by Shelly Bell
“She became irrational every time I shied away from anything physical. It was easier to give in. Besides, I was a horny young guy with a willing woman in my bed. I always used condoms, but she later admitted she’d poked pinholes in them.”
It didn’t surprise Dreama that Cash would marry Maddie even though she’d intentionally gotten pregnant. Most men would’ve panicked and gone running. But Cash was different. His greatest strength was also his biggest weakness—his need to protect those he cared about.
She placed her lips on his neck and kissed him. “You’re a good man, Cash Turner.”
“You wanted to know a secret.” His voice shook. “I’ll give you one. You’re wrong about me. I’m not a good man. A good man wouldn’t be relieved when he heard his wife was dead, but I was. That was the first thing I felt when I woke up in the hospital and my sister told me what had happened. Maddie and Joshua were gone and I was relieved, Dreama. The feeling didn’t last longer than a second, but it was there.”
She put her hand on his stubbly cheek. “That doesn’t make you bad. It makes you human.”
“I haven’t visited their grave,” he admitted, guilt evident in his tone. “I never even cried.”
“Crying doesn’t equal grief. Give yourself time to heal.” She snuggled into him. After everything he’d gone through, how could he expect so much of himself? He’d married Maddie even knowing she’d manipulated her way into it. Because despite what he believed, he was the very best of men. He’d married Maddie to protect his unborn child. “You’ll go when you’re ready.”
With everything he lost, would he be pleased to gain two brothers?
He didn’t say anything. He responded by rubbing her back. Being in his arms was like being wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. She never wanted it to end.
She closed her eyes.
And when she opened them again, he was gone.
TWENTY-FIVE
The sun was just rising as Cash pulled into his driveway. After talking with Dreama, he’d fallen asleep with her in his arms. He’d woken up a couple hours ago and quickly taken Butch out to do his business, then brought up the dog crate and supplies to Dreama’s apartment. He’d thought about waking her, but she’d looked so peaceful with her hair spread out over the pillow, he’d decided against it.
He quietly walked into his house and turned to go to his room. Rebecca was on the couch, a mug of coffee in her hand. He winced, guilt eating at his stomach like battery acid. “I’m sorry I stayed out last night. I meant to come home earlier, but I fell asleep. I’m not going to spend the night out anymore. Not as long as that psycho—”
“Look,” she said, jumping from the couch and simultaneously causing her coffee to slosh over the rim of her mug, “I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough. I’m worried about you. Where have you been sleeping every night?”
He walked to her, took the cup from her hand, and placed it on the table. “Trust me, Rebecca. It’s best if you don’t know.”
“I lied to the police for you,” she said. “The least you can do is tell me where you really were.” There was a tremble in her voice that burned him to the quick.
He grabbed her hand. “You don’t think I had something to do with the murders, do you?”
“No. Of course not.” She did a combo eye roll/snort that indicated she thought he was an idiot. “Give me some credit. But I am concerned. I don’t understand why you’re being so secretive about everything. Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll face it together.”
Whatever it is…
She had no idea what kind of secret she was inviting into their home.
But what was the alternative? He couldn’t outright lie to her.
“It’s Dreama, okay?” he admitted, throwing his arms up in the air. “I’m involved with Dreama.”
God, that felt good to say out loud.
A small smile played at the sides of Rebecca’s mouth.
Huh.
“You don’t look surprised,” he said.
Her smile grew as she shrugged. “She was more interested in looking at your baby photos than searching the house for contraband. I had a feeling then there was something between you two.”
“She said you were smart.”
“I really liked her.”
“I do too.” If he was honest with himself, he more than liked her. But he wasn’t ready to go there yet.
She started to speak when a knock on the door interrupted them. The frost on the window prevented him from seeing outside. Who would be here at seven in the morning?
With her mouth downturned, she went to the front door and checked through the peephole. “It’s the police.”
Icy-cold dread ran through his veins.
Something told him they weren’t there to ask for a donation to the Fraternal Order of Police.
On his nod, Rebecca opened the door to Detective Henry and a young female officer dressed in uniform. Cash moved to stand behind his sister.
“Good morning,” Detective Henry said. “We’re here to search the vehicle registered to Cash Turner.”
“Do you have a search warrant?” she asked.
“Mr. Turner is on parole,” said the female officer. “We don’t need one.”
Cash recalled some language in his parole paperwork to that effect, but never did he think it would ever be used against him.
Detective Henry stretched out his hand. “Can we have your keys, Mr. Turner?”
He fished them out of his pocket and gave them over. “Here you go. It’s already unlocked.”
Since the vehicle wasn’t worth much, he never bothered to lock it. He had a feeling that was about to bite him in the ass.
They weren’t there at seven in the morning on a hunch. Someone must have tipped them off and it was probably the same person who’d given their witness account after Laci’s death. The baseball bat had been a distraction. While he and Dreama had been worried about that, someone must have planted evidence in his car.
