by Shandi Boyes
Regan smiles and nods, grateful for Regina’s many years of experience and knowledge. After accepting her un-worded praise, Regina devotes her attention back to me. “But if you choose to go down that track, you need to find someone willing to corroborate your story.”
My first thought strays to Brandon, but the dull ache hitting my chest weakens its hypothesis. Brandon has always been supportive of me, but asking him to falsely testify would push the limits of our friendship. No matter how badly I want the charges dropped, I can’t ask Brandon to lie for me. He’s a great friend, and I’m sure he’d agree without a snippet of deliberation, but I refuse to put him in a predicament where he could lose his job, or even worse, his freedom. I’ll take the upper hand and have faith justice will prevail.
“I won’t have any more people dragged into this mess.”
A blinding grin stretches across Ryan’s face. “I don’t believe you need anyone to corroborate your story. The murder in Parkerville aids your case more than hinders it.”
“Murder? What murder?”
“The sheriff’s office in Parkerville issued an arrest warrant for Megan for the death of Carlyle Shroud. Her fingerprints were found on the poison used to kill him, and her skin fragments were embedded on the rope used to hang him. The police discovered the crime scene in Megan’s motel room as they were there to execute a warrant for her arrest.”
Part of his comment fills me more with dread than relief. The horrid things I witnessed that morning still haunt me, but as the days go on, they’re becoming less graphic. The smell, though, that’s something I’ll never forget.
“The jury will be more sympathetic when evidence of Megan’s murder charges are presented,” Regan remarks. “Adding a murder charge to her extensive medical records will significantly reduce the chance of the jury looking at her as solely a victim. The glasses the DA will give them to wear will now be smeared with dirt, so their compassion will be limited.”
Regina places her hand over my balled one in my lap. “Don’t look so worried, kiddo. The balance of power has shifted back into your court.”
“At Megan’s expense.”
Regina halfheartedly shrugs. “She will get justice, Isabelle, but only when we convict the right person for the crime.”
As my eyes bounce between the three pairs staring at me in admired sympathy, the knot in my stomach lessens. I’m confident Megan’s killer will be brought to justice. I just need to stop the DA’s finger being pointed at me first.
By the time Ryan and Regina head back to the foyer of Regan’s apartment, half an hour has passed. Much to Ryan’s dismay, I assured him I didn’t require the babysitter Hugo supposedly organized before he rushed out of here like his backside was on fire. He only agreed to leave when I swore on my Uncle Tobias’s grave that I wouldn’t leave Regan’s apartment until Hugo returned. It was a dirty tactic, but it guarantees I wouldn’t step foot outside of these walls without Hugo. I’d never do anything to taint my uncle’s name.
My heart swells when Regina wraps me up in a warm hug. “Once this all blows over, you better introduce me to your sex-on-a-stick. If he passes my stringent list of requirements to date you, you can be assured you Uncle Tobias would have also approved.”
The swelling of my heart increases as do the tears in my eyes. “I will.”
When Regina steps into the corridor, Ryan stands in her place. He’s smiling, but his eyes are brimming with apprehension. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod without pause. He’s stepped over a murky line to help me be granted bail, so the least I can do is answer any questions he may have.
“Were you with Isaac last night?”
My pulse beeps in my neck when I nod.
“Where?”
I clear the jitters from my throat with a quick swallow before answering, “We anchored his yacht a few miles off the Vela De Keys Marina.”
Relief smothers the unease corrupting his handsome face. “Okay. Thank you. That was very helpful.” After leaning in for an awkward hug, he joins Regina in the hallway. “I’ll be in touch the instant we have anything new.”
I wait for them to enter the elevator car before closing the door and returning to the living area to assist Regan with compiling the evidence in my case. There’s enough red tape to keep us going for months. I’m just about to take a seat when a loud tap sounds from the front door. Hugo wouldn’t need to knock as Regan gave him a key, so who else could it possibly be?
