by J. A. Owenby
“I’m Detective Jacobs.” He folded his large hands on the table and had the audacity to smile at me.
This isn’t a party, dude. Go sweet-talk someone else.
“I understand you lawyered up, and he should be here shortly. I spoke with Michael and Marilyn Parker, who insisted they wait here at the station for you.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. Help was on the way.
“I also learned that you and your friend Benji Parker were brutally attacked a few months ago. I wanted to let you know the men who were responsible will be charged with first-degree aggravated assault and first-degree attempted rape. Hate crimes are not taken lightly in Washington, plus it’s a federal offense. They will pay for what they did.”
“Really? Oh my God, that’s wonderful news!” I slapped my hand over my mouth. Dammit. He was good. He was trying to connect with me so I would confess to whatever crap I didn’t do.
“I thought you’d appreciate having that information. Michael, Marilyn, and Benji also know.”
At least the attackers weren’t able to walk away after what they’d done to Benji, but neither was he.
He raised one beautifully arched brow at me. “Now, why don’t we cut all the bullshit and just have a chat?”
The door swung open, startling me.
“You’re not harassing my client, are you?” A stunning man with beautiful blue eyes closed the door behind him. He smoothed his red tie, which complemented his expensive black suit, and walked toward me. I’d heard the term silver fox before, but I hadn’t seen any until now. Jiminy Christmas. Where do they hide these men?
Detective Jacobs flashed a reassuring smile at my new lawyer. “No. I was just giving her some good news concerning the men who assaulted her and her best friend a few months ago.”
My attorney harrumphed and sat in the seat next to me. His kind blue eyes searched mine. “Are you all right? Were they coercing you to talk? Were you manhandled at all?”
“No, sir. I’m okay. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”
“My name is Franklin Harrington. Michael and Marilyn retained me, so I’m at your service.” Why does the name Harrington sound so familiar?
He patted me on the back and gave me a gentle smile before he turned toward the detective. His expression morphed into something more eager, as though the hunter had just become the prey, and his laser focus homed in on Detective Jacobs.
I almost giggled, partly out of nerves, but also because I knew that Michael and Marilyn would never screw around with my life by hiring a shitty attorney. I owed them big.
Franklin rubbed his chin, then folded his hands on the table and mimicked Detective Jacobs’s body language. The tension was palpable in the little room, and I struggled to suppress my leg from bouncing.
“What’s this about?” Franklin asked. “The FBI storms into my client’s home for what exactly?”
The detective didn’t flinch as he responded. “We had probable cause.”
“I certainly hope you can back it up, because if not, my client will sue the department for breaking and entering, invasion of privacy, sexual assault, and anything else I can think of. I’ll have you all so buried in paperwork, you’ll never see another vacation.”
Damn. Franklin wasn’t playing.
Detective Jacobs slapped a manila envelope on the table and slid it to me.
Franklin gently moved my hand away and pulled it toward him. “Don’t say a word until you and I have an opportunity to talk. Let me handle everything until you’re released.”
I nodded my agreement, secretly relieved he was taking care of me.
Franklin moved the folder, blocking my view, and opened it. His expression never changed as he sifted through the contents. When he was finished, he slapped it on the table and slid it toward me. “What’s this have to do with my client?”
I lifted the flap of the envelope and peered at the pictures. The color drained from my face as I sifted through the first three, then set them down. My stomach churned, and I willed myself not to vomit.
The detective leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving me. “Does the name Jack Flannery mean anything to you?”
I racked my brain for any recollection, but I had no clue who Jack Flannery was. In fact, no one had mentioned his name to me in the past or recently. With each second that ticked by, I was growing more and more confused.
“Of course it does,” Franklin retorted. “He’s on the national news for murders in eleven states.”
Fuck. Murder? Eleven states? I dug my fingernails into my leg. My yoga pants didn’t provide any protection from the self-inflicted pain. Under no circumstances could I say anything. This had suddenly become more serious than I’d speculated. Terror ripped through me.
What if Layne used an alias? What if Layne is Jack Flannery? Have I just given my heart and body to a serial killer?
16
No matter how hard I tried, my breaths came in short bursts.
Franklin turned toward me, his eyebrow arching. “I need some time with my client.”
Detective Jacobs grinned like he’d just caught the mouse he’d been hunting. “You got it.” He stood and left the room.
“Tensley, there are cameras in here, but I need to know if you’re all right.”
I fanned my face as beads of perspiration trickled down my spine. “What if—”
“Whisper it in my ear.” Franklin leaned into me.
“Is my boyfriend Jack Flannery? Did he murder people? I thought his name was Layne Garrison.” Tears streamed down my cheeks, and I buried my face in my hands as the harsh reality squeezed the life out of my heart, and I broke into sobs.
Franklin patted my hand. “I have a son and daughter your age. I’d do anything for them, protect them from any harm. In fact, I have, but that’s a story for another day. You might actually be familiar with the music group August Clover.”
“What?” I hiccupped. “They’re one of my favorite groups. You’re Hendrix Harrington’s father? And you know Gemma?” For a moment, my mind was distracted from the hell I was in the middle of.
