The department made a mistake. Sheriff Vernon, Claire, my own colleagues—they’ve got to be wrong. We’re good at what we do, but it happens. God knows it happens. They don’t like to admit it and some people will suspend you if you argue about it. But it still happens.
And that’s what this is. A mistake.
Noah couldn’t have killed anyone. He couldn’t have…
Finally the TV bursts into a mixture of digital palm trees, traffic lights, and dark building silhouettes. The name LOCAL 7 NEWS spirals in from the top of the screen. Then comes the murmuring of a deep voice and I dart to the couch, hastily scrambling for the remote. My thumb taps rapidly at the volume.
“You’re watching Local 7, home of Local7Online and breaking news from around the state. WVFL Local 7 News at 4:00 starts now.”
Another round of colors and logos buzzing around the screen, then a female voice that I immediately recognize as Vickie Connors, the local anchor. She’s already talking when the camera begins zooming in on her behind the studio desk.
“It’s a day for scholastic pride in Florida! A jump in test scores from around the state give both students and parents a reason to cheer. But first, a shocking murder in Marvel County.
“The deceased body of twenty-four-year-old Elizabeth Barton was recovered early this morning from behind the Palm Leaf Motel.”
A picture of a young female fills the screen. She has a thin face with high cheekbones and straight dark hair streaked with purple. She’s grinning, candidly posing with her arm around a body that’s been cut from the picture.
I shut my eyes.
“Police cite her cause of death as a single gunshot to the head. Authorities have ruled out suicide after additional evidence suggests a sexually motivated component to the murder.
“Marvel County Police Officers suspect the crime was committed by a thirty-two-year-old male who is now in custody. His identity is being withheld until formal charges are brought. However, the Marvel County sheriff has indicated that the case will likely move no further than the suspect that’s been apprehended.”
I reach for the remote to turn off the TV, but before I have the chance Sheriff Vernon’s face is centered on the screen behind a podium and an army of microphones.
“There’s no place in the country, and especially in our state, for this kind of violence. Our officers haven’t stopped working since the body was discovered, and while charges are still being assembled, at this time we believe the investigation has reached a point where no additional arrests are anticipated. Most importantly, I want to extend condolences to the family of Elizabeth Barton. We—”
Now I do have to click it off.
I hurl the remote against the living room wall. The battery cap flies off and the whole thing clatters across the floor.
Then come the tears.
But I can’t. I don’t have time to cry right now.
I shoot up from the couch and grab a fistful of Kleenex from the kitchen to blot my eyes dry. Right now, crying equals inaction and inaction equals defeat. And I will not accept defeat.
I need to call Claire. If anyone can help me—and by help me I mean get me the information I need to prove Noah’s innocence—it’s Claire Brooks.
The first call goes to voicemail. The second only rings once.
“Soph?” she asks cautiously. The nickname brings moisture to my eyes.
“Claire!” I blurt. “Are you—”
“Oh God, tell me you’re okay,” she says in a low and barely audible whisper.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “But I—”
“What the hell is going on?”
I muster as much composure as I can. “That’s what I was hoping you could tell me.”
“God Soph, I really shouldn’t be talking to you. Sheriff would end my career—he prohibited the whole department.”
“I’m sure he did.” My legs weaken and I collapse onto the couch. “But I need you to talk to me, Claire. Please.”
“You promise me you’re okay?” Her voice is still so low that I have to strain to hear her.
“Yes, but I—”
“Is it true that you and him were… dating?”
I shut my eyes and swallow the lump of emotion rising in my throat. “Listen Claire, I need you to find a quiet place to talk. Give me thirty-seconds.”
There’s a long pause muddled with occasional mumbling away from the phone. I stand up and return to pacing.
“Okay—” Her voice is still a whisper when it returns. “—will you tell me what the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening but—”
“Do you know him?” she cuts in again.
I draw in a long breath. “Yes. I know him.” I can hear her stir on the other end. “But he didn’t do this, Claire. Believe me. This is all a mistake.”
“Were you involved with him?”
“Look, none of that matters right now. I need you to tell me why he’s in there. What happened?”
“It’s a homicide,” she says with dreadful decisiveness.
“I know.” I close my eyes, fighting away the girl’s smiling face as it fills the darkness. “But what points to Noah?”
Now it’s her turn to draw in a long breath. “You’re a potential witness, Soph. I could lose my job for this.”
“A witness?” My eyes snap open. “There was nothing for me to witness!”
“Just let me call you back when—”
“Please Claire! I need you to talk to me.”
Her second of hesitation feels like an eternity.
“Okay listen,” she says, her voice even softer. “What I know is that Sheriff Vernon found a body dumped behind Palm Leaf Motel. We recovered a revolver from the scene with fingerprints that matched Noah Mason. Haven’t got back a ballistics report on the bullet yet.”
She pauses and I’m praying that she’ll continue, but I don’t dare to speak.