Regan’s suspicion is just as high as me. After yanking off her reading glasses, she nudges her head to the hallway that separates the living area from the sleeping quarters. “Go to your room.”
My teeth grit, hating that I’m being treated like a baby, but I follow her demand like a spineless coward. It’s her house, so, unfortunately, it’s also her rules.
My clumpy steps halt when, “Izzy, it’s Brandon,” booms through the door. “Are you home?”
A smile stretches across my tired face when my pivot busts Regan checking her face in the mirror. After dragging a finger across her glossy lips, she pinches her cheeks and rolls her shoulder back. She appears to give herself a mental pep talk before finalizing the last steps to the door to open it. Brandon’s jaw drops as he drinks in her svelte frame, but his cheeks are minus the pink hue he usually gets when flustered. He’s either finally caught on to Regan’s ruse, or Regan needs to up her game.
Although Regan doesn’t issue Brandon a greeting, her eyes happily absorb his body. Upon noticing her vigorous assessment of his physique, Brandon’s trademark lopsided grin pops out from behind Regan’s shoulder.
A giggle bubbles in my chest when Regan removes Brandon’s trench coat without seeking permission. She is as forward as she is beautiful, and it’s a fascinating exchange to watch from afar. A lioness is stalking her prey, and poor Brandon is the deer trapped in her headlights.
Once Regan has Brandon’s jacket hung in the entry closet, he dips his chin in thanks. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” Now Brandon’s cheeks bloom. It’s understandable. Regan’s words purred out of her mouth like a kitty.
When Brandon’s begging eyes lock with me over Regan’s shoulder, I join them in the foyer before greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.
My earlier giggle erupts when he murmurs, “She scares me,” into my ear.
“I heard that.” Regan wanders into the sunken living area, her hips swinging more with every step she takes. “And you should be scared.”
After gathering a stack of documents off the coffee table, Regan enters her office halfway down the hall, but not before one final rake of Brandon’s body. Once she’s disappeared from view, I shift on my feet to face Brandon. His eyes are wide and fixated in the direction Regan just went. I eye him curiously but give him time to appraise the situation. I know what it’s like when I’m zapped into Isaac’s vortex. Rational thinking is always the first thing to go. I’ve often said we’re too similar to ever be a couple, now I’m wondering just how similar we are. Is Brandon about to be trapped by his own alpha?
Several long, tedious minutes pass before the fog clouding Brandon lifts. When he turns to face me, I notice his hued cheeks are gone, but the cheeky sparkle in his eyes has been replaced with worry. He seems genuinely fretful about Regan’s attention, which is odd considering she’s an incredibly beautiful woman who could have her pick of any man.
“I hope you don’t mind me popping in like this, Izzy, but I couldn’t call you on your cell since Hunter smashed it, and I don’t have any of Regan’s contact details.”
“I can give them to you. All you have to do is ask.”
I had wondered if Regan had indeed left our conversation. Her comment proves she hasn’t. Laughing at her antics, I guide Brandon more toward the living room than the hallway Regan is camped out in. “Sorry, she’s a little…” My words trail off when I fail to find the appropriate word to describe her.
“Like Isaac?” Brandon fills in.
Grimacing, I nod.
While running his hand down his face, the panic in Brandon’s eyes switches to full-blown hysteria. “I just wanted you to know I understand you not being able to come to the gala with me. With everything going on, you’ve got more pressing matters to handle than being my date for a night.”
“The gala is this weekend?”
When he nods, I stomp my foot down like a child. I must be close to having an aneurysm with all the things I’ve forgotten this week. Brandon gave me a rundown of the event last weekend, but my brain has been understandably jumbled since then.
“It’s Friday night, but you don’t have to come.”
Guilt smacks into me hard and fast. Brandon has been nothing but supportive of me the past six months, and the one time I’m supposed to return the favor, I can’t.
