A Wicked Truth

by M. S. Parker

  “I think your line of questioning is inappropriate.” I could feel tears burning against my eyelids, but I refused to cry. Not here. Not in front of them. “Do you think I want to believe my husband killed himself? That he chose to leave me, and to do it in such a horrible, vicious way right in front of me?” I leaned forward. “I don't care what you think you know, or what evidence you think you have, because it's never going to prove I killed my husband because I didn't do it. You could have a hundred of my fingerprints all over that pack and it still wouldn't mean that I'd done–”

  I stopped suddenly when I saw Reed's eyes shift. It was small, but he'd clearly looked away. Then I remembered something I'd learned from watching one of those cop shows Allen always loved.

  Police were allowed to lie to a suspect.

  “There aren't any fingerprints, are there?” I asked softly. “Not mine anyway. You were trying to get me to incriminate myself or change my story.” I shook my head, giving them both a disgusted look. “Well, it might've worked. If I'd lied at any point, or if I'd actually done something wrong. But I'm innocent, so there wasn't a lie to catch me in.”

  Reed and Rheingard exchanged glances, and I knew I was right.

  “What will it take for the two of you to believe me?” I asked suddenly. “A written confession from my dead husband?” I gestured towards the papers in front of Detective Reed. “Oh, wait, you already have that.”

  “What we have is a letter you could've written yourself,” Reed said. “Especially when we have a source who says that you sabotaged Allen's chute, and that you'd do anything to keep us from uncovering the truth, even making up false evidence.”

  “A source.” I pressed my fingers against the top of the table. “Which Lockwood is it? May? Gregory? Or is it Marcus? Maybe they decided to get Alice in on the action? None of them like me and they have everything to gain if I go to jail.”

  “It's called an anonymous source for a reason,” Reed snapped back.

  “Faris!” Rheingard's voice was sharp and he glared at his partner.

  Apparently, sharing that bit of information with me hadn't been a part of their strategy.

  “Is this anonymous source going to testify in court that they saw something I didn't do? In front of a jury. Under oath.” I looked from Reed to Rheingard and back again. “I think you know exactly who this person is, but it doesn't matter if you do or not. We all know that they're not going to come forward, because they didn't see anything, and they're not going to risk going to jail for perjury. The reason they didn't see anything is because there was nothing to see.”

  If this was an ordinary case, they never would've been allowed to arrest me on the uncorroborated word of an anonymous source and I would've walked out of there as soon as I delivered my little speech. But this wasn't a normal case because the Lockwoods had a long reach, and Allen had been well-known and well-liked.

  I also thought Detective Reed was just a dick.

  I didn't walk out after my speech. No higher-up in the department came in and told the detectives that they'd gotten it wrong and that they had to let me go. Instead, I went over my story again. And again. At one point, I was pretty sure they had me tell it backwards. No matter which way they came at me, my replies stayed the same because I was telling the truth. They just didn't want to accept it.

  I lost track of how long I'd been there. Without windows or my phone, it was impossible for me to know how much time had passed, only that it began to feel like I'd been in that tiny room forever. I knew that couldn't be true since, legally, they had to put me in front of a judge within twenty-four hours of my arrest, and since it was a Saturday, they were going to have to do it soon. The knowledge didn't help the time move any differently though.

  I considered asking to use the bathroom, just to get a bit of a change of scenery, but I knew that the detectives – and anyone who happened to be on the other side of that two-way glass – were watching my every move. They'd look at how I crossed my legs, my arms. How I held my head and when I blinked. When I hesitated. How much I drank, when I drank.

  At one point, I thought it might be a good idea to ask for a lawyer just to try to get things to move along a bit faster, but I knew as soon as I did that, they'd assume I was guilty. Not having one and continuing to answer their questions with the same information over and over was my best defense.

  After what I assumed was at least a couple of hours, the door to the interrogation room opened and a sour-faced older man stepped inside.

  “Mrs. Lockwood's lawyer is here.”

  I opened my mouth to say that I hadn't requested a lawyer, but then Savill Henley walked past the older cop and came to my side. I had no idea how he'd found out about the arrest, but I couldn't deny that I was relieved to see him, if for no other reason than I was glad to have someone there who didn't think I was a murderer.

  “Mrs. Lockwood is done answering your questions. If you want to speak with her again, call me.” He glared at the detectives.

  Savill Henley was in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and the large build of a once-muscular man who was starting to go to seed. He was also a corporate attorney who dealt with business matters and had taken care of Allen's will and things like that. He wasn't a criminal lawyer, but he'd been there for me through the Lockwoods' attempts to take my home, and had dealt with the Aime Vargas situation. A murder charge would definitely be out of his depth, but he wasn't showing even the slightest indication that he didn't know exactly what he was doing.

  “Your client is under arrest for murder.” Detective Reed stood.

  He was probably used to intimidating people with his badge and the fact that his stocky build looked quite solid, but Henley towered over the younger man by more than a few inches, and intimidation was a bit tougher when you had to look up at the other person.

  “Not anymore.” The sour-faced man spoke up from the doorway. “It seems that Judge Hanson felt that she'd been deceived regarding the evidence the ADA said he had against Mrs. Lockwood.”

  Detective Reed shifted in his seat.

  “The judge is looking in to whether or not it was a misunderstanding or deliberate misrepresentation of facts on the part of ADA Kline.”