“I can’t speak on the autopsy specifically, but it looked like a sexual crime,” she says. “The semen we collected matched a DNA sample in CODIS.”
My heart drops.
“You found semen?”
She murmurs a confirmation. “A lot of it.”
“And they already got a match? That’s—”
“Lab ran it right away, Sheriff’s orders,” she says. “He knew the Vic. She was arrested here for prostitution a couple times, had some drug and alcohol problems, but apparently she’d just gotten clean and he was helping her through treatment.”
A new and painful emptiness suffocates me. Silence fills the phone and every inch of the room. I feel empty of everything, even the will to speak.
“Hello? Soph?” Claire murmurs. “You there?”
I can’t answer.
I can’t move.
My entire body is trapped envisioning inconceivable horrors.
“Soph? Where’d you—shit, I gotta go. Promise me you’ll stay safe, okay?”
Click.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Noah
Everything in the house is still.
Gradually, I rise from my stool and meander toward the fridge. I’ve eaten all of a bagel and a banana since leaving the Marvel County PD. But that was yesterday. It’s one in the afternoon and I still haven’t touched anything of substance today. I don’t have the slightest desire.
I gape into the fridge for a few long and unsuccessful minutes before closing the door. Without really thinking, I drift to the liquor cabinet, staring blankly before throwing it shut. I can’t even imagine drinking right now.
This is probably one of my last few days as a truly free man, and I feel more imprisoned than ever.
This isn’t freedom. This doesn’t even feel like the same house.
Nothing around me looks the same without Sophia standing next to it. She’s all I can picture. Her beautiful face. Her radiant blue eyes. Her face and eyes full of tears at the thought of her man as a murderer.
I beat my fist on
the granite, dropping my head into my arms as I sink onto a stool again.
I’ll never be the man Cliff wants to make me. She needs to know that.
Fuck I need her to know that! The idea of her contemplating my guilt makes my chest tense with anger.
I need her here. With me. I need her wrapped in my arms. I need to know she’s safe and I need her to know that she was never once in danger with me.
But that’s not the truth.
She was in danger every second she was with me. Not physical danger, but her whole world was hanging by a thread just waiting to snap. And yet, somehow, I convinced myself to ignore that.
After everything Owen’s sacrificed, I owe him an explanation too. At the very least, I owe him the reassurance that this has nothing to do with the Feds. Whatever happens to me, he’ll be fine. I should tell him that.
But what, do I say—hey listen, I’ve been framed for murder because I told Cliff we weren’t hitting anymore jobs and then continued my relationship with a Marvel County Police Officer in spite of him.
No.
He has no idea that Sophia even exists. And he’s safer that way.
Besides, it’s not like I can pick up the phone and call him. Cliff is watching me, I have no fucking doubt about that. And I’m not willing to put a target on Owen’s back too.
From this point on, there are several people whose safety depends on my every move. People I care more about than myself. And I can’t continue pretending that I can protect everyone.
I can still protect Sophia—I will protect her, but that means I’ll have to keep Owen out of this. For his own sake.
And Grayson.
That beautiful kid. Luckily, he and Savannah are a step removed from this. But only if I do everything right. A prison sentence for me is a death sentence for Grayson. He’ll never get the help he needs without me. And I’ll go to the grave before I let him down.
I need a plan. I need to fix this.
And more than anything right now, I want Sophia beside me.
No, I fucking need it.
I need to feel her touch, but most of all, I need her to hear the truth. She deserves the promise that she never once laid her lips on a killer. But most of all, she deserves the truth about me.
I am not what she thinks I am.
I want to be—hell, I was willing to change everything. Willing to be the perfect man. Her man. A man who puts his woman and godson first and foremost. The man she deserves.
She has an incredible personality, an impressive career, a beautiful mind, ambition, a sense of humor. Women like that don’t end up with guys like me.
I should’ve never roped her into this. Never. It was as fucking selfish as selfish gets. Yes, I’m hurting and I’m furious, but I can only imagine how she’s feeling.
My chest deflates as I sigh into my hands.
It’s so quiet that I can hear the sudden treading of tires on the driveway. I amble to the window just as a Marvel County PD cruiser slows to a stop.
Cliff is back.
It’s his SUV, but the first person to emerge is a gangly-looking officer who slips out the passenger side door. Cliff steps out a second later.
Angry heat prickles down my arms and forehead.
He will not ruin Sophia’s life. Not anymore. I already blew a chance at protecting her and I sure as hell won’t risk it again.
This ends now.
All the despair and confusion, the possibility that she was falling in love with a monster, it’s unforgiveable. And it’s my fault. She never would’ve encountered any of it if not for me. As much as I want to tell her to truth, risking her safety just for that would be selfish.
She doesn’t need the truth—she needs me out of her life.
There’s really no plan to be made.
