CHAPTER 30

 

I barely sleep the night before my grand jury testimony, my worry about Luke keeping my mind occupied. I had hoped that Roy would be there, but neither he nor Luke will be part of the procedure, which stinks. The proceedings are informal and Roy explained that it’s usually not very hard to get an indictment. Jurors only decide whether a potential crime was committed and the self-defense argument won’t come into play until the trial, which could be a year away.

The thought that Luke might have to remain in jail until then terrifies me. So far, he hasn’t missed any of his classes, but his college will start back up next week. The topic of law school has been avoided, but I overheard Roy telling my mom that Luke will have problems with his bar admission even if he wins at trial. Apparently, any arrest has to be disclosed and lowers the chances of becoming a lawyer. I feel terrible that my brother may not fulfill his lifelong dream because he saved me, and my mood has been accordingly sullen.

Roy drops me off at the courthouse. “Keep your chin up, Kelsey, and whatever you do, tell the truth. You won’t help Luke by lying.”

I grimace, not sure what I could be lying about. Luke is a hero, and the sooner people realize that, the faster we can all move on with our lives.

When I lower myself on the bench by the jury room, my fingers twist together and I realize how sweaty they are. To distract myself, I study the stucco decorations on the ceiling, checking my watch from time to time. The subpoena said my testimony is scheduled for eleven, but it is already eleven fifteen and no one has come for me yet. At eleven thirty, I’m about to complain to the clerk when a woman turns the corner and steers right toward me.

“Ms. Miller?” she asks with a polite smile.

I nod, my mouth too dry to respond.

“I’m Deborah Gibbons from the district attorney’s office. Mr. Hutchinson would like a word with you before your testimony.”

I remember Hutchinson; he was the DA who handled Jed’s case. I bawled in his office when he informed me he was dropping the charges because of the screwup with the warrant. I have held a grudge ever since. The fact that he is now prosecuting Luke makes him even less likable.

I nevertheless follow behind her as she ushers me into the annex that houses the district attorneys. Hutchinson’s office is on the third floor and he’s alone when I enter. I am not sure if I should talk to him without Roy and reluctantly take a seat in the visitor’s chair across his desk. Gibbons grabs a chair behind me by the wall and I feel ganged up on.

Hutchinson is ancient, pushing close to sixty. He has always reminded me of a walrus with a gray mane, though I have always wondered if the hair is real. Every word he mutters is accompanied by a low wheeze and his teeth are yellow. He either drinks loads of coffee or is a heavy smoker.

“Ms. Miller, we got some new evidence this morning that would indeed suggest that your brother was allowed to use deadly force in defending you.”

All of a sudden, I want to hug him.

“As you know, my office is not eager to proceed with this case, given Jed Edwards extensive criminal involvement in the kidnapping of you and Ms. Garvey,” he continues, which puts a stupid grin on my face. “However, he is a victim like everyone else, and I need to justify if I do not move forward on a criminal charge.”

I’m not really sure what he is getting at. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well.” He and Deborah exchange a glance. “This morning, I got a rather unexpected visit from Mr. Brown, who disclosed that he is working for the DEA.”

I swallow hard. What the hell did Marcel do? This could jeopardize his whole mission.

“I have since confirmed his assignment with his superior, and therefore, I am inclined to rely on the new evidence he presented.”

Hutchinson’s eyes drill into me and I twitch under his glare as confusion settles in. If this is the case, what does he want from me?

He takes a clear plastic bag from a drawer that contains a switchblade and places it on the desk in front of me. “This, Ms. Miller, is the new evidence. Mr. Brown said that it was Jed’s and he was just about to slit your throat when Luke shot him. That, of course, would be a clear affirmative defense to your brother’s actions. However, you previously said that Jed only choked you, so I need you to confirm Mr. Brown’s statement.”

I almost blurt out that there was no knife—I distinctly remember Jed tossing it away—but stop myself at the last second. Truthfully, I don’t remember anything about the last moments before the shot went off and Jed could have had a second knife. Yet it is odd that Marcel never mentioned it before.

“It was dark and I was about to pass out, so I couldn’t even tell you, but I’m sure that Marcel wouldn’t lie. He is a highly decorated federal agent.” I have no clue if this is true but figure that someone who works that deep undercover must have received some recognition throughout his career.

“I guess that’s good enough.” Hutchinson gives me a fake smile. “I won’t proceed with the grand jury indictment, and I will let Roy know that he can collect Luke from the jail later today. It will take a few hours to process him out.”

My jaw drops. “That’s it?”

“Yes. I think this outcome is in everybody’s best interest. Jed was a criminal and I guess he got his justice in the end. I never wanted to charge your brother in the first place, but like I said, my hands were tied.”

