Crap. Just not good.
Out of the four time frames Emma had given him, Bill Heber had been in Santa Raquel for two of them. Not at his wife’s home. But close.
Jayden’s faith in Heber had been rocked a little, but he still had the sense that Bill wasn’t lying to him. He’d sworn he hadn’t been to Suzie’s house, and he hadn’t been.
But Jayden had some questions to ask the man. Unfortunately, one in the morning wasn’t an appropriate time for him to call a parolee unless he wanted to alert the guy to possible serious ramifications for perceived actions.
He wasn’t ready to alert Bill yet. He wanted this done, and Suzie’s abuser found, before Bill caught wind of the fact that his wife had been hurt.
And before he knew he was a suspect again.
Both facts could seriously jeopardize Bill’s chances for successful reintegration into being a contributing member of society.
He couldn’t call in the middle of the night, but he had to get the man on the phone before he had to turn over his findings to Emma. Had to be able to give her logical reasons, with alibis for Bill’s whereabouts on both occasions in question.
That was why he was up at six Friday morning, showered and, forgoing the rib wrap, dressed and out the door by seven. That, and because he’d been lying in the bed thinking about sex with Emma Martin, which wasn’t a great sign. Wanting it, even doing it, was passably acceptable. Mooning over it made it more than it could be.
Bill was already expecting an in-person visit sometime, so his showing up wouldn’t send up any alarms at all, where a phone call asking questions might.
Bill was due at work at eight in the little town just north of Santa Raquel where he was currently renting a trailer from a friend until he found a little place to buy. He still had money, savings that had been his part of the divorce settlement, but while it was enough for a down payment, it wasn’t enough to support him.
Unlike some of Jayden’s parolees, Bill had friends who were upstanding members of society, respectable family men. Friends from high school. Clients who’d always come to his shop for any of their car repair needs. People who trusted him.
Right now, what Jayden cared most about was making sure that Bill continued to trust him. He figured if he showed up right before Bill had to leave, he could ask a few questions, as he always did on visits, and let the other guy get on his way. Show Bill that it was just a cursory stop-by, because he was required to make them, not because he believed Bill might act out.
Then he’d check for any ice cream shops, or shops that served ice cream, in the area. He’d already done a search for shops near the areas Bill had been during the two visits that had him near Suzie during critical times, and come up with two. He’d be on both of those later that morning.
In jeans and a T-shirt, Bill was just locking up the door of the trailer when Jayden pulled up. Jayden’s car wasn’t fancy. A dark blue sedan, four-door, relatively new. But nothing like the sports cars Jayden had driven as a young adult. He still owned one, garaged at his parents’ house down south, but he only kept it because his father, who’d purchased it for him, had begged him not to sell it.
He met Bill at the door of Bill’s truck—an older red pickup that he’d paid cash for upon his release. Bill had sold the newer pickup he’d owned before his incarceration rather than pay to have it stored and have to make truck payments while in jail. The man was responsible.
Accountable.
“Hey, Officer,” Bill greeted him, holding out his hand for a shake.
Jayden noted the strength of Bill’s grasp, tight enough to show familiarity, comfort, affection, confidence, but not so tight that it gave hints of aggression, power, control.
“How’s it going?” Jayden asked, squinting against the rising sun. It was piercing in spite of the sunglasses he wore.
“Good.” Bill shrugged. “Can’t complain.”
He could. Living in a trailer instead of the three-bedroom home he’d once owned. But he didn’t.
“Doing a quick check, like we talked about,” Jayden said, keeping to the point, like it was all just red tape. “Give me some alibies about a few random places on the location app and we’re good to go.”
“Let me have ’em,” Bill said. He stood with a hand on his door handle, a hand at his side, looking at Jayden straight-on.
He named a location not far from Bill’s home.
“A taxidermy place,” Bill said immediately. “I caught a twenty-five-incher six weeks ago and had it mounted. I can show you the fish and the paid receipts.”
“When you get a chance—” Jayden nodded “—just email a copy.”
“I’d do it now, ’cept I’m not going to be late to work. You’ll have ’em tonight.”
Jayden then named one of the Santa Raquel addresses.
“A park I used to go to with Suzie. We carved our names in a tree there, a long time ago. I was having a rough night, thought about drinking, and went to take a look at the tree instead. To remind myself why I’m where I’m at and how much I know I ain’t never goin’ back. I bought a hot dog from a vendor there. And took a picture of the tree on my phone.”
