In a soft voice with little inflection, Jill told Jerrod about the day. How nice Mitch had been with the extra time at the studio. The lunch at the restaurant. The events on the small side road off the highway, including the fact she’d heard what might’ve have been a shot. She touched briefly on the hurt to her shoulder when Mitch grabbed her purse and the punch, which sent her rolling down the ravine and may have saved her life.
Jerrod blanched when she told him how Mitch hurt her, but maybe his reaction didn’t mean much. Before he could say anything, his phone rang.
“Excuse me.” He turned away to answer. “My God...That can’t be...No, I’m at the Livingstons...She’s here...Yeah, I’ll wait.”
Jerrod turned to them. His lips clamped into a grim line. He looked at Jill.
“What is it, Jerrod?” Tim asked.
“Officers found my brother. Dead. One bullet through the back of the head.”
Jill’s knees buckled, and before she knew it, she was sitting on the floor. Her stomach pitched. She fought throwing up. Mitch had scared the hell out of her out in the woods, but she didn’t want him dead. My God. Had the shot she’d heard been the one that killed him?
Had someone else been in the woods? What was going on?
Karen helped her stand.
“Sheriff Hardwick is on his way out here. and he doesn’t want you to leave until he gets here,” Jerrod said.
“Leave! Where the hell would I go?” She paced a tight circle. Her fingers clenched into fists. Her heart raced.
“I don’t have an ID, credit cards, cash. Your brother took my purse and tore it up.” Her anger exploded at him. “So, you tell me, Jerrod Phillips. Where am I to go?”
Chapter Fourteen
MONDAY, OCTOBER 15
Jill morphed into a true damsel in distress, wringing her hands and pacing like a caged tiger in the Livingstons’ kitchen. She wanted the sheriff to return her purse or what remained of it anyway. If not her purse, at least her phone. She needed to call Gary and Michelle.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, but something didn’t sit well in the way Jerrod worded Hardwick’s request that she stay. Neither did the way Jerrod looked at her when he first heard the news about his brother’s death.
Just as she’d feared. Blood was indeed thicker than water.
Jerrod didn’t speak to either the Livingstons or her. Tim and Karen stayed close by her side. She’d hate if this situation drove a wedge between the two friends, but she wasn’t responsible. Mitch was.
When Sheriff Hardwick arrived, he was nothing but business. Had she left this morning with Mitch? Did they go to glass artist and to the restaurant by the waterfall? Questions he knew the answers to, so he must’ve been testing her.
Jill explained the best she could. They’d driven out north after lunch, because Mitch told her he knew a short cut.
Karen grew more and more agitated during the sheriff’s questioning. Tim gave in the third time she pulled on his arm and muttered in his ear. “Okay. Hold on, Karen. Excuse me for interrupting, Jack,” Tim said. “I’m not sure we care for the tone of your questions. Does Jill need a lawyer present?”
“Not unless Ms. Barlow has something to hide.”
“I resent your implication, Sheriff. I’m sorry to hear Mitch is dead, but he abducted me. Drove to a remote area. Wrenched my purse off my arm and pulled some muscles
in the process. And he slugged me. Aren’t I the victim?” She touched the still tender skin. “The only good thing about him hitting me is when I fell down the ravine I dropped out of his sight and had an opportunity to run. Engrossed in searching my purse, he didn’t notice.” She threaded a shaky hand through her hair, pushing loose ends behind her ears. God, she wanted the interrogation over.
“Everything I need for my life is either in the purse or on the cell. Did you at least find the phone?”
“I’ll ask the questions, Ms. Barlow.”
Where’d the nice friendly law enforcement officer she’d dealt with on earlier occasions go? “Well, Sheriff, if you’re going to act that way, I do want an attorney.” She put her hands on her hips and planted her feet. He couldn’t push her around.
“Damn,” Jerrod muttered. “Jack, take it easy for a minute here. Jill doesn’t like guns. We talked about gun laws when she first arrived. Karen, Tim, you remember? You were both at Mother’s when I crashed the dinner.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jerrod. You better come with me, Ms. Barlow.”