When the cops left to search, Rebecca turned to Cash. “Should we call a lawyer? I’m sure Thomas can find us a good one.”
“No. Don’t call Thomas. I’ll figure something out on my own.”
Rebecca’s shoulders were practically up by her ears. “That’s what you said eight years ago and look how that ended up.”
With him behind bars.
He knew he was about to return.
“Just let the cops do their thing,” he said, putting his arm around his sister and kissing her on top of her head. “It will be over soon.”
But that was a lie.
Detective Henry returned to the house a minute later and cuffed Cash as he recited his rights. They’d found a bloody baseball bat in the trunk of his car, exactly where the informant had said they would.
Cash was under arrest for murder.
Dreama never worked on Saturdays, but when Meg had called her an hour ago and asked her to come in, she didn’t have the desire to say no. She had no other plans for the day and it wouldn’t hurt to put in some extra hours to impress Meg. Hopefully, staying busy would take her mind off things for a little while.
She hadn’t heard Cash leave last night, but she had the feeling he’d just left when she’d opened her eyes. Butch was on her bed and his fur was cold, as if he’d recently been outside. Petting her dog, she’d lain there for a couple hours, a ball of nerves bouncing around in her belly. She’d fallen asleep before she could tell him about Ryder and Finn, and the guilt of it wouldn’t go away.
She didn’t want to be like Maddie, who lied and manipulated to hold on to him. But the longer she kept the secret, the harder it would be to explain she’d kept it for all the right reasons. And it wasn’t only Cash she was keeping this from. Ryder and Finn deserved to know the truth too.
Dreama walked down the hallway to Meg’s office and, noticing her door was open, crossed inside without knocking. “Good morning. What can I help you with?”
From behind the safety of her desk and computer
monitor, Meg clasped her hands on her desk. She smiled much too widely for Dreama’s comfort. “Last night I received an envelope at my home. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was a photograph of you and Mr. Turner in front of a sex club.”
There was a low-level buzzing noise in her ears. She shook her head to clear it. “A photo?”
Meg picked up the 8 x 10 black-and-white photo off her desk and held it out to Dreama. “See for yourself.”
Dreama didn’t have to see it up close. From feet away, she could determine it was the same photo sent to her earlier in the week. “No, thank you.”
“Was this photo taken before or after you called that Browner attorney to inquire about Mr. Turner’s case?” Meg asked snidely.
“After. But honestly, we didn’t go to the club together. It was just a weird coincidence that we bumped into each other there. The person who took the photo tried to run me down with his car right after he took the picture.”
Meg frowned. “Did you report the incident to the police?”
“No.”
“When I came into your office the other day, Mr. Turner was standing awfully close to your desk. I got the feeling that I interrupted something. You didn’t listen to me when I told you to drop your inquiry into Mr. Turner’s case, did you? I knew it.”
“If you had suspicions about me, why were you going to recommend me for the supervisor position?”
“You’re even stupider than I thought you were,” Meg sneered. “There is no supervisor position opening. I just said it to get your hopes up so I could rip them away from you. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d fall for it. Imagine my surprise when you jumped at the chance to do my work for me. But having this photograph of you is even better than what I’d planned for you.”
Dreama’s heart sank, but at the same time, she was angry. How could the parole office give this woman so much power when she clearly didn’t deserve it? Someday, Dreama would make sure they learned the truth. “I’m not stupid.”
Looking triumphant, Meg strolled right up to her. “I received a call this morning from a Detective Henry. It seems your parolee, Cash Turner, has been arrested for murder and is the suspect in another. You really can pick them, Dreama.”
How could they have arrested him when they had no evidence? Something must have happened after he’d left her bed this morning. But why hadn’t he called her?
“Listen, Meg, I know you hate me, but this isn’t about me.” There had to be some good inside of Meg buried deep inside. Otherwise, why would she have chosen this career? “Cash Turner is innocent. He was innocent eight years ago and he’s innocent today.”
Meg tilted her head and grinned knowingly. “And you know this how?”
Dreama took a breath. “Because I was with him when those women were murdered.”
Meg’s brow lifted. “Your job means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
Dreama didn’t know where Meg was going with this, but she had a feeling wherever it was, she wasn’t going to like it. “Yes. Of course it does.”
“I’m sure you’d do anything to keep it, right? You would hate to let me win.” Meg took off her glasses, allowing Dreama to see the emptiness in her eyes. “What if we made a deal? I’ll email a letter to my boss right now recommending you for a higher position”—she smiled, looking every bit in her element as she offered her devil’s bargain—“if you agree to never to see Cash Turner again.”
Dreama didn’t have to think about it. “Do you honestly think I would ever make a deal with the devil? Here’s your answer, Lucifer. I quit.”
Meg had the audacity to look offended. “I’m going to report your illicit relationship to the county. Your career is over, do you hear me? After I get through with you, I wouldn’t be surprised if someday you’re back here as one of the parolees. I knew from the minute I met you that you were a loser.”
