?”
One of the officers let him in. Tom signed in answer.
“Damn it,” Steve said and reached into his back pocket. The handcuffs from this morning were still in his jeans and he yanked them out, kneeling over the man and securing his wrists behind his back before turning back to Tom. “Stay put, I’ll be back in a few.”
The transition started, and Steve opened his eyes, back in his kitchen and met Jennifer’s worried gaze before getting up from the table. “Those assholes put him in the adult section of the jail,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t have time to explain right now.” He turned and headed for the garage. “You need to stay and deal with CJ,” he shot over his shoulder and closed the door on her imploring gaze.
A few minutes later, he stormed into the York police department holding area, his gaze landing on one of the cockier officers that continually rubbed him wrong. He crossed and towered over the desk, scanning his mind and confirming this was the dirt bag that let that monster into Tom’s cell.
“Hathaway, why did you put that jerk off in the cell with my son?” he said, loud enough to call the attention of the entire room, O’Keefe included.
“The drunk tank was full and there was an extra bed in that cell,” Hathaway said and sat back in his seat with his arms crossed.
“Bullshit,” Steve balled his hands into fists and shot a glare in O’Keefe’s direction. “You were supposed to segregate him from the adults. He’s a minor for god’s sake.”
“He’s being charged as an adult,” O’Keefe stepped closer verbally defending Hathaway’s actions but Steve saw into his thoughts and the man was pissed, too.
Steve stared at O’Keefe. “Do you have any idea what they were trying to do to Tom a few minutes ago?”
Hathaway started typing and Steve glanced at his hands, willing them to freeze over the keyboard. Steve reached out, turning the monitor in O’Keefe’s direction. “Too bad Hathaway isn’t as accomplished at erasing videos as he thinks he is.” He glanced at Hathaway. “Rewind the video.”
Hathaway’s wide horrified gaze watched as he typed the proper commands and the screen went blank for a moment before coming back at the point he opened Tom’s cell and pushed the large man into it. The audio captured his mocking words as the cell door latched closed.
O’Keefe’s jaw clenched at the following scene and when Steve stepped into the frame and cold cocked the man, he turned his gaze to Steve. “How did you get in there?”
Steve held up a set of keys to the lock up area that he’d had for years now. “I came to make sure you were true to your word. Guess it was a good thing I showed up when I did otherwise that animal would have made Tom his bitch.”
The comment settled on the room and Steve released control of Hathaway’s hands. Hathaway pushed back from the desk, his features filled with trepidation and Steve sent a warning glare in his direction.
“I am taking Tom home. Now.”
“His arraignment...” O’Keefe started and trailed off at the silencing glare Steve sent in his direction.
“I’ll keep him under house arrest in a safe environment,” Steve said. “And once he’s in my custody, I’ll give you the keys to un-cuff the unconscious pig in his cell.”
“I suggest you do what Special Agent Williams is requesting,” A baritone voice came from the doorway.
Steve turned to see Director Ron Cleary standing in the entry with a slip of paper in his hand. He crossed, dropping it on the desk, giving Steve a sideways glance.
“I went over your head,” he said to Detective O’Keefe. “Tom’s not a flight risk and the terms of his house arrest include school and home until such time as a court date can be worked out. In other words, Special Agent Williams has custody until a verdict is returned.”
As soon as O’Keefe left the room, Steve turned to Cleary. “Thanks,” he said and stuck out his hand.
He returned the handshake and pulled out another paper from his coat. “You’ve got bail to settle up,” he said and handed the bill to Steve.
Steve glanced at the slip of paper and raised an eyebrow. “They set bail at a million?” Cleary nodded, and Steve understood the hoops he jumped through to get this deal and the seriousness of the prosecutor in trying this case. “He didn’t do it, Ron,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
Steve nodded. “Yes. I’d stake my reputation on it.”
“You’ve been fooled before,” Cleary said.
“Once and that’s because I didn’t know the signs. Tom’s an open book. He doesn’t know how to hide a secret from me, not something like this.”
Cleary nodded toward the holding cell entrance and Steve turned to see Detective O’Keefe escorting him across the station.
“Sit here,” Detective O’Keefe pointed at a chair next to his desk. Tom sat, rubbing his wrists and Detective O’Keefe sent a glare in Steve’s direction before he disappeared.
