by Levine, Nina
She’s been a pain in my ass since she got here. But I’ve held my tongue and I can manage to hold it for a few more hours.
“She does. You got lucky today.”
As I make my way up the stairs, I glance back and take in the scene in front of me—Sean having so much fun with his friends and Luke happy and relaxed in a way I haven’t seen before. Something has shifted in him recently. He’s even started talking to me more about his past. Opening himself up and sharing some of those hidden parts of his soul that he’s kept locked tight.
As I think about moving in with him, my thoughts slam hard up against a wall in my mind.
Jolene.
That file sitting in my bag.
Why, God?
Why did you have to make this so damn complicated?
Why did you have to give me a conscience?
I traipse into the kitchen in search of coffee. I’ll save the vodka for after the party. I try to ignore it, but Jolene’s file glares at me from the kitchen table as I walk past. It’s shoved inside my bag, but it’s still glaring at me.
You could just forget you ever saw it.
Yes, but an innocent woman might be sitting in prison.
Luke’s already told you she’s guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. Leave it.
Yes, but…
No buts. Clearly, she’s guilty. You’d just be stirring up shit. Luke doesn’t need to go through all that again.
But what if she’s not? What if she just needs someone on her side?
I make coffee and decide to put the file out of my mind for now. I’m going to spend today celebrating Sean’s birthday. After Luke goes to work tonight and Sean goes to bed, I’ll flick through it again. I know, though, that it’s going to be a long night of me wrestling with my conscience. This file is not something I want in my life and it would be far easier to throw it in the bin than deal with it.
By 10:00 p.m., I’m exhausted. The party ended on a high and Sean was more animated than ever. Luke stayed as long as he could to try to settle him, but by six, I was alone after he went to work and Paris went out for dinner with her friends. He finally fell asleep just after seven thirty at which point I collapsed onto the couch with vodka and Jolene’s file.
I pored over it for two hours. I’ve taken copious notes, but I don’t feel like I’ve gotten anywhere. I keep circling back to the old man who lived next door and to Marion’s thoughts on Jolene. Those two pieces of the puzzle seem to be the key to delving further into this.
I need to talk with them.
Oh, God.
I need to meet Luke’s wife.
My phone rings.
Luke.
“Hey, sexy man. How’s your night?”
“It’s busy as hell here. I doubt I’ll get out of here early tonight.”
“So no sexy times tonight? Geez, dude, you’re letting the team down. Two nights in a row.”
“Go to bed now. You’re going to need some energy when I get home.” Bossy Luke.
I squeeze my legs together. “A girl can dream.”
“And Callie?”
“Yes?”
“Be ready for a long night.”
“You kill me, Mr Hardy.”
“I’m just repaying the favour, baby.”
My conscience wars with itself after our call, Jolene’s file still glaring at me from the couch.
She’s guilty. Walk away now.
You just want her to be guilty so she can’t rock your happy little boat.
She can’t rock my happy boat. Luke doesn’t love her anymore.
But he wants a family for his son.
He can have me. I have mummy skills.
Yeah, but he’s always wanted the mother and father together with the child. He wants what he never had.
I hate you. Why the fuck did you have to bring that up?
Luke slides into bed around four-thirty the next morning. I’ve had the worst night’s sleep and have tossed and turned for hours, so I’m half awake when he gets home. His arm snakes over my waist and pulls me tightly against him while his leg rests over mine. I wait for him to make his move, but he doesn’t.
“Long night?” I ask.
“Yeah, a long fucked-up night. Nothing but problems.” His exhaustion weaves itself through his words.
I turn to face him and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry you had such a shitty night.”
“I’m sorry I’m so late.” His eyes find mine in the dark.
“Go to sleep, baby,” I whisper.
“Tomorrow you’re mine. I don’t know when or how, but I’m not going another day without you.”
I smile. “We could do some washing while you fuck me on the washing machine. I don’t even care if it’s a quickie while Sean sleeps.”
He groans and grinds himself against me. “Or you could just keep talking dirty now. My cock can’t resist your filthy mouth.”
“Your cock can’t resist me, full stop. I could wrap my lips around it and give you a little A-game action.” I push my pussy against him. “But you know what I’ve been missing real bad? Your mouth on my tits. I’d do just about anything for that.”
He pushes his cock inside me. Just a little way in before pulling back out. “You want that or my mouth?”
“Too many decisions. Can’t I have both?” I find his lips and kiss him. Slow, because it matches the mood he’s in.
He groans into my mouth. “We can’t always have everything we want.” His cock enters me again and I try to take him all the way in. He pulls back out before I succeed.
I wrap my arms tight around his neck and drag his lips to mine. After I kiss him, I say, “Luke, I just need you to fuck me. No foreplay. No dirty talk. Just your cock, fast and hard.”
He hisses. “Fuck,” he rasps.
A second later, his cock is as deep inside me as it can be and my man gives me what I need.
It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep after we’re done.
Curled up with Luke’s arms around me and his steady breaths against my ear as he sleeps is my happy place.
“What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours?” Luke asks as he moves behind me. He wraps his arms around me, settling his hands on my stomach. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”
He’s right. I have been.
