In My Custody

by Stella Marie Alden

  Sienna touches my arm. “No, no. If he saw them, Peter would’ve taken them down and I’ve checked the live audio feed. There’s been nothing but gurgling brooks and croaking bull frogs since that night.” She shrugs and looks out the window.

  Jack glances across the seat at Sienna, impatience beginning to show. “So, where is this place?”

  “Give me your phone. I’ll put the location in.” Still worrying her lower lip, Sienna fingers in the address, sighs, and hands the cell phone over the seat to Jack.

  “Don’t do that.” I free her lip again. “You need to trust me, okay?”

  She exhales, shoulders dropping. “Okay. Peter’s company has a few hundred acres of woods in Tuxedo. He used to take me there when we first started dating. He said they don’t use the land for anything other than a tax write-off. There’s a deer path next to a stream that no one uses. I figured it would be a great place to capture natural sounds. He’s been dead for two years. It’s just… weird… to think he’s been alive and didn’t even try to contact me. I mean, I was his wife. You know?”

  I take her hands in mine, not knowing how to answer as I try to imagine what Peter Olafson put her through. Quiet for a while, we stare down at the Hudson as we drive over the upper level of the George Washington Bridge.

  My arm slips over her shoulder. “No one in their right mind would let a woman like you go.” I’m taking a chance by telling her this but when she sang tonight, something inside me snapped.

  Deep pools of blue stare up at me, surrounded by smoky, sexy make-up. Her lips are red and her cheeks tinged with blush. As beautiful as the fake shit is, I long to wipe it all off and find the sweet girl underneath.

  I lean in slightly, wondering if she’ll let me kiss her. When her chin tilts up and her lids lower, my cock crams my jeans and shouts, Do it, man, go for it.

  Unlike Peter, I’m not stupid.

  Gently, my mouth caresses hers. When she responds by pressing back, my hands slip into her hair and I hold her there. She lets out a little sigh, and opens her eyes, almost as shocked as me.

  Pure fucking electricity laced with some kind of girl-next-door cherry flavor makes me want to rethink my whole life. If it weren’t for the two people in the front seat, we’d be tearing off each other’s clothes. Instead, we just stare, mouths wide, gasping for breath.

  That was one hell of a kiss. “Damn.”

  “You got that right.” She smiles and touches the roughness of my light beard, then a fingertip goes to my mouth. “These are nice.”

  Oh, gorgeous, they are so not nice. They want to devour you from the tips of your eyelashes to your painted toenails. They want to kiss between your legs until you scream with an incredible orgasm.

  I squeeze her hand and let her believe that I’m a gentleman. “After this is over. I am going to ask you out on a date.”

  She escapes my gaze and lowers her lashes. “I, ah, don’t do long term. Okay?”

  It’s not okay by a long shot but I don’t say so. “Slow down, the only thing I’m proposing is a nice meal, a glass of wine, and some talking.”

  “Riiight. Followed by sex.” That snarky smile pops back into place.

  I’m amused she was thinking along the same lines as me. “Hey, you said it, not me. I’m willing to put out as long as you respect me in the morning.”

  She snickers. “Maybe I’ll just insist on an expensive dinner and leave you hanging.”

  “Oh honey, it won’t be hanging.”

  She blushes and I wish Jack had taken the limo so I could put a dark window between the front and back seats. If so, I’d have her straddled over me, her jeans down around her heels, and me thrusting into her.

  Not the time or place, I rest back and shut my eyes. It’s hot as hell when her head drops into my lap but when I look down, she’s asleep. After my raging hard on subsides, I snooze on and off, as well.

  When I wake, the horizon glows orange over a forest of pines. Jack clears his throat, glances into the rearview and pulls off the highway. “We’re close.”

  Sienna stretches, yawns, then points to the right over the front seat. “There’s a dirt road in a couple miles. It’s not on the map.”

  Another one of my dad’s favorite sayings comes to mind as I scratch the growth on my chin. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.

  “We should’ve stopped for more coffee.” The beautiful woman next to me gives me this incredible smile.