Tomorrow I’ll transfer my savings to Savannah. I’ll have her sell my photos. With a guilty plea, I’ll probably secure the possibility for parole in a few years and I come back for Grayson. I won’t say a word to Sophia. I’ll stay silent as long as it keeps her safe. I can hold onto our memories and Sophia can move on without me.
There’s the sound of boots clunking up the steps of the porch. I don’t wait to open the door.
Right away, the gangly officer shouts my name.
“That’s him,” Cliff mutters.
“Stop where you are, put your hands in the air,” the officer orders.
I raise my hands and gaze up at the sky. It’s my favorite kind of day, sunny with low humidity. The only clouds are small wisps in the faraway distance.
The officer takes a long stride toward me. He turns me around, yanks my arms out of the air and twists them behind my back. I wince as he tightens the cuffs around my wrists.
“Good afternoon, Noah,” Cliff drawls. “I suppose this ain’t a surprise.”
The officer tugs on my shoulder, spinning me to face them. But I keep my gaze lifted to the sky.
Cliff coughs a chuckle full of cruel amusement. I can feel the intensity of his eyes plastered on me, but I refuse to meet his stare.
He seizes my arm. “All right then, let’s go.” Cliff drags me alongside his heavy steps down the stairs. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Elizabeth Barton,” he says as we march. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” I stay silent and he yanks me to a stop beside the squad car. “With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
For the first time, I glare into his eyes. He glares back at me for a long moment.
“Get over here, Moore,” he barks, not shifting his eyes or releasing my forearm as he reaches to open the door. The deputy obeys like dim-witted dog. “Get him in there.” Cliff passes me to the deputy who immediately pushes my head under the doorframe as he shoves me into the backseat.
Cliff twists the key in the ignition and jerks the car into reverse.
As I turn for a final glimpse of the house, I can see Sophia standing on the porch. I can see the face she’d made when Cliff tore me away from her. I can see her blue eyes once again full of tears.
But I have to let her go.
This is the end of us, but it’s the beginning of a life where she can find the happiness she deserves. Where she can live without secrets. Where she can advance her career without the burden of a federally sought criminal at her side. Where she can find someone who will supplement her tough days with carefree weekend activities.
Where she can start over, and eventually forget all about me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sophia
My face is buried in a pillow when my phone rings. I’m not asleep, nowhere close to it either, but I haven’t had the will to move for hours. I turn my head over and drag an arm to my phone on the bedside table.
“Hi Nora,” I mumble with my pillow still half in my mouth.
“Sophia! Jesus, I’m glad you’re okay.”
I barely mumble a confirmation.
“Do you have a second to talk?” she asks hastily.
Ya know… I might just have all the time in the world.
“Yeah, I can talk.”
“I’ll make it quick, I promise—I was in Atlanta for work, got back yesterday and saw everything! Have you… that’s not… is it true?”
I realize how much I’ve been holding onto the faint hope that Nora was calling for any other reason, but it instantly shatters. Angst courses through my limbs and I feel the weight of the entire world in my gut.
“Yes,” I say feebly.
“It was Noah? Like… your Noah?”
The way she says it makes my chest lock up.
My Noah.
A week ago she was more than willing to shrug him off, yet now she has no problem pairing us together. Just like everyone else.
I feel a sudden urge to deny it, not because I’d rather lie, bu
t because it feels like I’m accepting something utterly impossible. Something fake.
But that’s not the case. And continuing to refuse it is only going to prolong the pain.
I close my eyes and swallow hard before I reply. “It appears like it.”
“No!” she exclaims. “Sophia, no! That’s awful. Did you know the victim?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“He didn’t go after you too, did he?”
“No!” For some reason that strikes a nerve. Noah would’ve never hurt me. But as soon as the thought comes to mind, there immediately comes another…
I could’ve easily been in danger without ever knowing.
I flash back to the night I was pulled over. Sheriff Vernon outside my window. Noah sitting silently to my right. It’s an image I’ve repeatedly blocked out. At least until now.
I roll over and try to push it all away, but I can’t rid my mind of the sheriff’s face. His voice…
Surprised to see you out with a knucklehead.
A cold shiver zaps up my spine. Is it possible he knew something about Noah that I didn’t?
Of course it is.
It’s not even unlikely. He’s the sheriff. And he and Noah knew each other, they had something between them. Something weird. And this is why.
My body deflates and hot tears fill my eyes.
“God, I’m so glad you’re not hurt,” Nora says. The surprise in her voice has softened into sympathy. “You must be in shock.”
There it is. Her tenderness unleashes tears down my cheeks.
“Sophia? Are you okay babes?”
My voice is stuck in my throat when I try to answer. “No, not at all,” I choke out. More tears trail down my face and soak into my pillow.
“Oh girly,” she whispers. “Talk to me, don’t hold it in.”
“I don’t know what the hell is going on, Nora!”
“Hey now! You’re not blaming yourself, are you?”
I mumble I don’t know, but it sounds more like a messy sob.
A Capital Mistake Page 15