Who cared if Meg thought she won some pointless competition? What did that get her? An all-expenses-paid vacation to the French Riviera?
Meg could have the job. It hurt Dreama that she wouldn’t be able to help her parolees, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be bullied anymore.
Dreama wasn’t concerned about Meg’s threats. Falling in love with her parolee might be considered unethical by the county and the state, but it was the best thing she’d ever done. And she was in love with him. She couldn’t deny it and she’d never regret it.
“You’re wrong. The sad part is you’d never understand why.” Dreama spun on her heels and stormed out of the parole office. She’d come back to get her things from her office on Monday, during regular business hours.
She had been so worried about proving she wasn’t stupid that she had acted stupidly. She should have never kept the death threats a secret. Cash had been right. She should have gone to the police. If she had, Cash might have never been arrested.
But she was going to make it right.
She had to come clean about everything.
Starting now.
After getting Finn’s address from Jane, she drove straight to his new home. She would’ve called, but this kind of news deserved to be said in person. She parked her car and hurried to his front door, where she rang the doorbell.
Finn answered the door and yawned. His hair was a mess and he had signs of sleep still in his eyes. “Dreama? What are you doing here?”
“I need your help,” she said quickly. There was no time for pleasantries. “The parolee I’ve been talking to you about has been arrested for murder.”
He scratched his cheek, drawing attention to the fact that he hadn’t shaved yet. “I’m not a criminal attorney anymore. If the police have him on a murder charge, he needs someone better than me to represent him.”
He was wrong. There was nobody better suited than him.
“You don’t understand—”
“The police must have solid evidence if they arrested him for murder,” Finn said. “Maybe it would be best if you let it go. After what happened to you last year—”
“I know Cash Turner inside and out,” she said. “He’s not capable of murder. Besides, I was with him at the time of the murders. I’m his alibi.”
Shock registered on his face. “Even so.” He palmed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this for you.” He started closing the door.
She shot out her hand and stopped it. “Please, you have to.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why is it so important that I be the one to help?”
She told him the truth. “Because Cash is your brother.”
TWENTY-SIX
Sitting on a hard bench in the temporary holding cell at the police station, Cash waited for his transfer over to the courthouse. It was hard to believe, but there was no disputing it.
Someone had set up Cash for murder.
Between the witness placing a man matching Cash’s description at the scene and the blood on the baseball bat determined by preliminary tests to be Laci’s, the police had enough evidence for their arrest. Cash’s alibi had fallen apart because there was no Star Wars marathon on television the night of Laci’s murder. Thankfully, they seemed to have no interest in charging Rebecca for lying to the police.
Detective Henry had interrogated Cash for two hours, but Cash had refused to answer any questions. He also hadn’t asked for a lawyer. The public defender route hadn’t gone so well for him in the past. This time, he’d find his own defense attorney. Problem was he had to find one he could trust, someone who wouldn’t be susceptible to bribery. That wasn’t going to be easy.
All of this would likely go away if he provided a solid alibi. Several times during the interrogation, he’d been tempted. But he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t. Not until he spoke to Dreama. He was still waiting for the cops to let him make a phone call before they transported him to the county courthouse for his arraignment.
Eight years ago, he’d thought he was doing what was right. He’d believed he deserved to go to prison. Thanks to Dreama, he k
new the truth. He hadn’t deserved to go to prison. Not then and, more importantly, not now.
But that didn’t change what he had to do.
A uniformed officer appeared on the other side of the cell. “You have a visitor. I’m going to take you to the interrogation room.”
Guess he wouldn’t be needing to make that phone call after all. He didn’t bother asking the cop for the identity of his visitor. He knew in his heart it was Dreama. As his parole officer, she would’ve been notified of his arrest.
Cash stood up from the bench and stretched, his lower spine already sore from the hours of sitting. This particular backache was familiar, one he’d suffered throughout his stay with the state. Sleeping on cots and sitting on cheap chairs weren’t exactly conducive to a healthy back. Funny how until now, he hadn’t experienced as much as a twinge since getting out of prison.
Knowing the drill, he held his arms straight out. Hard, cold steel tightened around both wrists with an unsatisfying click. Hard to believe that only hours before, he’d been willingly handcuffed to Dreama’s bed.
He’d been naïve to think the two of them had a shot at being together. If only he’d worked harder at resisting her, she wouldn’t be in danger. But resisting Dreama was like resisting the urge to breathe—totally and completely impossible.
Right from the start, she’d wormed her way under his skin and made herself at home there. He’d thought he could control the situation, control her, but with every glance and every conversation, he’d fallen just a little bit more until his need for her became a full-blown obsession.
Since his father had died, he’d taken it upon himself to protect the women in his life, first with his mother and Rebecca and later with Maddie. But Dreama? Dreama had made it her mission to protect him.
That had been his downfall. He should’ve switched parole officers as soon as the threats to her life began, but in his eagerness for absolution of his past, he’d succumbed to Dreama’s wishes.
She’d given him hope.