Just as I am about to apologize for being a horrible friend, Regan steps out of her conspicuous hidey-hole. “You should go. Having you out in public with another man will help make the jury believe you have no association with Isaac.” The scent of vanilla frosting whips up around us when she stops to stand in front of me. “It will also aid in your innocent plea. Only people with something to hide are concerned about prosecution.”
“You don’t think it will be distasteful for me to go to a fancy gala with a death hanging over my head?”
Regan shakes her head. “No. You knew of Megan from an FBI agent perspective, but you have no personal connection to her whatsoever. You don’t mourn the death of a stranger.”
Wrinkles crease my forehead when I frown. I’m not mourning Megan’s death, but I do feel sorry that she came to ill harm. No one deserves that, not even someone who’s clearly psychotic. Megan’s condition wasn’t her fault, though. She was sick and required hospitalization.
“And with you being out of Ravenshoe for a few nights, I won’t have to check your room every ten minutes to make sure Isaac hasn’t snuck in.” I don’t take her statement as cheeky. The stern expression tainting her face is anything but playful.
I compile the facts in front of me before separating them into pros and cons. No matter how many times I work the facts, the results never alter. Going away with Brandon will do more good than it will harm. I just really hope Isaac reaches the same conclusion as me.
After clearing the brick in my throat with a quick shallow, I shift on my feet to face Brandon. His nervous knee bob stops when I ask, “What time are you picking me up?”
Chapter 16
Isaac
I’m icing swollen knuckles when Hugo barrels into my office. His hurried strides halt when his wide eyes lock on my newfound companion, who’s slumped in my office chair, holding a wad of ice to his right eye that’s nearly swollen shut.
He swallows hard when I snarl, “You didn’t think to inform me that it was your brother-in-law watching over my brother?” Anger surges through my body so hard and fast it physically shakes me. “You’re supposed to be invisible, Hugo, so how the fuck did he find you?”
He stares at the man I now know is Carey Hawke, his brother-in-law, before he devotes his attention to me. His eyes are brimming with torment, and his lips are set into a firm line, but his twitching hands give away the fear plaguing his usually carefree composure. This is the first time I’ve seen him display alarm in the years I’ve known him.
“Izzy.” One word and my attention is rapt. “She somehow got access to my sister’s case file. She knows what happened to Marjorie. Hawke followed the breadcrumbs her investigation left behind. It led him to Ravenshoe.” His voice is as low as my heart rate. “I spotted him outside Isabelle’s apartment building the day I took her to see Cormack. I thought I’d seen a ghost.”
“Isabelle knows what happened?” My surging heart rate is heard in my high tone.
I begin breathing again when Hugo shakes his head. “No. As far as I can tell, she only knows about my sister’s and nephew’s accident. She hasn’t connected all the dots just yet.”
Hawke’s anger about our tussle is heard in his voice when he asks, “Who is this Izzy? And why is she prying into my wife’s death?”
Even though he has a right to be angry, in my defense, I told him I only allow one strike before retaliating. He didn’t heed my warning, so he suffered the consequences of his actions. I’ll give it to him, though, his right hook is impressive. My jaw is still tingling.
“Isabelle is no concern of yours.” My tone warns I’ll once again be forced to retaliate if he ever speaks her name with the sneer he just used. It will just be harder the second time around—hard enough to kill.
“Izzy is one of the rare good ones, Hawke. She isn’t an enemy, and neither is Isaac.” Air hisses between Hugo’s teeth when he removes the wad of napkins from Hawke’s eye. He glares at me, pissed I gave his brother-in-law a black eye.
“I warned him. He swung first.” I’m not the least bit sorry. You don’t disrespect me on my turf and not anticipate repercussions for your actions. “He should be grateful I only inflicted one punch.”
Hugo aims to conceal a chuckle by coughing. His attempts are woeful. With his fists clenched at his side, Hawke stands from his chair, sending it toppling backward in the process. He glares at Hugo, giving him the same death stare he awarded me only an hour ago. It subdues Hugo more than it ruffles his feathers but not enough to stop his laughter.
