#1-3--The O’Connells

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  At the same time, she wondered how he’d managed to get in a jam so close to her home. She knew deep down that Jack wouldn’t have called her for help under ordinary circumstances, so what the hell had really happened? She needed the police report, the evidence they had. Her brother Marcus would have access to the kinds of information that, for a lawyer, would either make or break a case. But then she’d have to tell him, and right now she was putting that off as long as she could.

  While the espresso machine steamed and whirred as she filled a mug, there was a knock at her door. She flicked off the machine and carried the mug, now filled with a long dark brew, over to the door with her as she strode barefoot, wearing a bulky white T-shirt and sweatpants. It was likely Owen, ready to pick back up where he’d left off the night before. But as she looked in the peephole, who was there but her sister, Suzanne?

  Karen flicked the lock and pulled open the door. “Why are you here?” she said, noting Suzanne’s tidy blue firefighter’s uniform, her dark hair hiked back high in a ponytail.

  Suzanne stepped past Karen and into her condo. “Owen called this morning, said he dropped you off at home last night and your car is still at work. Said you may need a ride. You have coffee on? Because I didn’t have time to grab any this morning. Was planning on getting some at the firehouse…”

  She was still talking from the kitchen. All Karen could do was give her door a shove closed as she listened to her sister rummaging through her cupboards. Karen just lifted her mug and took a swallow, hoping to clear the cobwebs from her head. She wanted to kick her brother, who, evidently, was determined to have everyone in her family knocking on her door until she bit the bullet, so to speak, and spilled all her secrets.

  “I still can’t believe you bought this fancy coffee machine,” Suzanne said, already working it, having made herself at home, just like all her family did when they dropped by. There was just something about all of them, as if they knew no boundaries.

  “So Owen called you this morning and said…?” Karen started. She let it linger. Her voice was raspy, likely from lack of sleep, and her head was spinning.

  Suzanne tossed her a glance over her shoulder as she made herself an espresso, the noise of the machine welcome in the quiet room. “Said you’d need a ride to the office. Apparently he had a call at the crack of dawn, some emergency plumbing situation, busted pipes or something, and couldn’t get you. I said I’d stop by on my way to the station. By the looks of you, you need to shake a leg and throw some clothes on. I’m pulling the early shift today, and you look like you barely slept. You up all night working?”

  What was she supposed to say to that? “You could say that. New case, trying to figure out the where, the when, and the how—you know. But Owen shouldn’t have called you. I can throw on a pair of sneakers and walk the few blocks to my car.”

  There, perfect. She’d get her sister out, but then, Owen would likely keep hounding everyone until she spilled. That was just something he did when he thought one of the siblings should be doing something another way, namely his way.

  “You sure?” Suzanne said. “Because it sounded to me like it was important. Owen also said there was something you needed to tell all of us and that I should make a point of asking.”

  She curled her fingers around her mug and then lifted it and took another swallow. He really was going to keep pushing and pushing. She found herself letting out a rough laugh that had her sister lifting a brow mockingly. “Asshole…” she muttered under her breath.

  Suzanne gestured with her mug of coffee toward her. “Hmm, I see. Now I’m really curious. Something going on?” She lifted her wrist and looked at her watch while taking another swallow of coffee. “And I need to get going, so how about telling me what’s what? You know I’ll likely find out anyway.”

  Karen just stared at her sister, who had inherited the same height her brothers had, coming in at five foot seven. Karen, meanwhile, was the same five feet as their mom and had inherited the curves Suzanne hadn’t. “I did something years ago that’s coming back to haunt me,” she said.

  Suzanne froze with the mug of coffee halfway to her mouth. “And Owen knows,” she replied. It wasn’t a question, but Karen knew Suzanne wouldn’t let it drop. “Come on. Spill, Karen! Rip the Band-Aid off. Tell me. You know nothing you did could surprise me, considering all the trouble you looked for and found. I still wonder at how you emerged unscathed…”

  “I was married,” Karen said, cutting her sister off.

  Suzanne’s expression said everything of how shocked she was.

  “He called last night because he’s found himself in jail, and Owen knows only because he showed up at my office. He was there when Jack called, and he drove me to Sweetwater County jail, where he’s behind bars. You’re right, I do need to get my car, because I need to go see him. I said I would help him, try to get him out. Owen believes I should tell everyone, but you know what? There’s so much about my relationship and history with Jack that I don’t want to talk about. I don’t want to have any of you looking at me as if I totally and completely fucked up and then adding in your two cents, wondering what I was thinking. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Suzanne made a face and shrugged. “Well, okay then. I have no idea what to say to that, and…” She rested her mug on the counter after taking a big swallow and glancing at her watch again. “Well, I need to get to the station. Let me know, will you, when you plan on telling everyone the story? Because I want to be there. Wow, married, you?” It was mocking. Suzanne was shaking her head as she walked to the door, then pulled it open and glanced back to Karen. “Oh, I take it you don’t want a ride?”

  Karen tossed her a long, lingering look, as if to say, Get real. Suzanne just stepped out, shaking her head again.