He chuckled. “I am.”
Then I realized he and Hendrix looked nearly identical except for the height, hair length, and age. My tears and anxiety began to settle down the more he spoke.
“I helped Gemma with some difficult legal issues concerning her father. I didn’t represent her because I was too close to the situation, and it occurred in Louisiana. Normally, I take on cases concerning adults, but over the last few years, I’ve found some great kids in hot water, and it wasn’t of their own choosing. If you’ve kept up with Gemma’s story, you know she’s doing very well now. I can’t divulge the details to you, but I’m not opposed to connecting the two of you. She might be of some valuable support.”
I frowned. Although I would wet my pants if I met Hendrix and Gemma, I didn’t understand how it all came back to me. I was familiar enough with distraction techniques used to help someone calm down, but now I was incredibly puzzled.
“Okay. But I don’t know why I’m here.” I leaned into him and whispered, “Are you saying Layne isn’t a murderer?”
“I can’t answer that yet, but we’re going to find out. Are you okay moving forward? If so, I’ll step out, grab you something to drink, and invite the detective to join us.”
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to hear the truth. “Yes. Thank you. Something to drink would be great.” I offered him the best smile I could muster.
Drumming my fingers against the scuffed wooden table, I did my best to remain calm. Franklin seemed like a good guy who cared about helping me. Plus I trusted Michael and Marilyn. Although my pulse had kicked into overdrive, my tears had dried, and I felt a little more settled.
Five minutes later, Franklin strolled back in with the detective on his heels.
“Jack Flannery,” Detective Jacobs began, “is wanted in eleven states. We tracked him here.” His green eyes landed on me, sending shive
rs over my body. “To your house, Victoria.”
The cops knew Victoria was no longer my legal name. They were trying to rattle me, and it was working.
“That’s not her name. If you’re interested in someone named Victoria, we’re done here.” Franklin began to stand. I looked at him wide-eyed, wondering if it could really be that simple.
“Not so fast, Franklin.” The detective held up his hand. “When she was read her Miranda rights, she was addressed by her legal name. However, Victoria Alison Benton was her birth name, and she is the daughter of Jack Flannery.”
“What the h-h-hell?” I sputtered, my mouth gaping open in horror. “No. I don’t even remember my father. He married my mom, and his name was Bart Benton. He took off when I’d barely turned three. I never saw him again.” Desperation and shock rippled off me as I looked at Franklin.
“Let me handle this,” he reminded me calmly.
They were wrong. I was in no way related to a monster that could murder someone, much less multiple someones in eleven states. Shit.
“Do you have proof, or are you guessing, hoping something will come together?” Franklin asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. Confidence radiated off him.
I literally wanted to hide behind him.
The detective retrieved a photo from the inside of his cheap suit pocket and slid it over to us. Franklin and I both bent over the photo, and my insides twitched. It was my house. A strikingly handsome man who looked to be in his mid-fifties was slipping inside the tool shed. It was too dark to make out a lot of the details, but he was tall and well-built. His hair was thinning slightly on the top, but I couldn’t make out what color it was. There was no mistaking that it was my home, though.
“Your girl here is hiding a serial killer,” Detective Jacobs said, “with her boyfriend’s help.”
“What? I … no! I don’t even know who that man is. Yes, it’s—”
Franklin patted my hand to silence me. He leaned his elbows on the table and smiled. “Have you seen this man enter Tensley’s home? Have you seen her answer the door and slip him inside? Or her boyfriend? When was this photo taken?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Franklin chuckled. “You’ve got nothing, or you would have moved in faster. For all we know, he had no idea whose house he was at. Or maybe he did, and he wanted to keep tabs on her for whatever reason. But unless you can prove that my client aided and abetted a criminal, we’re leaving.” Franklin motioned for me to follow him. “If you need anything else, feel free to contact me.” He tossed a business card on the table then gently placed his hand on my back and guided me out of the door, leaving the detective alone in the room.
“Tensley,” Franklin said once we were in the hall, away from anyone, “is Jack Flannery your father?”
My eyes brimmed with tears as I shrugged. “I don’t remember him.”
“How do you feel about a DNA test to at least be sure? Regardless if he is or isn’t, he’s been on your property, and you’re in grave danger.”
“Can we talk somewhere else? I have questions, and I need to see if Layne is all right. I thought … I thought the FBI was after him.” I covered my mouth with my hand, attempting to hold back the tears. I was so relieved that he was still my Layne, at least for the moment. I assumed he’d learned about Jack Flannery as well, and that most likely changed everything between us. There was no way Layne would want to date a serial killer’s daughter.
“It’s a little after midnight, but everything is fresh in your mind, and I now have the file with all the information I need. Let’s wait for Layne to be released, then I can take you to my office.”
With every step toward the exit, my pulse picked up pace. I couldn’t even imagine what Michael and Marilyn would think. But as we rounded the corner, I found them pacing and holding hands.
The moment Marilyn saw me, she rushed to me and hugged me hard. “Are you all right?” She grabbed my shoulders, scanning me for anything amiss.
