Emily sighed. Relief flooded through her. She didn’t know what Zed was doing here, but thank God he was. He could help her stop Mitch from beating the living daylights out of Rod. And Emily had no doubt that if he got his hands on the boy, that’s exactly what Mitch would do.
“Em?” Smiling, Nikki glanced over her shoulder. “You’re back early.”
Emily dashed across the shop and grabbed Zed’s arm. “Please, help me. We’ve got to stop Mitch. I don’t know how much of a head start he has, but if we don’t hurry, it’ll be too late.”
Zed followed Emily into her office. Standing in the doorway, he watched while she flipped through her address book.
“Come on. I’ve got his address now.” Emily paused beside Zed, her gaze meeting his.
Zed clutched Emily’s shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just told you. We’ve got to stop Mitch!” Emily dropped her tightly balled fists to Zed’s chest. “Someone called me while I was in the middle of my class at the art museum. They said that Rod had confessed to the break-ins and that Mitch was on his way to Rod’s apartment to—” Emily gulped in large swallows of air. “Come on. Hurry. Please, Zed. Let’s go. Now!”
“Em, you’re hysterical.” Nikki backed down off the ladder. “Who called you?”
“We’re wasting time with all these questions.” Emily pulled on Zed’s arm. “I don’t want Mitch to hurt Rod, no matter what Rod’s done. And I certainly don’t want Mitch to get into trouble.”
Zed shook her gently. “Calm down. I’ll go with you.”
Nikki grasped Emily’s arm, halting her mad rush out the door. “Mitch isn’t going to do anything stupid. He probably just wants to confront Rod. Besides, if you don’t know who called you, then how can you be sure what they said is true?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Emily admitted. “But if it is true, Mitch might tear Rod apart. You know how protective he is of me.”
“Where’s Rod’s apartment?” Zed asked.
“Greenbriar Apartments on Wayland Street,” Emily said.
“Come on, we’ll take my car,” Zed told her.
Two police cars blocked the entrance to the Greenbriar Apartments. Emily clutched Nikki’s hand as she stared at the flashing lights atop the vehicles. Her breath caught in her throat; her chest constricted painfully.
“Something’s wrong,” she said.
Emily glanced at Zed, who swerved his Jeep Grand Cherokee up on the sidewalk and into the parking area to the left of the police cars. A young officer strutted toward Zed, hollering at him to move his Jeep.
“Stay put,” Zed told Nikki and Emily. “I’ll find out what’s going on.” He got out and met the young policeman. “What’s wrong here, Officer?”
“Mister, you’ll have to move your Jeep. We’ve got a homicide here. We don’t want anybody interfering with our investigation.”
Emily stuck her head out the Jeep window and called to Zed. “Who’s been killed? Ask him about—”
“Look, Officer—” Zed noted the youth’s name badge. “Of ficer Monroe, we have a...an acquaintance who lives here and the ladies are understandably worried. Could you just tell me the victim’s name?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not at liberty to release any information at this time.”
Emily clutched her hands together in an effort to keep them from trembling. A homicide. Someone had been murdered. The victim couldn’t be Rod Simmons. Mitch might have beaten him up, but he never would have killed him!
With siren blaring, an ambulance pulled up behind the police cars. Officer Monroe hopped in one of the vehicles and pulled it out of the way, allowing the ambulance to drive into the rectangular-shaped parking area in front of the apartment building. Zed slipped around the other police car and walked toward the manager’s office.
Emily opened the door. Nikki grabbed her by the arm.
“Zed told us to stay put,” Nikki said.
“I can’t stay here not knowing what’s happened and if Mitch is somehow involved.” Emily got out; Nikki quickly followed her.
Zed motioned to them, warning them to stay back, but Emily disregarded his caution. Officer Monroe spotted the two women and stopped them before they could reach Zed.
“Ladies, I’ll have to ask y’all to leave,” Monroe said.
“Please.” Emily gave the officer her most soulful expression and lowered her voice to an irresistible feminine sweetness. “If you could just reassure us that our friend isn’t the victim, I promise we’ll be on our way.”