Steve turned back to Cleary. “Could you stay with him while I settle this up?”
Cleary nodded, and Steve headed off to the bail bond office. When he came back, Tom was sitting with his arms crossed and a decidedly sour expression on his face and Detective O’Keefe was squatting, fitting the tracking device around Tom’s ankle.
Steve met his gaze and crossed the station just as Detective O’Keefe stood.
What the hell is this? Tom signed and pointed at his ankle.
“It’s part of the stipulation of your home arrest. You can go to and from school and that’s it. If you violate those terms, they’ll put you back in jail.”
What about my job? he signed.
“You’ll have to take a leave of absence,” Steve said.
“Why?” Tom asked.
“Because it’s across state lines,” he said. “Home and school. That’s it until we can clear you of all charges.”
Tom lowered his gaze to the ankle bracelet and nodded but Steve knew he was not happy with the current situation.
“Are we good?” Steve asked Detective O’Keefe.
Detective O’Keefe entered a few commands on his computer and a red light on his ankle bracelet went on. The printer whirled into action and he turned, grabbing the piece of paper that spit out. “I’ve mapped out the route to school for you,” he said and handed Tom the paper. “If you deviate from this route, your ankle bracelet will blink red. That means you’ve violated the terms of your house arrest. Tonight, when you get home, that will turn green. I’ve given you twenty minutes to get home before the alarm goes off. If he isn’t home within twenty minutes, he is in violation of his house arrest. Understand?”
Tom stared at the paper and then handed it to Steve. He met Detective O’Keefe’s gaze and gave a nod. “Ye,” he said and signed yes.
Steve gave a nod as well and grabbed Tom’s arm. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving,” he said and led Tom outside, knowing he didn’t have time to fool around. “At least it isn’t summertime,” he said when they slid in the car. “Otherwise we’d be screwed.”
Tom nodded. Without traffic, it took a good fifteen minutes to get from their house to the police station, provided you kept to the speed limit, but in the summer, Long Sands Road was wall-to-wall traffic and it could easily take twice as long to drive the same distance.
I can’t take the bus.
“I know.” Steve had seen the direct route along with the time-frame allowed for the commute. It didn’t allow any leeway at all and he sighed. “I’ll drive you in and I’ll see if Jen can pick you up.”
I can drive.
Steve sent a glare in his direction. “No, you can’t.” He pulled the paperwork out of his pocket and handed it to Tom. “Regardless of the stipulations, it’s better than sitting in jail until this gets straightened out.”
Tom scanned the paper, raising an eyebrow in Steve’s direction when his gaze landed on the amount of bail required for the arrangement. He blew out a stream of air and continued reading, each word bringing with it a deeper despair, and by the time they pulled into the security gate and his ankle bracelet blinked green, his eyes filled with tears.
“When we get inside, we need to map out exactly where you were for each of the murders. We need a couple concrete alibis.”
They really think I’m the Windwalker?
“Yes, and they found the mutilated pictures in your room.”
Tom put his hand over his eyes and hung his head.
“They are going to try to nail you for Tanya’s murder regardless of whether they can pin the rest on you.”
I didn’t kill her! Tom signed as well as projected the thought.
“I know you didn’t kill her, but there isn’t any evidence to refute it, so the cops are doing exactly what I would have done in their shoes,” he said and glanced at Tom. “Minus what happened in the jail earlier. That’s unacceptable and I’ll be filing a complaint as soon as we get inside. Having internal affairs on their ass won’t help their case either and the lawyer I’ve hired will have a field day with that transgression.”
Steve turned the car off and closed the garage door. “The stunt you pulled the other night isn’t going to help your case, either.” He rubbed his face and opened the car door. “With all the trouble you and CJ have gotten into over the past year, it just makes it harder to prove what we already know. You’re a good kid, even though on paper it looks like you’re a rebel who has no regard for the law.”
I’m sorry, Uncle Steve. Tom thought and met Steve’s gaze over the roof of the car.
“I’m sorry about Tanya,” Steve said, and Tom’s calm demeanor crumbled. Tears sprang into the corners of his eyes like someone turned a faucet on and Steve rounded the car to give his adopted son a much-needed hug. Tom sobbed on his shoulder like an inconsolable toddler.