  “That’s it! Stop.” She points, Jack slams on the brakes, and her stunning behind goes right into my face.

  Unaware of how close my mouth is to her lovely buns, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Ah, let’s see. I usually park under those trees. Then, it’s not too far, maybe a five-minute walk. There’s the cellar hole in front of the farmhouse that burned down in the thirties.”

  We all pile out of the car, a fucking parade of comic book characters. Jack’s all military, Dahlyla’s the femme fatale, and Sienna’s jumping around with nervous energy.

  Me? I’m wondering if we’ll all be arrested because about eye height, there’s no-trespassing signs posted everywhere.

  It’s a misdemeanor, but still, I’d rather not have to explain to a judge why we’re here.

  Frowning, Jack ups his pace as Sienna dashes ahead. At one time, this must’ve been a beautiful estate. There’s an overgrown cement walk, statuaries, and a broken fountain covered in vines. It’s like walking onto a post-apocalyptic movie set with a sound track of gurgling water. Without thinking, Sienna drops back to take my hand and my heart lightens. I squeeze hers as we near the brook. When we stop, there’s a strong whiff of urine, blood, and a whole lot worse.

  Death.

  “Ah shit. Jack? Keep them here.” Just a few feet ahead, a body rests on the forest floor. More out of habit than need, I put my finger to the cold, lifeless skin of the dead man’s neck.

  Jack comes up behind me. “What do you want to do, counselor?”

  “We need to call the police.” I shout to the women, a few feet down the path, “There’s a dead body. You can come but be prepared.”

  Dahlyla keeps her distance, dark skin pasty and eyes wide but Sienna squats for a closer look.

  Then, her face too, pales as she gasps. “Oh my God. That’s not Peter, it’s his brother, Adrian.”

  “Where’re your mics, Sienna?” Jack grimaces and snaps pictures with his cell phone.

  “Up there.” She points overhead in the oaks.

  “Holy fuck. You climbed all the way up there?” My heart goes into my throat. “You could’ve broken your stupid neck.”

  Jack punches my arm. “Focus, counselor. Sienna, any chance you got a recording of what went down?”

  Sienna’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit, probably. I just need a computer to log onto.”

  Done taking pictures, Jack herds us back to the SUV. “I figure the body’s been there about twenty-four hours.” He glances at Sienna. “Do you have an alibi for yesterday.”

  My heart goes out to her when she groans. “Not all the time. I was all alone when I took a nap. You don’t think I’m a suspect?”

  “Maybe not but they’re going to question you.”

  “Not again.” She whispers. “This can’t be happening.”

  Chapter 8

  Sienna

  Back in the clearing, Jack calls nine-one-one and explains our situation in terse military-speak while I sit in the back of his SUV, trying to get the smell of Adrian’s body out of my nose. He was thinner than my husband, his hair lighter, and his features softer. I recall laughing with his wife on my wedding day.

  It’s terrible, but when I first thought the body belonged to Peter, I was relieved, almost happy, but after I squatted and looked closer, a sense of sadness overwhelmed me.

  Now, tears roll down my face and I don’t know why. I only met Peter’s brother a couple times. Without warning, I flash back to the weeks right after the plane went down. Night after night, day after day, I held vigils, waiting to hea
r. Finally, the coast guard found the wreckage using some kind of sonar. They said two bodies were in the plane, not one, and they were charred beyond the ability to test for DNA.

  More memories flood and I can’t believe I’m sobbing when Andy slides into the back seat next to me.

  “You knew Adrian that well?” Eyebrows go up in surprise as he hands me a handkerchief.

  I shake my head no, wipe my nose, and force the sobbing to stop so I can take a deep breath.

  Outside, the sun creeps higher into the sky, sweat drips down my back, and somewhere, a chick-a-dee laments with a chorus of cicadas.

  Andy’s warm hands clasp over mine. “Just know I’m here for you.”

  I nod, unable to explain why I’m crying because I have no idea. He reaches over the front seat and returns with cold coffee.

  “Drink.”