This morning has been filled with playtime. Sean and I spent a couple of hours outside playing so Luke could get some sleep after his long shift last night. I know for sure now that I have to see my Jolene investigation through. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t and she was indeed innocent. Just one look at her son this morning and I knew this was the path I’d be taking. He at least deserves the chance to have his mother in his life.
My body tenses in Luke’s arms. I place my hand on his. “I’m sorry. I’ve just got some work stuff on my mind.”
He turns me to face him, arms still around me. “You wanna talk about it? Go over it maybe?”
Yes.
No.
Fuck, no.
“I actually think I should probably go so I can work on it at home in the quiet,” I say hesitantly. Sean’s just gone down for a nap and I know Luke was looking forward to some alone time. It’s crazy talk for me to be passing up make-out time, but I don’t think I have it in me today.
He frowns, but he doesn’t argue. “You do whatever you need to, baby,” he says. “But before you go, I need this.” His lips meet mine and he treats me to one of his long, slow kisses—the kind that nearly bring me to my knees each time.
When he lets me go, I fight to catch my breath. “I’ll only be a few hours. I’ll check in on Mrs Harper while I’m there, and I’ll be back before dinner. You owe me pizza.”
His eyes flash with lust and his voice is gravelly when he speaks. “You better go before I change my mind and make you stay.”
Guilt floods me as I leave.
Luke’s watching me back out of his driveway. He thinks I’m going home when in fact I’m about to drive to his
old neighbour’s new home.
I’m about to move my investigation to the next level.
Luke’s old neighbour lives about twenty minutes from him now and I spend the entire drive there psyching myself up to talk to him. Marion’s notes gave me his new address, but there was no phone number and I couldn’t locate it online, so he doesn’t know I’m coming. I’m hopeful he’ll be home and that he’ll agree to talk to me.
As I walk the short distance from his front gate to his door, I smooth my dress. It doesn’t need smoothing, but my hands need something to do. I’m not even sure why I’m full of so many nerves. It’s just an old man for goodness’ sake and I’ve just got a few questions for him. Surely he won’t slam the door in my face.
It’s not him you’re nervous about.
I knock on his door and wait. A good few minutes pass with no answer, so I knock again, this time a little louder.
Another few minutes lapse before the door is slowly pulled open. A hunched-over elderly man squints at me. “What?” he barks.
I jump a little, mostly from my nerves rather than from his tone. “Ah, Mr Beacon?”
“Yes. Who’s asking?” He speaks so loud, which makes me think he’s a little deaf.
I take a deep breath and steady myself. “My name is Callie St James and I’m investigating the Jolene Hardy murder case. Would you have a few minutes to spare so I can ask you some questions?”
He scowls. “I’ve already told the police everything I know. Fat lot of good that did because those wankers didn’t even listen. Shot me down in court was all they did.”
My lips twitch at his language. “I know, and that’s the reason I’d like to talk with you. I’m looking into Jolene’s innocence.”
“Of course she’s innocent,” he barks. His firm belief encourages me to push harder.
I take a step forward as if my entry into his house is assured. “Please just give me a few moments of your time so I can go over it again with you. I’m going to be speaking with Jolene tomorrow, so I’d really appreciate your time today.”
I’m pretty sure it’s my last statement about talking with Jolene that does it. He shuffles back and lets me in. I take a few steps inside and wait for him to close the door and lead me into his lounge room where we both take a seat. His house is stuffy. It has that closed-up smell that my grandma’s home used to have. I draw my breaths sparingly—I don’t love this smell or the memories of my childhood they bring.
“What do you want to know, girly?” He’s still squinting at me.
“How close were you to Jolene?”
“I lived next door to them for just over a year. In that time, she visited me a few times a week to make sure I was okay. She often took my clothes to be dry-cleaned and usually picked up groceries for me once a week, sometimes more. Oh, and my scripts from the chemist—she picked them up, too. I didn’t know her so well, but she always made sure I had what I needed.”
Totally not what I was expecting.
I jot my notes down fast.
“Did you ever see her with her mother?”
He nods. “Her mother visited her every couple of weeks, sometimes more. I know this because my favourite spot in my house was my sunroom and I sat there every day observing the comings and goings of my neighbourhood. You see some interesting stuff when you watch people.”
“What did you see happen between Jolene and her mother?”
“A lot of arguing. Her mother was mean to her. And hounded her for money a lot. I asked Jolene about that one day and she said she hated to say no to her mother, even though she knew most of the money would be going towards drink and gambling. Problem was Jolene didn’t work, so she had to sneak the money from her husband without him knowing.”
“Do you know why she didn’t work? Was it so she could look after their son?” I’m not even sure this question is relevant, but I’m desperate to know everything about her.
He scoffs. “No, that woman didn’t have much of a maternal bone in her body. She loved her son as much as she knew how to. I never saw her treat him wrong, but she didn’t know much about mothering. Figures, with a mother like hers. Reason she didn’t have a job, as best I can work out, is she didn’t have the confidence to get one. Jolene didn’t have an ounce of self-belief.”