I’m thrilled that all my worries were for nothing. With a wide grin, I thank him and even shake his hand when I bid him goodbye. There is so much relief and all I want to do is call Marcel to tell him how grateful I am.

He doesn’t answer his phone, so I leave a message. Determined to wait for Luke to be the first to congratulate him on his release, I stop by in the new coffee shop across from the jail and get a white chocolate latte and a lemon muffin. Opening up my Kindle app, I scroll through my library until I find the book I’m reading—Ferocious by Leigh W. Stuart.

It’s about this girl who gets these warnings from her kidnapped dead friend and feels lost because everyone thinks she is crazy. I can relate—having felt similarly these past years—though luckily, no ghost has ever spoken to me. The last thing I need is for Jed to come after me from his grave. The book still disturbs me a little, unleashing painful memories, but I’m determined not to let this bother me. After a while, I almost find the read therapeutic. She fights back, just as I did in the end.

I lose track of time and the ringing phone startles me. Marcel’s number flashes on the display. Eager to talk to him, I push the connect button, but it’s Finn on the other end of the line.

“Kelsey, please don’t hang up. I have no one else to call.” He sounds frantic. “Marcel got beaten and is really hurt.”

I gasp, feeling like I just collided head on with a truck. “What happened?” Crazy things shoot through my head. Tyrone probably found out who he is working for and is out to kill him.

“Tyrone sent a few men after Marcel to teach him not to disobey his orders again. He disappeared a few hours this morning and missed a delivery, so Tyrone was really pissed.” A sob drifts through the receiver. “Kelsey, they cut off his ear.”

My stomach turns at the news. “Did you take him to the hospital?” My breath is heavy, and I can hardly think straight.

Finn snuffles, his voice almost incomprehensible. “He refuses to go. There’s so much blood and I don’t know what to do.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting off the panic. “Where are you?”

“In a warehouse down by the docks on Commercial Street. I can ask Marcel for the exact address.”

My eyes scan the road for a cab. “I’ll be there in less than an hour. Text me the address.” Luckily, my mom gave me a prepaid credit card for Christmas, which has $500 on it. That should be plenty.

When I slide into the backseat of the taxi, my eyes fall on the front door of the jail where Roy is just about to enter. Luke will be fine without me—getting Marcel help is more important. He risked everything for me and now it’s time to repay him.