“Hey, I warned you, yet you still came out swinging, so you deserved to be knocked out.”
“You’ll be kissing the pavement if you don’t shut your mouth.”
Hugo smiles, not the least bit confronted by Hawke’s threat. “Bring it on, big boy.” He bounces foot to foot while jabbing the air with his fists. His mood is the most carefree I’ve seen it in the past five years.
I scrub my hand over my head. As riveting as this family reunion is, I have more pressing matters occupying my time. The most vigilant, “Why aren’t you with Isabelle? I told you not to leave her side until this mess is sorted out.”
Hugo’s playful banter stops before he cranks his head back to face me. “She’s okay. Ryan and Regina are with her. When Tina called to say two bulls were going to battle in your office, I thought I better get here before you killed him.” His reply gives away a fatal flaw in my empire, but I’m too focused on what he says next to award it my full attention. “Ryan is with Izzy as there’s been a new development in her case.”
A knot forms in my stomach, but I remain quiet, waiting for him to continue. Mercifully, he doesn’t keep me hanging for long. “Izzy noticed that the bullet recovered from the scene had a volcanized material attached to it. She believes whoever is framing her recovered the bullets from the tires she shot out Saturday morning. I called Roger on the way here. He took the Audi to be repaired at a mechanic on 93rd Street. It’s still there as they had to order special tires.”
As the pieces of the puzzle click together, I shoot my eyes to Hawke. I learned quickly not to form an opinion on someone without first fully unearthing who they truly are, but I don’t have time to deliberate on his reasons for being here. We don’t have a second to spare, much less the hours it will take to unravel someone as complex as him.
I return my eyes to Hugo. “Can he be trusted?” I jerk my chin to Hawke during the ‘he’ part of my question. Hugo is my most loyal employee, so I’ll trust him if he says I can speak openly with Hawke in the room.
Hugo nods without a pause for thought. “Hawke ain’t a tattler, so you can be assured nothing will leave this office.”
When his eyes drift to Hawke, he nods, agreeing with him.
“All right.” I cough to clear my throat, praying this isn’t the one time my intuition leads me astray. “The two male police officers who brutalized Isabelle during her arrest went missing last night. Ryan said their patrol cars were found in a junkyard on 93rd Street.”
Hugo’s brows tack together. “Are they trying to pin this on you or add more charges to Izzy’s false accusations?”
“I don’t know. Ryan straight-up
asked if I had anything to do with it. I don’t think he would have notified me that they’re missing if he truly suspected I was the assailant.”
After a few seconds of deliberation, Hugo peers at Hawke. “You up for a drive?”
When Hawke jerks up his chin, I gather my jacket from the coat rack in the corner of my office. It’s halfway on when Hugo says, “Leave this to us, Isaac. You need to get some sleep.” The genuine concern in his eyes appeases my need to jump in with an immediate retort. “When was the last time you slept?”
I fasten the buttons on my coat before replying, “I’ll sleep when Isabelle is back in my bed where she belongs. Until then, sleep is the last thing on my mind.”
Not giving him the right of a reply, I exit my office. Both men closely shadow me.
Nine police cruisers, two CSI vans, and one pissed-off detective confront us when we arrive on the scene at 93rd Street. Although Ryan’s scorn can’t be heard over the clicking of CSI cameras, there’s no doubt it was peppered with curse words. His lips are as harsh as the glare he’s giving me.
After shoving a handful of documents into the chest of a slightly overweight African American lady seated in the passenger seat of his unmarked police car, he quickly spans the distance between us. His fast, efficient steps have him reaching us before we even get close to the police tape securing the premises from prying gawkers.
“You can’t be here.” His tone is firm, yet panicked.
“Me? Weren’t you supposed to be watching Isabelle?”
Hugo doesn’t need me to voice the urgency of the situation. He jumps into his car, the squeal of his tires heard for the first two miles when he takes off in the direction Regan’s apartment building.