  I take a sip and grimace. Jack must’ve stopped some time during the night. The liquid was probably awful when it was hot. Now, it’s just plain disgusting. I wipe my eyes and glance into Andy’s smiling face. He knew it would knock the shock right out of me.

  I hold up his square of cotton cloth, wondering what kind of man still carries a handkerchief and he laughs when I try to give it back.

  “Keep it.” Dark eyes hold me in their gaze making me feel safe which is ridiculous considering my former brother-in-law’s body is just a few feet away.

  Still, I can’t help but ask. “You’ll help me? With the police?”

  “Don’t worry. I got this.” He pats my hands like I’m a little kid which makes me work harder to pull my shit together.

  I wad the cloth in my fist. “You know, up until that crash I did love that asshole.”

  “You don’t have to explain any-”

  “But I want to.” I take a deep breath. “After the police discovered one of the bodies in the plane was a woman, I was no longer a grieving newlywed, I was their prime suspect.”

  “I remember.” Andy chucks up on my chin forcing my eyes to his but I can’t linger so look away. It’s too embarrassing to be such a rube, a dupe.

  I play with the white square, AQ embroidered in the corner. “When the will was found, Peter’s family dug up a pre-nup with my signature but I swear to God, I never signed any such paperwork. That’s why I got jack shit when Peter died. Frankly, by then, I didn’t care. I figured I was lucky to be alive.”

  “Those bastards. I’ll help you get your share.”

  My chest constricts as I grip onto his arm. “God, no. I don’t want anything.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “You can’t tell a living soul.” Heart thumping, I look around the open field to make sure no one is listening.

  Andy cups my cheeks, holding my gaze. “We have attorney-client privileges, better than a confessional.”

  Even so, I lean into his ear and lower my voice to barely a whisper. “Okay. Peter Olafson was in deep with the Buonanno crime family. I mean he is in deep.”

  I give my lawyer credit. Other than a small tic at the right eye, we could be talking about the weather. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Early on in our marriage, when Peter wasn’t looking, I watched him open his safe. Inside, there’s a hard drive with names and dates.”

  “Where’s the drive, now?”

  Sirens sound in the distance and I shudder as he draws me into a warm hug. “Never mind. Say nothing more until I’m sitting right beside you. Understand?”

  Then, the whole Tuxedo Junction police force crashes into the clearing with sirens blaring. A couple men jump out of their squad cars with weapons drawn. Me and Andy step out of the jeep with our hands in the air. Jack and Dahlyla, who were sitting on a rock in the shade, put their arms up as well.

  My bodyguard slowly steps into the center of the field, eye to eye to a gray-haired cop whose feet are braced and pistol pointed.

  Using this real low, calm voice, Jack says, “I called nine-one-one. My weapon is in my holster in my vest. Private security. I work for CJ Quinn.”

  At the name of the famous football star, all the officer’s eyes go wide. Then, the older cop flicks his eyes to a younger one who quickly retrieves the weapon and sniffs.

  When he shakes his head, no, the older officer relaxes but still eyes Jack warily. “Where’s the body?”

  I can’t help but be a little pissed off at all the loaded guns and a lot scared so I shout, “Could you guys please lower your fucking weapons? This isn’t the OK Corral. Jesus, enough, already. We called in a murder, we didn’t commit one.”

  Andy rolls his eyes and Jack smirks while Dahlyla gives me a thumbs-up. I guess it did the trick because the half-dozen officers look to the older guy who nods for them to holster their weapons.

  Thank God.

  Jack clears his throat and all eyes shoot toward him. “We found a dead guy about a half mile in. I can take you there if you like.”

  He shares a knowing look with Andy then disappears into the woods with a few officers. Why didn’t he say he found Adrian Olafson?

  Three other grim-faced cops step forward through the long grass and pat us down.

  “I guess they’re just being cautious.” I say this because Andy looks like he’s about to kill someone. Apparently, one of us is not used to being treated like a criminal.

  “Remember what I said.” He didn’t need to remind me, I sure as hell won’t say a word.

  “Got it.”

  Just as he predicted, the police officers put us in separate vehicles and shortly, a female cop slips into the back seat beside me.