 

~~~~

 

He is in a worse state than expected, and I almost run out of the warehouse screaming when I see the puddle of blood around him. He’s huddled on the floor with his back against the wall, a soaked towel pressed to the side of his head. Even though his eyes are closed and he’s controlling his breathing, I can tell he is in a lot of pain.

His face is bruised with several cuts, his shirt torn. They really didn’t spare any part of him. Tyrone wanted the message delivered and his men beat the crap out of their leader. Marcel never had a chance.

I crouch next to him on the ground. “Hey, can you get up?”

He groans. “I can’t go to the hospital. Tyrone will kill me.”

“I know.” I rub his shoulder to comfort him, but when he flinches, my hand flies back. “We have to get you some medical attention. You’re losing too much blood.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I glance at Finn, who is leaning against the wall a few feet away before dropping my voice to a mere whisper. “What about the DEA? Maybe they can keep it under wraps?”

“That’s against protocol and they will pull me off the case.” His lips are barely moving before they contort to a painful grimace. He hisses, his head falling backward against the wall.

Tears fill my eyes when I realize how much he is suffering. I gaze at Finn again, who is paler than a ghost.

“Maybe we can take him home,” he suggests.

“No.” The anger roars inside me—I will not give Tyrone the satisfaction of seeing Marcel like this. My mind races through my options. I can’t take him to Stonehenge since Roy will call the cops and I don’t know anyone who is a doctor.

And then it hits me—Donna. She is an ER nurse and must be able to bandage him up.

“Where’s your truck?” I ask Finn.

“Up the road.”

“Get it.” I focus on Marcel. “Do you think you can make it to the truck?”

He finally opens his eyes, which are almost swollen shut. “Where are we going?”

“Donna’s.”

He groans again, this time more out of desperation. “She’ll be so mad.”

“Well, it’s either her or Tyrone. Take your pick.”

My arm slides around his waist when he tries to stand, and he yelps in pain. With unsteady feet, he stumbles forward and every so often, we take a break. His face is twisted in agony and a few times his knees almost buckle. Blood drips from the towel to the floor, leaving a little red trail behind us.

Finn reappears and takes over. “Get in the truck. I got him.”

He manages to heave Marcel into the passenger seat and I slide into the back. As soon as the engine starts, I text my mom to let her know I’m okay. I will still be in trouble for just disappearing without checking in with her first, but if I tell her it was an emergency with Marcel, she’ll get over it.

It’s not far to Donna’s house; I just pray she is home. A sigh of relief rolls over my lips when she opens the door.

All color leaves her face. “Oh my god!” She stares at Marcel with wide eyes. “What the hell happened to you?”

Marcel tries to produce a faint smile but fails when a moan shakes his body. “I had a little disagreement with my boss. No biggie.”

I could have slapped him for trying to pull this macho act.

Donna frowns before taking over. “Get him into the kitchen.”

With Finn’s aid, Marcel climbs onto a barstool. Donna puts on the kettle and disappears, returning with a stack of towels. Hallie is right behind her, hopping in on her crutches.

“What’s going on?” Her hair is sticking up and her voice is hoarse; she must have just woken up.

“What does it look like?” Donna growls. “Your friend’s work finally caught up with him.”

I grimace. Though we have never talked specifics about Marcel’s job situation, her suspicion that he is involved in gang activities always hung in the air like a dark cloud whenever he was around. I hate that this incident proves her right, even though the reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

Furiously, she scribbles down something on a notepad. I glance at Marcel, who is slumped on the barstool in total misery. He was right—she is absolutely pissed. Now I wonder if we would have been better off taking him to Tyrone. This stunt might have cost him his one chance with her.

She hands Finn the page from the notepad and 2 twenty-dollar bills. “Go to the drugstore down the road and get me this.” Her chin points to Hallie and me and then to the door. “You two wait upstairs. I get nervous when people stare at me while I work.”

I glance at Marcel with sympathy before following Hallie into her room with slumped shoulders. Twenty minutes later, Finn joins us; he has been banned from the kitchen as well. We talk with hushed voices, trying to listen to the noises from below.

A few muffled curses drift up on occasion, but otherwise, it stays quiet. Marcel must still be pretending to be tough and eating up the pain. I watch the clock on Hallie’s nightstand as the minutes pass by. My phone vibrates a few times in my pocket, yet the worry about my friend prevents me from picking up. It can only be Luke or my mom, who will want me to come home, but I’m not ready to leave Marcel until I know he’ll be okay.

It’s already getting dark when Donna comes upstairs. “He’s sleeping now. I stitched him up and it will take a few days, but then he should be almost as good as new.”

I can’t even imagine how he will look like without his ear, though I know firsthand, since the incident with Jed and Roxy, that there are reconstructive surgeries for this type of injury.

Finn gets up and stretches. “I’d better get going. Thanks for everything, Donna.” He grabs his jacket off the chair, not even glancing at me. “Marcel is a really nice guy. What happened today was not his fault.”

Donna grumbles something that sounds close to “He’s still a criminal.”

My eyes follow Finn as he strolls out. I want to call him back and ask him to take me home, but the words refuse to leave my mouth. While we were waiting, Hallie had told him about Drake. It would have been easy for him to get exonerated right on the spot. He didn’t offer and I didn’t push the subject.

Instead, the conversation went from awkward to dead, the atmosphere growing more pressing as the hours passed by. In the end, it was painful to be cramped together in the small room. Every time I glanced at him, my heart threatened to tear apart. Only Hallie’s forced chit chat kept me halfway sane, though it also prevented me from reaching out to him. Not that I would have known what to say, so it was probably for the best. We might have gotten into another argument if I had opened my mouth.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and dial the familiar number of the one person who has always bailed me out as long as I can remember.

Luke answers on the first ring. “Hey, Kels. I was worried about you. Where are you?” He tries to sound calm, but there is a panicked undertone.

“I’m in Portland at Hallie’s house and need a ride.” I step to the window and watch as Finn gets into the truck, taking off with too much speed. A part of my heart goes with him. I wonder if we’ll ever put our stubbornness aside and work things out between us.

Luke’s voice shouts in my ear. “Kels, are you still there?”

I swallow the building lump in my throat. “Yeah.”

“What’s the address?”

A few tears spring loose and I allow them to drop off my chin. With a last-ditch effort, I pull myself back together. “112 Chestnut Lane.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He cuts the line and I stare out in the dark, trying to will Finn to come back.

When I turn around, Donna is gone, but Hallie stares at me with sad eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. As soon as Napoleon is captured, you and Finn can kiss and make up.”

I want to cry again, but I’m simply too exhausted. The events of the day have utterly worn me out and I long for just one ordinary day in my life—a day where I don’t have contact with a law representative, don’t see any blood, and don’t worry about rape suspects. That would really be nice for a change.