  She heard her phone ding as she stared at the closed door. When she reached for it, she took in the text. It was Suzanne, already prying for more.

  So when, where, and how? Like…holy shit, sister! Details please!

  She tossed the phone back on the counter, feeling her carefully concealed secret spiralling out of control. This was like opening Pandora’s box, and the life she had created with secrets and lies would be exposed for everyone to see.

  Yeah, nothing about this left her with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

  Chapter Five

  Karen took in the Sweetwater County jail. She’d been inside too many times to count, but something about sitting parked out front in her practical Honda this morning was different. Scratch that. Everything about this situation had shifted from business to far too personal. To make it worse, she still didn’t understand why Jack had called her—and why now?

  A tap on her window had her jumping, pressing her hand to her heart. It was her brother Marcus, in his sheriff’s uniform, leaning down to her window, but it took her another second to reach for the handle and open it.

  Marcus rested his hand on the door frame. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing here?” Everything in his expression was both curious and all cop, though his shades hid the O’Connell blue of his eyes.

  As she stepped out, wearing black pumps and a navy skirt with a white sleeveless silky blouse, she took her time considering what to say. It seemed her family was ganging up on her, even though it wasn’t rational.

  “You have a client in jail here?” her brother added when she didn’t answer.

  “So to speak. What are you doing down this way, out of your jurisdiction? Thought you didn’t work weekends,” she said. Having her brother here before she had a chance to talk to Jack wasn’t ideal, considering how rattled she was.

  “I work all the time. That’s kind of what being a sheriff is: When someone calls, I’m there. Just here now for a local theft that’s crossed a couple county lines. Oh, and Owen sent me an odd text. Said you were trying to get a hold of me?”

  There it was. She felt her jaw tighten as she cursed her brother under her breath. It seemed he was being true to his word and seeing
to it that everyone in the family found out. She just shook her head. “Owen shouldn’t have done that,” she replied.

  Marcus towered over her. She hated having to look up as he rested his arm on the top of her Honda while she reached in for her briefcase, then closed the door. “Okay…what gives?” he said, then let out a rough laugh. She could see his amusement. “You and Owen knocking heads over something?”

  If only it were that simple.

  “Just a big brother who can’t mind his own business, is all,” she replied.

  Marcus pulled his shades down his nose and peered at her. “Come on, Karen. This is me, remember.”

  She was positive she held her breath, then had to look away to the jail, knowing that Jack was inside and she needed to get her ass in there instead of standing here and having this conversation. Damn Owen!

  “Okay, here it is,” she said. “Can you do me a favor and find out information on a client of mine? The name is Jack Curtis. I need the details surrounding why he was charged with murder, who he killed, what they have on him…you know, all the usual dirt. I need to find out what you all have against my client so I can figure out a way to save his ass.”

  She wanted to pat herself on the back. Right, just treat him like every other client. This was business—even though she’d been married to the man, and he had a restraining order out against her, yet here she was, walking into a police station for him. There were way too many questions surrounding all of it.

  “Your client has been arrested and you didn’t get the police report?”

  Okay, maybe she needed to add a little more. He didn’t even try to hide his confusion.

  “Well, the call came in late last night, you know, and…” She started walking.

  Marcus rested his hand on her arm to stop her. “Okay, hold up. What’s really going on, Karen? Because now I’m starting to think you’re blowing me off. Why would Owen text about a client and you’re trying to get a hold of me? That makes no sense. I know you. Come on, what’s going on, really?” His hand was still on her arm, and she took in how serious he now seemed.

  “You know, I’d rather not say,” she replied.

  Marcus inclined his head, pulled his shades off, and tucked them in his shirtfront. “Why?”

  Did she want to answer him? No. At the same time, she was seeing this spiraling into something even further out of her control. Didn’t she know how to manage the spin on a story? Of course she did. That was what she did.

  “What is it with you and Owen always pushing?” she snapped. “Fine, here it is. You want all the dirt? Yes, it’s about my client inside, who called me last night…but I was married to him.” She lifted her hand and swept it to the station, maybe because she couldn’t think of what else to do upon seeing the shock on her brother’s face. “Yes, your face says everything. That’s why I didn’t want to share any of this personal fuck-up. It was a really long time ago, a blip. We were married, and then he was gone, walking out the door, telling me to fuck off. Oh, right, and then there’s the matter of the restraining order he had against me—something about me threatening him in one of the more than two hundred messages I left.

  “Sheriff Bert actually tracked me down when I was just about to start clerking for Judge Thompson, just finishing with the public defender’s office. We had a sit-down, or rather, he made me sit. Just FYI, this was when you were still a green deputy and had just started working for the sheriff’s office, so that should give you an idea that this all happened in another lifetime. I was kind of like you back then, always finding trouble. Sheriff Bert felt the need to step in because of how far off the rails I had gone. He basically informed me how badly this was all going to play out for me if I didn’t get my shit together and leave the guy be, but then, when a guy marries you and then tells you to fuck off two days later, what is a girl to do?”