Jill shuddered and bit her lips to keep from crying. She wouldn’t let on she was afraid. She had nothing to feel guilty about. She hadn’t killed Mitch Phillips, and surely, any evidence they found would prove as much.
“Do you want me to call someone?” Karen walked over and put an arm around Jill.
“Yes. Michelle Smith. Tell her I need the best criminal lawyer she can locate in case the sheriff here decides to charge me with something. Try getting the number off Michelle’s firm web site first. Contacting Ellen is a last resort. She’s a walking phone book, but I’d rather not worry the kids about this unless it becomes necessary.”
“Jack, she should see a doctor.” Tim raised his hand to emphasize his point. “I only gave her minimal treatment. I know you’ll see she gets what she needs.”
“I’ll take care of it, Tim.” Hardwick turned to her. “You want to put your coat on before we head out?”
Jill slipped her free arm into the sleeve, but still a groan escaped. “I didn’t make up the story, Sheriff.” She noticed his gaze narrowing. “I took several spills out in the woods, not counting what Mitch did to me.”
“Do you have to take her in?” Jerrod followed them out on the porch, his cell in his hand.
“She’s the last person to see your brother alive.”
“Only if she killed him, and I don’t believe she did.”
Relief coursed through Jill at the steel in Jerrod’s tone and his words. She stood
straighter, her heart a little lighter. This would work out somehow. Her natural optimism, having been tested, reasserted itself.
JERROD DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING to Jill. She’d probably not want to talk with him anyway. He clenched his hands, determined not to care about her.
“You following along?” The sheriff looked at Jerrod.
“Yeah, I’ll meet you back at the jail.”
First, he had things he needed to attend to. He called Don and filled him in on the turn of events. Jerrod’s voice broke when he described Jack driving off with Jill in the back of his car. How’d that not-caring thing work for him? Jerrod needed to pull out of the funk he’d fallen into, or he’d be of no help to his mother or Jill.
“I’m sorry to hear about Uncle Mitch, but frankly, we’ve known the chances were he’d come to a bad end if he never dealt with his gambling. Jack doesn’t seriously consider Jill Barlow killed him, does he?”
“I don’t know, but he’s taken her to jail. He says he wants to talk with her. She made a request for an attorney.”
“Good for her. Are you helping her locate one?”
“No, she wanted Karen to reach her attorney in Fort Worth and get a recommendation from her.”
“Why didn’t she ask you? You know everyone in the state who’d be best for this kind of thing.”
Jerrod was too embarrassed to tell his son the details. “Let’s just say, I’m not her favorite person right now.” Jerrod envisioned a huge hole opening in his life if she never talked to him again. Maybe if he hadn’t tasted the way things could be with Jill in his life...but he had. While he didn’t regret their night together for a moment, the experience would make it harder to bear her loss.
“TOOK CARE OF PHILLIPS like you wanted, Mr. C.”
“Good, Judson. Good. Did you get the woman? What about the flash drive?” Sid blew smoke rings. He propped his feet comfortably on his desk, and contemplated how nice it would be to have this wrapped up,
“No such luck. She took off through the woods.”
Sid’s feet hit the floor. Goddamn. Surrounded by incompetents.
“I followed for a while but lost her trail. Hell, Mr. C, the weather stinks up here. If you want me to stay, I gotta get some warmer duds.”
“Did you leave any evidence?”
“Nah. Single shot to the back of his head. He didn’t see it coming. I watched him go through the woman’s purse, but he didn’t find anything. I heard the sheriff took Barlow in to the jail.”
“Looks like she’ll need a lawyer. Stay in the state but get out of Woodstock. Strangers are easier to spot in small towns. I’m sending Peterson to try something. If it doesn’t work, you two will have to grab Barlow. Make her tell you what she knows about the flash drive. Get the information any way you choose. She’s got to tell us where the damn thing is.