He pulled out his phone as he was speaking, and showed it to Jayden, who noted the time stamp. And then Bill scrolled farther. “Here’s the fish, too,” he said.
“Wow, that’s a nice one!” Jayden asked what kind of bait he’d used and what time of day it had been.
And then he asked about an address closer to LA.
“An autobody shop,” Bill said. “I was there on official business, picking up some parts for work. I’ll take a picture of my time card when I get to the shop and send it to you.”
It wasn’t necessary, but Jayden didn’t say so. He wanted Bill to be accountable. To be able to feel accountable.
He gave one more non-alarming address and then the other Santa Raquel one.
“You know I haven’t been to Suzie’s house,” Bill said, giving him a more pointed look.
“I do. But you were arrested for breaking and entering in Santa Raquel. You aren’t currently living there. I have to check...”
Bill nodded. Frowned. “I was looking at a place,” he said. “It’s for sale. It’s right off the freeway, needs some work, but I can afford it.”
Bill was thinking about moving back to town. Where Suzie lived.
“I passed on it because I figured it was too soon,” Bill explained. “When Suzie and I can talk, and I can make sure she’s okay with me moving back to my hometown, then I’ll buy.”
As one of the conditions of his release, Bill wasn’t allowed to contact his ex-wife, since he’d broken into her home. But he was allowed to speak with her if she contacted him.
“Has she called you?” Jayden asked. And knew he’d gone too far when Bill took a deep breath.
“You’re checking my phone records, right?” Bill asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you know she hasn’t called. You also know I haven’t called her.”
He did.
He nodded. “I’m here to help, Bill. I know you can do this. I also know there will be tough times. I hope you’ll call me, anytime of the day or night, if you get to a point where doing so is the only thing that would stop you from doing something you don’t want to do.”
“I’d dump myself at the bottom of the ocean before I hurt that woman,” his parolee said. “But yeah, I got your number on my speed dial.”
Bill showed Jayden his phone.
He nodded. “Then we’re all good, man. I’ll be checking by again within the next few days. You’re at the three-month mark and I’ve found that to be critical timing. I like to keep a tighter watch between three and six months, if that’s okay with you.”
“Like you did for the first two weeks,” Bill said, climbing into his truck. “I hope someday when I see your ugly mug it’ll be over a beer at a pool table somewhere.” He pulled his door closed behind him.
Jayden didn’t get a chance to tell the older man that he’d like that. A beer and a game of pool sounded good. Too good. Reminding him of days gone, college nights that he and his frat brothers would drink and shoot pool until the sun came up, and then drink some more...
It was one of those days when Emma felt like no matter what she did, it wasn’t enough. She’d been disappointed from the get-go when she’d missed a call from Jayden. She’d been in court when he’d left a message, telling her that not only had he been over Bill’s locations, but that also he’d talked to the man himself. He’d told her that Bill had not been within two miles of Suzie’s home since he’d been out of jail and that he had alibis for every single location Jayden had questioned him about. Bill would be sending receipts as proof and Jayden would forward them to her if she had to see them.
Of course she didn’t need to see them. She didn’t need to do his job with him. She wasn’t that much of a control freak. Jayden hadn’t said if any of the times Bill had been in Santa Raquel coincided with times she’d given him, but assumed not, since he wasn’t sending up red flags. And she appreciated his diligence in following up.
Because if any of those occurrences had been during critical times, Bill could easily have left his phone someplace, gone to Suzie’s, and gone back to get his phone. Maybe that type of thinking was paranoid, but in her line of work, she had to be that way.
She spent her days unraveling all of the ways people managed to do evil things to each other, or to innocent victims. There were no lengths, apparently, that some wouldn’t go to...
So yeah, maybe she was a bit hardened by it all. And a bit paranoid? She’d been certain, when she’d first turned into the parking garage at work, that she’d seen in her rearview mirror the same truck from the night before come from around a corner and pass by. The stress of Bill on the loose, of Suzie not being in protective custody, was getting to her.
Maybe she needed to be a bit more like Jayden, looking for the good in people instead of always assuming the worst.
Maybe that’s why he’d come into her life right then, while she was taking steps to bring a baby into her world. To remind her to see the good.
No way a child should grow up seeing only the bad. Expecting the bad.
Like she did.
And what more perfect way to make certain that she didn’t make anything more of the fling with Jayden than to take steps to conceive a child on her own? She was remaining practical. Not even thinking about changing her life goals for him—or including him in them. If she got to the point of telling him her plans, and it scared him off, all the better.