  She knew she was being dramatic. She’d never seen this look on Marcus’s face before. “Right, okay then. Good talk. Now, listen. If you have any questions, don’t ask, because I don’t want to discuss it, and I really need to get inside now and see this man I never expected to see again. So, if you don’t mind…” She gripped the handle of her briefcase and started to turn when Marcus slapped a hand on her arm, holding her where she was.

  “What the fuck, Karen?” he said. Oh, there it was. “Yeah, I do mind. Are you kidding me?” He let out a rough laugh, but she knew he was trying to get his head around her little bomb. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  She allowed her gaze to drop to her brother’s hand, which was still on her arm, before he pulled it away and ran it roughly over his face, then made a rude noise. “Well, then that makes two of us. Look, Marcus, I can see you have a few things to say on the matter and are likely trying to find the words. Well, there aren’t any. It’s done, it’s over, and I never told anyone in the family because it’s one of those mortifying things where someone turns out to be the type of person you never thought he could be. I never wanted you to know—anyone to know. If Owen had just minded his own business instead of pushing… ” She gestured to the front door, up the steps to the sheriff’s office, and Marcus nodded.

  “Go, but I want to talk to you about this,” he said. His expression was grim.

  She wished he would drop it, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen, so she just nodded back. “Fine, but no inquisition.”

  This time, she thought the amused grin on his face might be humor. As she started up the concrete steps, breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn’t tagging along, he called out, “Karen?”

  She stopped with her hand on the door, about to pull it open. “What, Marcus?”

  His hands were on his hips as he reached to put his shades back on. “This guys sounds like a piece of work. I don’t know the whole story, and I plan to hear it, but I have to ask, why are you helping him?”

  There it was, the million-dollar question.

  She just stared at her brother, wishing some words of wisdom would come to her. “I wish I could tell you, Marcus,” was all she said.

  Before her brother could add one more thing, she pulled open the door to the Sweetwater County sheriff’s office, where Jack was currently parked in a cell. She hoped for a lot of things, namely an answer to why he’d cut her out of his life in such a cruel way, treating her as if she were nothing, and he’d never once sat her down and told her why.

  This time, as she heard the clang of the metal door, she made sure she was sitting at the table with a pen and pad of paper, writing Jack’s name and the date, in an attempt to appear as if she wasn’t such a mess.

  She lifted her head as a deputy she’d seen with Marcus a few times brought Jack in. His heavy five o’clock shadow was darker, and his white shirt was heavily wrinkled. She was aware he was definitely not in comfortable accommodations and was likely sharing a bench with a number of other arrestees waiting out the weekend in a concrete cell.

  “Thank you,” she forced herself to say to the deputy, who only nodded to her before leaving. Karen forced herself to gesture to the empty chair, something she did at times with a client. “So you slept well, I see,” she said, forcing sharpness into her tone, unable to think of what else to write on the paper. She clicked her pen and looked up at the man she wished she could feel nothing for.

  “I’ve been in worse places,” Jack said. “I guess I should say thanks for coming back.” He pulled out the chair, and the scrape over the concrete was welcome in the silence. Her heart was thumping, and she could feel her nerves getting the best of her. He let his gaze linger on her, and she didn’t have a clue what he was thinking.

  “So we should start with who you killed,” she said.

  “I didn’t kill anyone. I told you that already.” He crossed his arms over his solid chest. She was positive he seemed stronger than she remembered, but he’d always had an impressive body.

  “You should know that’s not the issue. You’ve found yourself arrested because there’s evidence to the contra
ry, so if you want my help, start by telling me everything. I have no police report yet, and I want to hear everything they think they have on you. Don’t leave anything out.” She jabbed her pen his way as if forcing her point. “I know you know the law and how things work. You’re a smart man, Jack, but at the same time, you’ve managed to land yourself in something here.”

  “You know it’s different when you’re on the other side of it,” he said. “Everything you know about the law, everything you tell people who are sitting in the same spot I’m in right now…well, all of it suddenly isn’t so black and white. Right to business, huh?”

  For a second, she didn’t know what to say. She could feel herself pull back. “You’re not seriously going to do the ‘Hey, how are you? It’s great to see you’ thing, are you? Because if you do, I’ll walk out of here, and you can find yourself another lawyer. Remember, we’re not friends after what you did to me, what you said.”

  There was something about the fury she had suddenly summoned. It felt so good. “On second thought,” she said, “you should find yourself another lawyer. I shouldn’t be here. I’m very well aware of how you treated me, and now you suddenly want my help?” She flicked her pen and grabbed the pad of paper to stuff it into the briefcase at her feet.

  “Whoa, hang on a second, here. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, Karen, and one of them is hurting you. I’m sorry. One day, I hope to make you understand that it wasn’t… There was more to it. It wasn’t that simple.”

  “Simple, what the fuck? You crushed me, told me we were done. You wouldn’t take my calls…”

  “I know what I did,” he snapped, cutting her off. “Look, can we table this for now? Aside from how I fucked everything up with you, the imminent problem, as you can see, is that I’m in jail, with a murder charge hanging over my head.”