“I wish I could help you, ma’am, but—”
At that precise moment a man in a dark suit and a uniformed policeman led a handcuffed Mitch out of a ground-level apartment and into the parking area. Nikki gripped Emily’s hand. Zed dashed down the sidewalk, headed in Mitch’s direction.
“Mitch!” Emily screamed his name.
Mitch inclined his head, looking in all directions. “Emily!”
Emily jerked away from Nikki and shoved past Officer Monroe. Paying no heed to Nikki’s cries or the young policeman’s commands, she rushed straight toward the man she loved. All that mattered to her was getting to Mitch.
When Emily neared Mitch, Zed Banning grabbed her. “He’s being arrested. They’re not going to let you see him. Not now.”
“Zed,” Mitch called out. “Take care of her, will you? And get me a lawyer.” He nodded at the men holding him prisoner. “They’re taking me to the police station. They think I killed Rod Simmons.”
“No,” Emily cried. “Please, no.”
“Pull yourself together,” Zed whispered softly to Emily. “We’ll find out what the hell’s going on. I’ll get Mitch a lawyer. Trust me. I’ll handle things.” Zed pulled Emily to his side and slipped his arm around her waist. “I’ll take care of everything,” Zed told Mitch.
The police placed Mitch in the back of the patrol car. Emily and Zed stood and watched them leave, then Zed led Emily away from the scene just as the attendants brought out a body bag and placed it in the ambulance. Nikki rushed over to Emily.
“Come on, Em. Let’s get out of here.” Nikki held tightly to Emily’s hands, while Zed kept his arm draped around her waist.
“I can’t believe this,” Emily said. “Mitch wouldn’t kill Rod. He wouldn’t kill anybody.”
“Only in self-defense,” Zed assured her.
Emily allowed Zed and Nikki to help her to the Jeep. Nikki crawled in the back seat with her, but Emily pulled away when her friend reached out for her.
“I’m all right,” Emily said. “We have to help Mitch. He’ll need a lawyer.”
“I’ll call Jason Wilbanks, my lawyer, and he can get hold of the best criminal lawyer in these parts.” Zed started the Jeep, backed up and headed toward downtown Fairhope.
Emily sat quietly, a slow, deadly numbness spreading through her. Doubts and uncertainties waged a silent war with love and trust.
Rod was dead. Shy, sweet, talented Rod. But how was that possible? Mitch wouldn’t have killed him. He couldn’t have. Could he? She wanted to believe that Mitch was innocent, that he was not capable of murder.
She had to see him, talk to him, hear him say that he hadn’t killed Rod Simmons.
His head hurt like hell! Mitch squirmed in the wooden chair, his mind only now clearing enough for him to fully realize exactly what had happened to him. He’d been set up. But by whom? And why? Because of his relationship with Emily? That had to be it. Nothing else made any sense.
“Want to tell me what happened?” the heavyset man in a tailored, three-piece suit asked.
Mitch glanced over at the lawyer Zed Banning had hired for him. His old friend had wasted no time in getting the man to the Fairhope police station. The police were still waiting to question Mitch; he had adamantly refused to give them any answers without his lawyer present.
“What’s your name?” Mitch asked.
“Gerald Hightower. Are you sure you’re all right, Mr. Hayden? Sure you don’t need a do
ctor? I told you my name when I walked in here less than two minutes ago.”
“Sorry.” Mitch rubbed the knot on his head. “I’m okay. Just a bit fuzzy. Whoever hit me gave me more than one lick. I feel like I’ve been run over by a Mack truck.”
Mitch surveyed the lawyer from his neatly styled brown hair to the tips of his Italian leather shoes. The man looked successful. Hell, the guy looked rich.
“I want you to tell me everything that happened. And I mean everything,” Gerald Hightower said. “I guess you realize you’re in a lot of trouble, Mr. Hayden. You were found at the scene, with the murder weapon in your hand.”
“Yeah, I know it looks bad. But I swear I didn’t kill Rod Simmons. I had no reason to kill the boy.”