“I’m physically fine. And thank you for sending Mr. Harrington. I promise I’ll repay you.”
“Don’t you even worry about it. He owes me one,” Michael said, shaking Franklin’s hand and smiling.
“Happy to help,” Franklin said. “We might have an interesting road ahead of us.”
“Tensley?”
I whirled around, my stomach twisting into knots.
Before I had time to speak his name, Layne bolted to me, picked me up off the floor, and hugged me. “Babe, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Are you?”
He gently lowered me to the ground and kissed me. “No one laid a hand on you or bullied you?” He smoothed the hair from my face while he quickly assessed me.
I shook my head. “Do you know? Did they tell you why the FBI showed up?” Showed up was an understatement. It would’ve been more accurate to say they charged in like a fucking bull that was mad as hell.
“Yeah, and I don’t know the entire story, but this changes nothing. I don’t give a shit who your father is. I love you. You don’t have to say it back until you’re ready, but I want you to know you own my heart.” He leaned down and kissed me again. “I’m right here with you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, my chin wobbling for the umpteenth time that night.
“Tensley, let’s get everyone to my place. I’ll make some coffee and we can speak openly,” Franklin suggested.
“You can both ride with us,” Marilyn said, wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders.
Layne held my hand tightly, giving me a reassuring squeeze, silently telling me that he wasn’t going anywhere. I hoped like hell.
“Wait What about Benji?” I asked.
“My sister is with him,” Michael piped in. “But he’ll be on pins and needles until he knows you’re okay.”
I directed my attention to Franklin. “If I don’t discuss any details with him, can I at least call and let him know I’m okay?”
“Of course. I’ve known Benji since he was ten. He’s a great guy, and I trust he can keep things under wraps. But for now, just tell him you’re all right and will give him more information as soon as you can.”
“Thank you.”
We left the police station together, and Layne continued to place soft kisses on the back of my hand. We slipped into the back of Michael’s Lexus SUV, and I called Benji the moment we were on the way to Franklin’s.
“I’ve been going crazy for hours. What the hell happened?” Benji asked as soon as he answered the phone.
“I can’t tell you anything yet. Besides, we’re still trying to figure it out ourselves. But I’ll fill you in as soon as I can. We’re on our way to Franklin Harrington’s house to discuss the next steps.” I blew out a huge breath and rubbed my forehead. I’d been through a lot of shit in my life, but this might have topped it all. “Maybe I’ll be able to tell you more tomorrow. I’m safe, though. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you called. And seriously, Ten, try to stay out of trouble until tomorrow, will ya?”
“I’ll do my best.” Benji didn’t evoke a laugh from me, but I did smile. I tapped the red End Call button and reached for Layne’s hand.
Marilyn eyed us over her shoulder. then smiled. “I see you two figured out your way to each other.”
Layne kissed the back of my hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” Her face grew serious as she twisted around in her seat a little more. “If you hurt her, you’ll have Michael to deal with, but even worse … me.”
“I understand.”
The moment Marilyn turned around, Layne sank into his seat slightly and rubbed his eyes. He peeked at me and winked. Maybe he was processing the fact that Marilyn had basically threatened his life if he screwed me over.
I was just thankful I had some type of parents in my life that loved me. If I’d ever doubted Michael and Marilyn, I didn’t after that night.
Michael took a
sharp turn off Division and continued to follow Franklin’s car.
“How long have you known Mr. Harrington?” I asked.
“Michael and I were friends with his wife, Janice, before they met. They divorced for a while but recently worked things out. Franklin has had his share of life and bad choices, but he’s done a remarkable job at repairing the damage. He’s very well-respected in Washington.”
“He mentioned his son, Hendrix.”
A broad smile eased across Marilyn’s face. “He’s an amazing young man and doing so well for himself. Franklin said the band will begin a new tour soon.”
“I love August Clover!” I covered my mouth with my hand, realizing my voice had been too loud for the confined space.
“Wait, your lawyer is the Hendrix Harrington’s dad?” Layne’s eyes widened with the realization.
“Yes!”
His face lit up. “Holy crap. I’ve followed their success since the band was formed. I had no idea you liked them.”
“My fave. And, oh man, Gemma’s voice is amazing. She and Hendrix complement each other so well.” I released a total fangirl sigh right next to my boyfriend.
“Have you heard Cade’s new song?” Layne asked.
“Oh my God, it’s so so good.”
“I’m taking you to a concert after all of this is over. Maybe it will give us something to look forward to while Franklin figures all of this out.”
I nodded, reality weighing heavily on my shoulders again. “I’d love that.”
We fell into a heavy silence until Michael pulled into a long, curved driveway and parked in front of a mansion.
“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath, then chastised myself for swearing around Michael and Marilyn.
17
It was almost one in the morning when we all filed into Franklin’s house. I thought Michael and Marilyn’s home was luxurious, but Franklin’s stole my breath away.
“Come on in,” Franklin said, keying in the code and stepping inside. “Janice is asleep, but she won’t hear us.”