He’d made the offer. She’d declined. That should be the end of it. It would be, too, in terms of him ever again even hinting to Emma Martin that there could be something personal between him and her. A casual reference without pressure, when one had been mutually stared at, was fine.
Anything more than that and he crossed a line.
He could call her out for staring at him with that heat in her eyes.
Except that he’d kind of liked it.
And so it went with Jayden on Thursday morning. In the shower. Stepping out. He cringed as he dried off and contorted to get his shirt on without pulling on the muscles surrounding his ribs. He’d picked up the recommended wrap that would help reduce swelling and speed up healing but had declined the prescription pain meds. He’d been hurt a lot worse playing football in high school and still gone on the field.
There was no time for rest, either.
Leaving his shirt open, he put a slab of frozen packaged bacon on his chest while he made some toast and drank milk from the carton. The fewer dishes he had to do, the better. The fewer actions that required movement, the better. He’d woken himself up half a dozen times in the night, turning in his sleep. Or attempting to. Back to the recliner for him that night. He’d been dumb to insist on the bed the second evening out from having taken the hit.
He’d driven by Luke Lincoln’s place on the way home the night before. The man had been there. He’d stopped earlier in the day, too, to make sure there was no gun on the premises; it would be his first stop this morning. Another gun check. Jayden wasn’t just going to ask, he wanted to take a look around.
He’d be seeing Harold Wallace that morning, too. Wallace’s son was going to be arraigned. And then, after a couple of workplace checks, it was on to Bill Heber. He was going it solo, partially because he didn’t need backup, and partially because he didn’t want anyone else to know he was checking into Heber. Not unless he found something that gave him cause to report anything.
If evidence that implicated Bill turned up, he would report it. But until then, he wanted nothing to hinder Bill’s chances for successful reentry.
Luke, who’d done time for physical assault, among other things was at home. Wearing a bulletproof vest under the shirt tucked into his jeans, Jayden kept his expression serious and calm as he asked to enter.
Inside he was smiling; Luke was at home. The man hadn’t broken parole—at least not that he knew of. Success, even momentary, felt good.
“I need to come in,” he told the twenty-two-year-old who’d opened the door dressed only in a pair of flannel pants. “Is anyone else home?” Luke was living with his younger sister and boyfriend, both of whom had passed the home inspection stage before Luke’s release.
“No.” Luke stood back, his expression grim as he let Jayden inside.
Having Leon or other backup with him would have been the safest choice for this call. And would put Luke immediately on the defensive, which would have blown any chance Jayden had for establishing even a small bit of rapport with his least-trusted client.
As far as he knew, Luke hadn’t reoffended yet. And though he didn’t feel as positive about the young man’s potential for success as he had some others, he had to give Luke the chance to surprise him.
“I need to search the place,” Jayden said as he walked into a living room that had definitely been lived in. Warrantless searches had been a part of Luke’s parole stipulation, but if they hadn’t been, he had reasonable cause, which, as a probation officer, was all he needed.
Dirty plates and glasses sat on the coffee table. Three of them. As though that small family had shared a meal sometime recently.
A blanket and pillow were on the couch, like someone had just taken a nap. Three remote controls lay on three different cushions. And there was an ashtray filled with cigarette butts.
“Have at it,” Luke said, waving an arm toward the rest of the small house. Picking up a remote, he dropped down to the couch and flipped on the television.
Jayden knew Thursday was Luke’s day off from the restaurant where he worked as a busboy. But he also knew Luke had to be at the convenience store where he stocked shelves later that afternoon.
The free morning had been partially what had brought Jayden straight to Luke even before Jayden’s day had officially started. He’d more than half expected the man to track down his daughter.
Home searches were a fairly normal part of his job, and Jayden knew well what to look for. And where and how to look. Messy housekeepers often simplified the job. At the leg of the twin bed frame and mattress set up in the room designated as Luke’s, he found a torn piece of cardboard: part of the top of a box of ammunition.
Finding the weapon and more bullets was fairly routine. Luke had them both stuffed inside the pillow, which was inside a pillowcase matching the one on the couch.