Mitch wondered why Emily and Zed and Nikki had shown up at the Greenbriar Apartments just when he was being arrested. Maybe whoever had set him up had wanted to make sure Emily saw the police take him away.
“Why did you take a weapon to Rod Simmons’s apartment?” Hightower asked.
“For self-defense,” Mitch said. “But it didn’t help me much, did it? I got coldcocked from behind, and the killer used my gun.”
“You didn’t see who hit you?”
“Nope.”
“Well, the killer did more than use your gun, Mr. Hayden. He used your hand to pull the trigger.”
Mitch groaned. He’d been set up royally. The real killer had set a trap and he’d walked right into it, so sure he could handle the situation. But he thought he was dealing with Rod Simmons. Poor guy. Someone was willing to murder Simmons and let him hang for the crime in order to clear a path to Emily. Who? He could think of only one person. Charles Tolbert. Hell, he’d never figured the guy had the guts for it. But there was no one else, was there? Unless Fowler Jordan...
“Do you have any idea who’d want to frame you for murder, Mr. Hayden?”
“Sit down, Counselor.” Mitch pointed to the chair on the other side of the table. “I have a long, sordid little story to tell you.”
Chapter 18
Emily couldn’t believe that it had come to this. Today was Mitch’s preliminary hearing. The past two days had been a living hell for her. The police weren’t interested in another suspect, weren’t interested in listening to anyone’s theories about what might have happened the afternoon Rod Simmons was murdered. As far as they were concerned, they had their man.
Mitch had been transferred from the Fairhope jail to the Baldwin County jail in Bay Minette yesterday morning. At this point all they could hope for was that the judge would release Mitch on bail. Mr. Hightower had said the evidence against Mitch was so strong that there was no doubt he would have to stand trial.
For the first time since her marriage to Stuart, Emily hadn’t been able to turn to Fowler Jordan for help. When she had suggested that Charles might be Rod’s murderer, her uncle had gone into a rage.
“I can’t believe that you’re still defending Mitchell Hayden!” Fowler had said. “Despite everything he’s done-killing Stuart and your baby and now Rod Simmons—you still think you’re in love with him.”
She had wanted to confront Charles, but realized that she should heed Nikki’s warning to stay away from him. After all, he would hardly confess to murder. And if he really was unbalanced, who was to say what he might do?
“I’m going to take a shower,” Nikki called out from her bedroom. “Zed’s not due here to pick us up for another hour, is he?”
Emily checked the wall clock. “Fifty minutes. You’ve got plenty of time.”
The telephone rang. Emily jumped. She’d been a nervous wreck for the past two days. She picked up the receiver. “Hello, Nikki Griffin’s residence.”
“Emily, my dear, I must see you immediately. Your very life could depend upon it.”
“Uncle Fowler?”
“Yes, dear. Please, come to Mobile, to my house, as quickly as you can.”
“What’s wrong? What do you mean my life could depend on it?” Emily’s stomach flip-flopped.
“Are you alone, my dear? Is there someone else listening to our conversation?”
“Nikki’s taking a shower. I’m alone in her living room. We’re waiting for Zed to pick us up for Mitch’s preliminary hearing. What’s going on, Uncle Fowler? You’re scaring me.”
“You have every right to be scared, after what I’ve just learned.”
“What have you just learned?”
“I’ve discovered the truth, a horrible, ugly truth, about Charles.” Fowler’s voice quivered.
“What have you found out about Charles?”
“Charles has been behind everything. He confessed to me. He...he...oh, dear God, Emily, how could I have been so blind?”
“You have to call the police, Uncle Fowler. Now. Tell them what you know.”
“No, Emily, I—I’m not certain I can do that.” Fowler’s voice lowered to a mere whisper. “I need to see you...to talk to you...before I turn Charles over to the police. I want to do the right thing. But...Charles has been like a son to me. I need to talk to you, for you to help me do what I must. Please, Emily.”
“Are you at home now, Uncle Fowler?” Emily asked.
“Yes, I’m at home. Charles just left. He went on in to work as if...as if nothing had happened. He thinks I see things his way. That I approve of what he did.”
“Stay right there. I’ll call the police and have them meet me at your house.”