Staring at her computer screen shortly after leaving her message for Jayden, she sat completely still. Shocked where her thoughts had led her.
She did expect the worst. Not just from the defendants she tried, but from everyone.
When had she become so hardened, bordering on bitter when it came to humanity?
She used to have so much fun. Used to love meeting new people because of the new experiences they’d bring to her life.
Certainly all the stuff with Drake had soured her. How could it not? But she’d thought, when she’d tried her second live-in relationship, that she’d gotten beyond that.
Wow.
Not the kind of home she wanted to provide for her baby.
So she had some thinking to do. Some self-watching. From that moment on she’d be more aware, make conscious attempts to find good in every situation.
Her resolve lasted through lunch. And two cases in court. She prided herself on how well she was doing as she came from a successful plea agreement, applauding the defendant for taking accountability for her actions and wanting to make amends.
And then she went to Luke Lincoln’s arraignment. She’d expected the proceeding to merely be a formality. She’d gone armed with her recorded copy of Jayden’s testimony, which she’d also printed to give to the judge. The arraignment was for the gun violation charge for which he’d been arrested. The defendant was to be held without bail, while awaiting his hearing before the parole board. They would likely send him back to prison to serve out the remainder of his original sentence. She could have handled the case during her first year of law school. It was that clear-cut.
Except that not only did Luke Lincoln have an attorney, he had an überaggressive one—one who sought to convince the judge that Luke had been unaware of the gun at the residence. The home didn’t belong to him. He was only staying there until he found a place he could afford, as had been approved by the system prior to his release.
Not only was the gun not his, he hadn’t known it was there, or he’d have called Officer Powell immediately and made arrangements to be somewhere else. His attorney was asking, on Luke’s behalf, that the charges be dropped and that Luke be released, at least until the parole board hearing.
Emma objected, of course, vehemently. And asked the court to listen to Officer Powell’s interview with her.
When the defense had no objection, the judge allowed her to play the recording. Watching the judge’s face, Emma relaxed again, confident that, in spite of the little glitch she hadn’t anticipated, the hearing would end with the expected result.
It didn’t. At all.
In spite of the risk Jayden had taken, the good work he’d done.
And therein ended Emma’s temporary ability to find the good in every situation.
Jayden was at home, typing up reports from his visits that day, when his cell rang with a call from Emma.
He picked up, ready for her. She’d had her hearing with Luke. Though the results were a no-brainer, he’d expected her to call, just to confirm. And had steaks thawing in the kitchen for the invitation he planned to issue.
Maybe they’d finally sleep together that night. If they gave his ribs another night or two to heal, that was fine. If not, he’d be just as “feeling good,” as she’d ever need him to be.
“The judge dismissed the charges.”
In his recliner, with his laptop across his thighs and a grape energy drink on the table beside him, Jayden wasn’t sure what she was talking about.
“Come again?”
“Luke Lincoln. The judge dismissed the charges. Obviously, you haven’t had a call yet. He’s still in jail on the parole violation and chances are he’ll be back on your list soon.”
Slamming down the footrest, he dropped his laptop on the seat and stood. He’d changed into sweats and a T-shirt when he got home—only until he knew for sure she’d be joining him for dinner—and paced barefoot to the kitchen.
“What the hell! What happened?”
“He’s got some high-dollar attorney who pulled out every obscure case on the books to substantiate his claim that since Luke neither owned nor was aware of the weapon on the premises, all charges against him should be dropped.”
“What the hell!” He was repeating himself. He had no other words. He didn’t blame her, at all, but...what the hell!
“I found the gun in his room, stuffed in his pillowcase. I took pictures before I left the scene. They’re time stamped.”
“I know. The arresting officers took pictures, too. But Luke claims that he doesn’t sleep in the bed. That he sleeps on the couch. He says the room is too small, reminds him of his cell. And that the bed is too big. He’s more comfortable on the couch.”
“It’s still his room. His pillow. The damned pillowcases even matched—the one on the couch and the one on the bed.”
“So you saw the one on the couch?”
“Yeah.”
“And the blanket?”
“Yeah, there was a blanket wadded up on the couch. Looked like he’d been taking a nap shortly before or when I got there...” He stopped. His words. And his tracks. Damn. He’d forgotten to tell Emma about the pillow and blanket on the couch—and had thus tainted her case.