  “Your name?” She gets out a small wire-bound notepad with a pen.

  “Sienna Giles.” My voice shakes and no doubt, I appear guilty because her eyes glimmer, ready for the take down.

  She puts her face in mine, noses almost touching. “Why were you trespassing, Ms. Giles?”

  “I’m really sorry, but my lawyer has advised me not to speak to you without him present.”

  “Did you kill the man in the woods?”

  I remember this kind of interrogation when Peter died, and it gives me some satisfaction I’m not the same person I was back then.

  These officers are just doing their job and part of that is to intimidate criminals, get information, and solve crimes. However, my job is to shut the fuck up. Even to apologize for keeping quiet could be construed as an apology for murder.

  “My lawyer has advised me to wait until he can be present with me. He’s sitting right over there. You could get him if you like.” I’m trying to be helpful but the cop actually curses at me.

  “This is no game, Ms. Giles. It will go easier if you cooperate.”

  Sure, it will be way easier for you. You can just charge me for the murder of my brother-in-law.

  She leaves the backseat of the squad car and it’s hours before another soul slides in. Now this cop, he’s about forty and he gets so close I can inhale the cigarette smoke lingering in his lungs.

  Needing him to back off, I point to my chin. “You got some kind of crumb stuck in your beard, right here.”

  He wipes it away but the ploy works and there’s now a couple more inches between us. While he questions me, the humidity climbs to about ninety percent and thunder grumbles in the distance.

  I rub my palms into my eyes, wishing like hell I’d gone to bed instead of come here. Why do I always step in shit? Finally, the bearded officer gives up and motions me out into the heat where Andy is standing near Jack.

  Dahlyla is still in the back of one of the squad cars. She must be used to this kind of thing because not one hair is out of place as she refreshes her lipstick.

  “Unless you plan on arresting us, we’re done here.” Andy slips an arm around my waist as the medical examiner’s van pulls into the crowded field.

  The oldest cop, the one who pointed his gun at Jack, steps forward. “I have just one more question.” He glares my way. “Were those your mics in the trees, Miss Giles?”

  I look to Andy and he nods but even so,
I choose my words carefully. “That’s why we came here this morning. I’m working for Dr. Edelstein in Manhattan. She has a grant to study natural sounds and the effects on insomnia. Would you-”

  “Hold on. Are you saying you have the murder on tape?”

  “Tape?” I laugh at his old-fashioned term. He’s obviously not tech-savvy. “These days, audio streams live and it’s virtual, not tape. The files are way too large to save.”

  “So, do you, or do you not, have a recording?”

  I look to Andy and he nods grimly.

  “I don’t.” Okay, that was kind of a lie. My files are saved in the cloud.

  Andy’s mouth purses. Apparently lying to a cop investigating a murder is a bad idea but to be one-hundred percent accurate, I personally do not have a recording.

  My lawyer and the officer eye each other like two dogs at a hydrant until the older guy spits on the ground. “Come with me.”

  Then, I sit in the heat for hours while cops come and go, chat, eat, and basically ignore me in the back seat of a squad car.

  The sun is low in the sky by the time Andy opens my door, the officer in charge with him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d see to it she stays close to home, counselor. Just one more thing…”

  The cop directs his hazel eyes at me. “Where were you yesterday, Ms. Giles?”

  Panicked, I look to Andy. “It’s okay, luv, just tell him the truth.”

  “Well, let’s see. At first, I was in the hospital. Then, Andy brought me and Dahlyla to lunch. I went to rehearsal, then took a nap until I went to my gig in the evening.”

  “Any witnesses?” He glances up from his notebook.

  “Plenty, except for when I was asleep.”

  The cop grabs for handcuffs but Andy gives him a dangerous look and butts in. “We wouldn’t want to file for false arrest, such a waste of the taxpayer’s money and it never looks good. Tell you what, I’ll send you our sworn, signed statements.”

  The policeman ponders for a while, then gives a brief nod. “Don’t leave the city.”

  Then, he saunters away to talk with a white-haired gent in a matching lab coat standing next to a black body bag.