JERROD HELD HIS MOTHER while she cried. He hadn’t wanted anyone else to tell her about Mitch. News of his death would spread quickly through their community.
“I feel such a failure. Somehow, I should’ve been able to help Mitch. It must be my fault. Did I not show him enough love or give him enough attention? Oh, God. Your child...your child is not supposed to die before you,” she said through sobs.
He rocked her in his arms, at a loss for what to say to make her feel better. His mother wasn’t to blame for his brother’s bad decisions any more than Jill was. Mitch made his choices and failed to accept he had a sickness.
Jerrod suspected when everything became known, they’d find Mitch had been killed by someone to whom he owed money. He didn’t tell his mother Jack had taken Jill in for questioning. He didn’t see how that would make her feel any better.
Don was on his way down from the capital. Liz cancelled classes for the next week to be available to help, and she planned to stay at her grandmother’s house with her. He was glad, because things were going to be grim for a while, and he needed to focus his attention on figuring out what happened between his brother and Jill and why.
“Hey, Dad.”
He hugged Liz. “Thanks for coming so fast.”
“How’s grandma holding up?”
“About what you’d expect. If she asks for me, I’m going to the jail. I’ve got to talk with Jill.” He kissed Liz on the check.
Jerrod reached jail faster than was legal. He pulled open the main door and stormed past Carla to the sheriff’s office. “Jack, bring her out so I can talk with her.”
“No. For all I know, you want to hurt her because you think she killed your brother. My duty is to protect her.”
“You know that’s shit.”
“What I know is, that according to you, some scary guys probably want to harm her. This is the best place for her, and she’s agreed. You’re not her lawyer.” Jack Hardwick walked to the door and held it open. “Go home, Jerrod. Look after your mother.”
“Will you tell her I tried to see her?”
Jack nodded.
“I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Unless her lawyer’s here, I’m still not going to let you talk with her.”
JILL’S WATCH TOLD HER it was the middle of the night. Because of the bars on the window, the moonlight filtered through like something from an old gothic novel. A chill rushed over her. Despite the unlocked door, despite her agreeing with Jack to stay in the cell... My God. She was in a jail cell.
She stood, wrapped the blanket around her shoulders more snugly and began making the rounds of the cell, which she’d done earlier when the sheriff first put her in. Of course, it wasn’t round. It was a square. Was she then making the “squares” of the cell?
God, she was close to losing her mind, but she needed to keep occupied. Moving would keep her from becoming stiff, but her shoulder ached, and her cheek hurt. The pain medicine the doctor left for her hadn’t kicked in yet. True to his word, the sheriff made sure a doctor attended to her various cuts and abrasions, but they continued to sting. Bottom line, she’d hurt for some time. Great.
If she couldn’t sleep, she’d play mind games to help the time pass.
Games and songs kept eluding her. The only image Jill’s mind provided for contemplation was the way Jerrod looked at her when he first heard about his brother’s shooting. For a moment, at least, he’d believed her capable of killing Mitch. Of course, that opinion fit with his first impression about her—she’d murdered George and her father.
How could she let herself care for the man after such an awful beginning? Jill faced the truth. She cared for him. During their night together, he snagged her heart with fingers capable of holding with a firm and gentle touch. Now he’d let go. The ache in her middle was physical, a hole she didn’t know how to fill. She made her way back to the cot, doubled over with pain, and curled up determined not to cry any more.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16
The first of the morning light flowed through the window, making her blink her eyes, gritty from a lack of sleep. The night seemed exceedingly long. Lying on the cot, one arm thrown over her head, Jill remembered other long nights.
One when a raging temperature threatened to cook Ellen to a crisp. They’d rushed her to the hospital, blasting through stoplights. Adrenalin shot through Jill’s system. Her arms jerked. Her fingers tightened on the remembered steering wheel.
The time Ethan fell from a tree in the park after George and she had expressly told him to stay out of it. He broke his arm in two places and required surgery.
The last night she sat with her mother before she died. Jill swallowed the tight knot in her throat. Crying wouldn’t make it better.
