Chapter Twenty-Six
Technically, she had the day off, but Eden rounded the front desk of the Bluelick PD at nine in the morning, waved at the officer on duty, and made her way down the hall to the holding cells. As she prepared to go through the security door, it swung open. A tall, startlingly handsome man in a blue and tan checked button down and light tan dress pants stood there, facing the cells, saying, “I’ll see you guys at the courthouse this afternoon. Take it easy.”
“Thanks Roger.” Kenny and Dobie’s voices chorused from beyond the door. The man turned, holding a leather briefcase in his other hand, and dazzling blue eyes widened in surprise.
“Beg your pardon, miss…um…” He paused, obviously weighing the probabilities… “Officer?”
“Officer Brixton,” she confirmed and held out a hand. “Eden Brixton.”
His smile dazzled even more than his summer sky eyes. The hand that clasped hers was firm and warm. “Roger Reynolds. Attorney at Law. I’m here to help these fellows out of this mess they’ve landed themselves in.”
“I’m sure they’re in very good hands. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“No, no. We’re done. They’re all yours.” With another pulse-elevating smile, he departed. She resisted the urge to turn and watch such a well-dressed specimen of male beauty walk down the hall. She was off men for the duration.
“Stop yer drooling,” Kenny teased. “He’s gay.”
Now she did glance back and caught one last glimpse of the man before he turned the corner. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Dobie replied. “Pretty sure. But you can double-check with his live-in boyfriend Doug, if you don’t want to take our word for it.”
She came fully into the room and shut the door behind her. “I’ll take your word. Guys, how are you?”
“Okay,” they said in unison. “Roger swears we’ll be out on bail after our court appearance this afternoon. He says,” Dobie went on, “we’re in trouble, but not like, super-bad.”
Eden nodded. “He’s the expert. Do what he tells you.”
“So,” Dobie looked down, then up at her. “You’re a cop?”
“’Fraid so.”
“No, it’s cool.” Kenny propped his arms along the crossbar and leaned forward. “We were, like, part of an undercover deal.”
“It’s true. You guys were not the target, though.” She dropped into the empty metal folding chair their lawyer had placed between their cells. “What’s next, once you make bail?”
Kenny winced. “A treatment program. My parents insisted, and Roger thinks it will save the court the trouble of ordering one.”
She looked at Dobie. “You, too?”
He nodded. “I was kinda thinking of quitting, anyway. I’m tired of wasting all my money on weed. According to Roger, Roscoe will hold my job for me as long as I complete a whole twenty-eight days.”
“Good. That’s really good. I’m proud of both of you for agreeing to do a program, and I’ll be even more proud when you finish.”
“Hey, Eden?”
“Yes?” She stood and approached Dobie’s cell.
“Swain came by last night. He said the thing between the two of you wasn’t just a cover, and I got pissed at him for doing…well…the thing he did. I might have, kinda, told him you were in love with him.”
“It’s okay.” With a sigh, she went on. “I don’t really know what the thing with Swain was anymore, but I’m just going to have to get over it. Like I told you that afternoon, I can’t trust him after this, and without trust the rest is doomed.”
“I’m not so sure,” Dobie said. “Swain didn’t come off as guilty when I confronted him. More sad, I guess. He said after everything we’ve just been through Kenny and I should know things aren’t always what they look like.”
The words sent an unsettling ripple through her. They hadn’t been what they’d looked like. But still, the video played vividly in her mind—a full-color confirmation of all the warnings from her better judgment she’d chosen to ignore. If he’d picked up another case, wouldn’t he have told her that, at least at a high level? “He didn’t by any chance say what it should look like, though, did he?”
“No,” Dobie admitted, sounding slightly defeated for the first time.
“No, he didn’t.” Her heart—the one she hadn’t even realized had tried to float to the surface—slowly sank again.
…
Swain sat in a booth at DeShay’s Diner, across from Malone, listening to his boss run down the situation with Jeb Rawley and his string of dealers.
“They’re not going to get off easy, like Kenny and Dobie,” Malone assured him. “The judge set bail high, to send a message. Earl Rawley is spitting mad. He may calm down, given time, but right now he’s not about to put a bond on the bar just to spring Jeb.”
“Good.” He’d disliked Jeb from the moment he’d met the man, though, if he were being honest, it had nothing to do with his criminal acts. He hadn’t liked the way the guy looked at Eden—or any woman—for that matter. There was something slimy and entitled about Jeb Rawley. Maybe a stint in lockup would cure it.
Maybe not.
Malone eyed him from over the rim of his lemonade glass. “Did you figure out how you managed to get crossways with Eden?”
Swain gave a pained laugh. “Yeah.” He balled up his napkin and tossed it on the remains of his chicken fried steak, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “Dobie was at the Gas N Go that morning. He caught an eyeful of me on my way out of Hill’s room at The Hideaway.”
“Ah.” Malone winced. “Ran right to Eden to share the news?”
He nodded. “Complete with video.”
“Well, shit. I didn’t give the boy enough credit. Spark of genius, right there, thinking to document it. We’ve got the phone in custody?”
“Buchanan does. The video won’t circulate.”
“Okay. All right, then.” He dusted his palms together over his plate. “All’s well that ends well.”
Swain shrugged.
Malone’s bushy brows lowered. “Didn’t you talk to her?”
“Not yet.” He looked at Malone. “I haven’t really had a chance to speak to her privately, but even if I did, what to say is tricky. I figure that’s need-to-know.” He stared out the window without taking anything in. “It’d be easier if she’d just trust me.”
“Shit, boy.” Malone tossed his napkin onto his plate. “She’s Bluelick PD. We maintain a bond of trust with our fellow law enforcement personnel. Get yourself out of the doghouse. Consider her need-to-know.”