So much for building rapport with his offender. Who was now a reoffender. Which put Jayden in a bit of a prickly situation. He was alone in the house with a man who could be considered dangerous—one of the few of his parolees that he’d struggled to believe in at all. He’d had to give Luke the chance the courts had granted him, but the man had never looked him in the eye. Not once. That didn’t set well with Jayden.
Sore ribs were the least of his worries as he made a split-second decision. If he made a call, requesting backup, chances were he’d be overheard. Luke might run. Or attack.
Percentages said he’d run. Jayden might or might not catch him. And being a hunted man would make Luke more desperate to see his young daughter—since it could be the last time in a long time he’d have the right to do so.
Jayden could make the arrest on his own, and hope all went well.
Or he could pretend he hadn’t found the gun, leave, keep a watch on the place, and call for backup. During which time Luke could arm himself with the gun hidden in the pillowcase. Or do something with it so Jayden couldn’t find it again.
Texting Leon, he went to the living room to make the arrest.
With back-to-back hearings on two different cases in two different courtrooms, Emma spent Thursday morning fully engrossed in work. She was just getting back to her office, her feet hurting in the three-inch heels she’d put on that morning because they made her legs look sexy. She was cursing herself for letting her shadow side out long enough to influence her wardrobe choices that morning—knowing full well they’d been made with the thought in mind that she might run into Officer Powell.
The black slim-line short skirt and matching jacket was her power suit because of the red cami she wore with it. She’d left her hair curly and wild, rather than trying to tame it as she usually did.
And after a morning in the courtroom, she was disgusted with herself for her early-morning lapse. Her feet hurt.
“Hey, boss, this came your way this morning. I figured you’d want it first thing.” Kenny punctuated the last two words with his typical head bob, as he came into her office with a file in hand.
“What is it?” she asked, taking and looking at the file. Kenny would give her a speedier and as equally accurate rundown as her cursory glance was going to do.
“That probation officer, Jayden Powell, requested that it come to you specifically,” Kenny said. “One of his offenders, Luke Lincoln. You know him?”
“Yes!” She looked at the front page of the file.
“Jayden made the arrest?” She looked up at Kenny.
“Found a gun during a home visit this morning,” Kenny said. “Powell’s lucky he didn’t get himself shot again. You’d think, after what happened Tuesday, he’d at least have had backup there.”
You’d think. If you weren’t Ms. Shadow who found the man’s courage rather admirable.
“He was there alone?”
“That’s what I hear. He had the guy down on the ground at gunpoint and then called for officer backup.”
Wow. Emma was impressed. Thankful. And a bit wary, too. Powell didn’t play by the safety book. Officers like that muddied waters, too. Powell finding that gun—it could come down to his word against the offender’s. And Emma would be left to prove who was telling the truth.
She hoped to God Jayden had some definitive proof that he hadn’t planted that gun just to keep the guy away from his daughter. She could hear the defense already.
And while she admired Powell’s ability to get his job done, his dedication to keeping innocent people safe, she also had to wonder just how big a risk he’d be willing to take to do so.
Like planting a weapon?
Why, after having just been shot, had he gone to the home of a serious offender alone? Unless he hadn’t wanted anyone else to be privy to what he was doing. Hoping to cash in on the fact that a panel would believe him over a dangerous offender.
Part of her wanted her to call the man, to see what he had to say about this morning’s visit and arrest. The untrustworthy part that was attracted to him.
Thanking Kenny, she dropped the open folder in front of her on her desk, turned on her computer and told her shadow side to shut the hell up.
Jayden went home for lunch. With the rib wrap and bulletproof vest he’d been wearing in July heat, he stank. He was stripping as he came in the door from the garage, stopped at the refrigerator, thinking about a beer from the six-pack on the bottom shelf—probably would have had one if he hadn’t had a full afternoon of work facing him—and settled for a grape energy drink instead.
He’d put in a good morning. Hated to lose one of his own to reoffender status, but was glad that he’d stopped Luke from doing something much worse than possessing a gun. Luke would serve out his time in prison, with a bit more tacked on, he’d expect, once Emma got through with him, and maybe get himself straightened out. It happened sometimes, prison knocking some sense into a guy. Maybe he’d get some counseling. Or find religion.
Did Emma have the file yet? He’d give her until after his shower and then he’d call her. If she hadn’t already called him.