The first night after George’s funeral. Emotions suffocated her, and the room spun.
The night she learned of her father’s murder. Despite pushing her hands against her eyes, tears welled. She hiccoughed against them.
All of them, exceptionally long nights. Jill dragged in one deep breath after another. Filled her lungs until they hurt. Exhaled the hurt.
Long nights she had survived.
She must’ve dozed. When she next woke, bright sunlight poured into the cell. She sat, ran hands through her hair and stretched. Every muscle ached.
Did Karen contact Michelle? How long before her lawyer arrived? Had Karen reached her attorney without talking to Ellen? Either way Jill accepted the time had come to let the kids know what was going on for their own safety. She didn’t worry about Ethan. He was on an Army post and could use a gun. But Ellen was in the Keys, with lots of tourists. Easy for bad guys to mingle. Yes, she needed to talk with her children.
What should she tell the lawyer? She told Karen and Tim everything. Well, maybe not everything. No one knew the location of the flash drive. The safety deposit box must remain her secret.
“Good morning, Ms. Barlow. I’ll take you to the facilities, and then I’ll bring your breakfast.”
Deputy Clara Hicks had been kind last night, getting Jill an extra blanket. Jail cells were cold, and after her trek through the forest, Jill doubted she’d ever be warm again.
“Thanks. Do you know if Sheriff Hardwick heard from my lawyer?” She followed the deputy down the hall.
“I don’t. When he does, I’m sure he’ll let you know.”
“Okay.”
“Are you still hurting? Do you need more extra strength ibuprofen?”
“Yes, please.” Jill planned to keep the painkiller in her system, so she’d be able to function without the pain overwhelming her. “Oh, and do you have a rubber band?”
“Sure. Be right back.”
Hardwick had offered to let her stop at her house for anything she needed, but she reminded him her stuff was at Jerrod’s, and they both nixed the idea. The deputy supplied a toothbrush and the requested band, which went a long way to making Jill feel almost human.
“Thanks, Clara.” Jill ran her fingers like a comb through her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. No telling where she’d lost the velvet ribbon she wore when she set out yesterday morning. After breakfast, she went back to walking around in her cell. She tried different pattern
s, not content to “square” it the way she’d done last night.
“Ms. Barlow.” Jack Hardwick came through the hall door toward her cell.
“Is my lawyer here?” Jill glanced at her watch, ten-thirty. Maybe it was still too early.
“A Mr. Charles Callahan called. You can expect him right around noon.”
“Thank God.”
“And Ms. Barlow, Jerrod Phillips came by last night and wanted to see you.”
“Oh?”
“I wouldn’t let him.”
“Why?”
“Told him my job was to keep you safe, and I was afraid he’d want to hurt you for what he thought you’d done to his brother.”
Jill stepped back. “He wouldn’t do that, and besides I didn’t—”
“No, I don’t think you did either. But if what Jerrod told me about the lobbyist in Austin is true, and you’re holding damaging information on him—well, this seemed the safest place for you for a while.”
Jill’s hands flew in front of her mouth, shocked to hear his words. A pain burned from her stomach up through her throat. Jerrod told Jack about Richardson. He’d promised not to tell. Well, he promised not to tell Don. Her palms rubbed her thighs. She hadn’t explained clearly enough she meant for him not to talk with anyone.
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
“I’ll be back.” He left.
God, what a mess. Her fingers curled around the bars of the cell. She would have to leave Woodstock. She needed one of those non-traceable phones. Then she’d call her kids, tell them she loved them, was going away, and not to search for her. Disappearing would be the only way to keep them safe. Leaving was the hardest thing she’d ever contemplated in her life. Pain greater than all her body aches struck her heart. She sank to the floor.
She swallowed to keep from throwing up. A hole the size of Carlsbad Caverns, opened in her heart. Leaving her kids might well kill her. If it would keep them safe, it would be worth her agony.
Thank God, Gary set up the offshore account. She’d have access to funds.
Vermont Escape Page 18