“No, please, Emily. Please, come and talk to me first, then...then I promise I’ll go with you to the police.”
“Uncle Fowler, I don’t understand why you want to wait, why you—”
“Please, come to me as quickly as you can. And please, don’t mention this to anyone. Not even Nikki. I simply can’t believe that Charles would... He actually killed Rod Simmons and framed Mitch Hayden.”
Emily debated her options. Poor Uncle Fowler was distraught. He wasn’t thinking clearly. It was up to her to stay sane and rational, but it was also up to her to keep her uncle calm and willing to turn his beloved protégé over to the police.
“I’ll leave right now and be at your house shortly,” she told him.
“You won’t call the police? You’ll come here and talk to me, and then we’ll go to the station together?”
“I won’t call the police. I’ll be there in a little while, and I’ll stand by you and help you get through this nightmare. I promise.”
“You’re such a dear girl. I do love you so, Emily.”
“Just sit tight until I get there, and if Charles returns before—”
“He won’t. Remember, he thinks I’m on his side. That I actually approve of what he did.” Fowler sighed deeply. “Please hurry.”
“I’m on my way.” Emily replaced the receiver, breathed in deeply, then released her breath slowly.
Her instincts told her to call the police, but if she did and they showed up on her uncle’s doorstep, he might panic. Once he saw that she was there to give him all the support he needed, he would do the right thing. Knowing how her uncle felt about Charles, and his obvious emotional dilemma over having to turn him in to the authorities, Emily didn’t want to do anything that might cause him any more grief.
But if she didn’t show up at Mitch’s hearing, he would worry and wonder what had happened to her. And if she just left without leaving any kind of message, Nikki would go ballistic.
Checking her watch, she realized court would convene soon. If she could persuade her uncle to go to the police immediately, Mitch would be a free man today.
She had to hurry. She scribbled a quick note for Nikki, telling her that she’d meet her and Zed at the Bay Minette courthouse, that she wanted to leave early so she could see Mitch before the hearing. Just a little white lie so Nikki wouldn’t worry too much.
But she needed to let someone know where she was going, so that if she was delayed, Mitch wouldn’t worry. She decided the best thing to do was leave a message with Zed Banning’s secretary.
Emily jerked up the .phone, hurriedly punched the numbers for Zed’s office and waited. “This is Emily Jordan. I need for you to get a message to Mr. Banning at the courthouse later this morning.”
“You can reach him on his cellular phone,” Sandra Whitten said. “You have that number, don’t you, Ms. Jordan?”
“No, I don’t want to call Zed and disturb him right now. Please, just make sure he receives my message when he arrives at the courthouse.”
“All right, Ms. Jordan. What message would you like for me to relay?”
“Please write this down and get every word,” Emily said. “Tell Zed that I am meeting my Uncle Fowler at his house, and that I’ll bring my uncle with me to Bay Minette. He has discovered that Charles Tolbert killed Rod Simmons.”
“Is that the complete message?” Sandra asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Fowler met Emily at the door and pulled her into an embrace, hugging her fiercely. “Thank God, you’re all right. Did you park in the garage, the way I asked?”
She slipped her arm around his thin waist and led him from the foyer into the front parlor. “Of course I’m all right. And yes, I parked my car in the garage, but I don’t understand why—”
“I’m heartsick, my dear, simply heartsick. To think that I trusted him, loved him like a son, wanted you to marry him.”
“Come on and sit down, Uncle Fowler. We need to decide how you want to handle this situation.”
He glared at her, his mouth trembling as he spoke. “You didn’t call the police, did you?”
“I promised you that I wouldn’t,” she told him. “And you promised me that you would—”
“Yes. Yes, I will. I will. I’ll do what I must do. But first, I need time to think, to try to make sense of what has happened, to understand why Charles would do such a thing.”
“Don’t torture yourself this way. It breaks my heart to see you so upset.”
Fowler allowed Emily to help him onto the sofa. When she sat down beside him, he clasped her hands. “You’re so very sweet. You know that all I’ve ever wanted for you was your happiness.”
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