She’d said she’d get him windows of time and dates for Suzie Heber’s injuries, to check against Heber’s file on Jayden’s location app and also to use as he canvassed ice cream shops and establishments that sold ice cream in Heber’s area to see if there were any Heber visits that coincided with Emma’s dates. He’d been waiting all morning to hear from her.
She had other cases. A lot of them. So did he. So he showered. Fed the feral cat who hadn’t been outside since consuming the fish in his tank. Ate a peanut butter sandwich and then rewrapped his ribs. They were a bit better, though perhaps a little challenged by the morning’s events. He couldn’t say for sure. At the time that he’d pulled his gun, aimed it at Luke and told him to lie facedown on the floor, he’d been so filled with adrenaline, he hadn’t felt a thing.
The twinges had come later, when he’d stood over the man, called for backup and waited, poised to act at any minute movement from his soon-to-be ex-client. Other than breathing. Luke was allowed to breathe.
They’d twinged a bit during his meeting with Harold Wallace, too. Jayden wasn’t pressing charges against the boy, but the state was. He was to be remanded to juvenile detention while awaiting trial. His father was an ex-con on parole—they weren’t going to give the child to him.
But it was a first offense. The kid had been crying in court when he’d told the judge that he was only trying to protect his father on their property. Harold’s eyes had been moist, too. Jayden promised his client that he’d write to the judge personally, suggesting that the boy’s charges be lessened, and asking him to be placed with his father’s girlfriend, who was the closest thing to family he had. The woman was clean, had never been a user herself, and had been on her job for ten years. The fact that Wallace lived with her didn’t have to be a bad thing. Depending on how he spun it.
He’d told Wallace, if need be, he’d do whatever he could to take personal responsibility for the boy. But he wasn’t sure how that would look. Still, he was determined to try. That boy needed serious counseling, and deserved a second chance. The kid could prove him wrong. Could come after him and finish the job he’d started at his dad’s house. But it was a risk Jayden had to take. He had a good sense when it came to assessing people. And if not for second chances, he wouldn’t be the man he was.
He’d be a deadbeat drunk without a college degree, still trying to find a good time. If he was alive at all.
Still shirtless, and feeling better standing, Jayden called Emma from the back patio of his walled-in yard. Only a mile from the beach, he saw no point in a swimming pool, but he kept the place nice. Grass mowed. Flowering bushes trimmed.
Nothing like the opulent home he’d grown up in south of LA. Or the home he’d one day inherit. But far more to his taste.
“Jayden Powell here,” he said when she picked up.
“Your name came up on my phone,” she replied.
He slipped a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. So she had him programmed, huh? He grinned.
And then stopped. He had all of his work associates in his Contacts, too. Meant nothing.
“I’m waiting for the dates and times Suzie might have suffered injuries.” He turned his thoughts to his earlier offer. He’d invited a more personal relationship. She’d declined.
Not something he was used to, but he’d definitely survive.
“I was just getting ready to put in a second call to Sara,” she said. “I’ve got what the doctor could give us. I wanted to get it all to you at once.”
Made sense.
“I’ve been in court all morning.”
He walked along the pavers he’d put in across the lawn that lead to his built-in barbecue patio. He’d been heading toward a chair at the table, but once there, opted to remain standing.
The distraction didn’t work. He was still grinning from the realization that she hadn’t been specifically ignoring him. She’d been in court.
“I requested you on a case,” he told her. Maybe she hadn’t been assigned to it. There was always that possibility, though it was just now occurring to him.
“I’ve already read the file. Need to talk to you about it, actually. Can you swing by my office sometime today?”
“I can talk now.”
“I want the interview recorded.”
“Right.” He nodded. “For the record.” Because she was that good. He’d known he’d made the right choice, turning Luke Lincoln over to her.
“For the record,” she reiterated, but her tone had softened. Perceptibly. He imagined she had a look in her eye, the same look that had accompanied that tone in her voice the night before.
“What time works for you?” he asked, kind of hoping she’d rush him through in between other important things. Like court appearances.
“I’m done at four,” she said. “Would that work for you?”
He could be free at four. And would force himself to be the height of professionalism when he showed up, too.