Everything he’s saying is matching up to what Marion told me about Jolene.
I cock my head. “How did you two meet? From what you’re saying, Jolene didn’t know how to care for people, but by the sound of it, she cared for you.”
“She fell over in her driveway one day. I saw the whole thing. When she didn’t get up, I went to help her. Called an ambulance for her and checked in on her a few times after. Seems she appreciated that because that was when she started looking in on me.” He leans forward. “That’s how I know for sure it was Jolene I saw getting in her car that night of the murder.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“When she fell, she hurt her leg real bad. Had a slight limp afterwards. Didn’t affect her all the time, but when she was in pain, she limped. The night of the murder, the woman getting in the car parked in her driveway had the same limp. The streetlight was bright and I know it was Jolene I saw. And I know what time it was by what was on the TV.”
“That wasn’t in my notes.”
He shrugs. “The damn lawyers only wanted to talk about my eyesight at the trial. The prosecution paraded experts who tried to prove me wrong, focusing on my eye condition. I’m not so sure Jolene had the best lawyer out there. She didn’t seem able to bring the limp to the forefront of anyone’s mind. The prosecution was like a dog with a bone, all over the problems with my eyesight—all she seemed to do was spend her time arguing over that rather than changing the direction of the testimony.”
He might be old, but his mental faculties are all still there. And I’m inclined to give his information more weight than the prosecution did. He doesn’t beat around the bush, and he calls it as he sees it. Most importantly, he didn’t wear rose-coloured glasses where Jolene was concerned. Mr Beacon had no reason to lie or to be inclined to give false evidence. He truly believes in Jolene’s innocence.
29
Callie
My knee bounces while I wait at the cold, metal table for Luke’s wife. The empty feeling in the pit of my stomach grows more acute with each passing minute.
She should be here by now.
The other prisoners are already sitting with their visitors. I can’t work out why Jolene hasn’t entered the courtyard yet. Unless she’s refusing to see me.
As my head throbs with a headache, I wish I had my handbag with me, but they forbid any personal belongings here. I had to lock them away in a locker. I have no notebook or pen either; everything she says—if she comes out—will need to be filed in my brain for later note taking.
The allowed visiting time is one hour only. At this point, I think we’re down to fifty minutes if she comes soon.
More time passes and my hope begins to fade. It appears I’ve taken the morning off work for nothing. And without speaking to Jolene, I’m not sure I’ll have much to continue this investigation with.
Another few minutes slide by. Just as I’m about to concede defeat today, a woman walks my way.
Jolene.
I’ve seen photos of her online and in Marion’s file. This woman is a ghost of her former self, but I can make out that it’s her. The long dark hair is gone, replaced by short hair that looks like she hacked at it herself. Dull skin sits in place of the glowing, tanned skin she once had. Her weight has dropped considerably. Jolene had curves in the photos I saw; she’s now stick thin, almost skin and bones.
Luke’s wife was once beautiful.
She’s not anymore.
I stand as she approaches. I smile, unsure if that’s the right thing to do. She doesn’t return it, so I let it go.
“Hi. Jolene?” My voice gives away my uncertainty.
“Yes. Who are you?” Her voice is suspicious.
&nb
sp; I sit and wait for her to follow, but she doesn’t. Looking up at her, I give her the information she’s looking for, only fudging it a little. “I’m Callie St James, a reporter. Marion Kowaski showed me the file she had on your case and I’m following up on some leads.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re investigating the murder again?” The ice surrounding her slices through me and I see why people describe her the way they do.
“Please sit and I’ll explain everything.”
She holds back.
I meet her gaze and wait. When she continues standing, I decide my time is running out too fast to delay any longer. “Marion told me she believes in your innocence. I’ve gone over all her notes numerous times and I’ve spoken with Mr Beacon. Now I’d like to talk with you and hear what you have to say.”
“Are you writing another piece on this?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m trying to help you, that’s all.”
She begins picking at the blue shirt she’s wearing. “No… No, I don’t want your help.”
I stand, growing impatient for this to move forward. “Jolene, from where I’m standing I’d say you need all the help you can get. You’re facing decades behind these bars if you don’t accept what I’m offering. Every article I read declares your guilt. No one believes you except Marion and your old neighbour. But more importantly, no one believes them. You’re all out of options. Except for me.”
She steps closer to the table. Her eyes bore into me. “Do you believe me?”
My heart speeds up. “I honestly don’t know. But I have serious doubts and that’s enough for me to pursue this.”
“Well, at least you’re honest.” Her gaze drops to the cement floor for a long moment. Finally, she sits and looks at me. “If you’re not doing a piece for the paper, why are you bothering? What do you get out of this?”
I stare at her. Negative energy seeps out of her. She’s beaten and bruised so deeply I can see her wounds if I dig past the hostile veneer. “I can’t, in good conscience, sit back and let an innocent woman pay for a crime she didn’t commit. I get nothing out of this except knowing I tried to help a human being who is alone in this world and who desperately needs someone in her corner. If you really don’t want my help, just say so now and we can go our separate ways. But if you want me to help prove your innocence, you need to lose the attitude and start talking.”