  I glanced at the detectives and Reed's ears were turning red. I hoped they'd do a thorough investigation, because I had a feeling my arrest hadn't been a mistake on the part of the assistant district attorney or the judge. It wouldn't have surprised me if Detective Reed had pulled that same “fingerprints on the parachute” lie to get an arrest warrant signed. I wasn't sure how much Rheingard had been in on it though. Either he was innocent, or was just much better at concealing his thoughts. It didn't really matter to me. All I cared about was that this was over.

  “Mrs. Lockwood's arrest warrant has been voided,” the sour-faced man continued. “She's free to go.”

  “Lieutenant,” Reed protested.

  “Watch it, Detective,” the lieutenant snapped. “I want to see you and your partner in the captain's office. Now.”

  “Before you go,” Henley said. He tossed three separate, folded sheets of paper. “One is a copy of my request for a third, neutral party to be called in to investigate the authenticity of the documents Mrs. Lockwood brought in. The other two are suits – one civil and one legal – against your department for your treatment of my client. Detectives Reed and Rheingard are specifically named.”

  “You can't do that!” Reed spluttered. “We're just doing our job!”

  Henley leveled a contemptuous gaze at the detective. “I suppose that will be determined after the judge takes a look at the evidence you used to secure an arrest warrant for my client.”

  With the way Reed's face was coloring, I certainly hoped he didn't have a heart condition. The last thing I needed was for him to have a heart attack and try to blame that on me too.

  “You're free to go, Mrs. Lockwood.” The lieutenant didn't even look at me as I stood.

  My knees popped and my legs were sti
ff as I walked past the detectives and out the door. I kept my head up as I walked out into the station, determined that no one would see how completely humiliated and upset I was about what happened. I wasn't about to give anyone the satisfaction.

  My steps faltered only once, and it was when I was halfway through the station and saw who was waiting at the doors. I caught myself though and managed to walk right past Jasper without a word or a look in his direction.

  Chapter 3

  I didn't stop until I was outside in front of the courthouse. It was warm for this time of year, pushing the high sixties, and the people of St. Helena were out and about, enjoying the sunny afternoon. If I hadn't just come out of several hours of being accused of murdering my husband, I probably would've been just as enamored with the weather as everyone else. At the moment, it was little more than a distraction.

  “Shae,” Henley came up behind me.

  “How'd you know to come?” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it.

  “Jasper called me,” Henley admitted. “He said the two of you had a fight yesterday and he left. He came back this morning, saw that you and that medical file were gone. He called a friend at the county clerk's office who told him about the arrest warrant, and then he called me.”

  “Figures,” I muttered. I closed my eyes and ran my hand over my face. “Did he tell you what we fought about?”

  “No, but I'm guessing it had something to do with those files you gave to the police.”

  I nodded.

  “I don't want to discuss them now,” Henley said. “Everything was so rushed, and since this isn't exactly my forte, I need some time to look things over.”

  “I thought you said the judge invalidated the arrest warrant?” I couldn't keep the frustration out of my voice.

  “Yes, but that doesn't mean the case goes away.” Henley squinted up into the sun. “Why don't you come into my office on Monday morning and we'll go over everything. Can you go in to work late?”

  “The art teacher has the elementary kids working on a project for Thanksgiving, so she'll have them for the first part of the morning.” I made a silent note to thank Gina. I could arrange things much easier with Principal Sanders this way.

  “I'll see you first thing then.” Henley paused, and then added, “We'll get through this, Shae.”

  He gave me an awkward pat on the shoulder and then walked away. I felt bad for him having to get involved in all of this, especially since this wasn't the kind of law he generally practiced. He'd been so good to me over the last couple months, helping me deal with the will, the surprise insurance policy. He'd taken meetings with the Lockwoods and their lawyers where they basically treated him like he didn't know his ass from his elbow – as my mother had been fond of saying. Then he'd gotten involved in the whole paternity suit, and had not only managed to get it thrown out, he'd helped out the real biological father in getting things started to have custody taken away from Aime Vargas as well as getting criminal charges filed against her for extortion. He'd gone above and beyond, and now I was asking him to do it again.

  If this thing didn't go away, I needed to make sure that he was comfortable proceeding alone. If he felt the need, I wanted him to know he could have me hire a criminal attorney to work with him. I just didn't want him to completely put the case aside. I was having serious trust issues, and he was pretty much the only person I felt comfortable having handle something this important.

  “Shae!”

  Speaking of trust issues...

  My entire body tensed at the sound of Jasper's voice. I was tempted to run away. Well, not literally, but at least walk away at a brisk pace, pretending I hadn't heard him. My car was in a side lot at the back, so I knew there was a chance I could get to it before Jasper reached me, but if he decided he didn't care about running, there was no way I could make it. I was torn between my pride keeping me from sprinting for my car and having to face Jasper. To make things worse, there was a part of me deep inside that wanted to wait, wanted to talk to him. I missed him, especially after what just happened. He'd been there for me through everything else, and my natural instinct was to turn to him. But a larger part of me wished he didn’t exist.

  I was saved from having to make a decision when he was suddenly there, his hand closing around my wrist, holding me in place as he stepped around me so we were face-to-face, his muscular body blocking me from going around him. I could go backwards – I knew he'd release my wrist if I pulled away – or I could step out into the street, but those were my only two options for escape. The only other thing I could do was stand there and hear what he had to say.

  “We need to talk.” His voice was firm, but not angry.

  “I'm not really in the mood.” I kept my eyes straight ahead, which might have been a good way to keep myself from getting distracted...if it hadn't meant I was staring at his chest. He wasn't wearing anything particularly tight or sexy, but even his simple flannel shirt couldn't stop me from remembering his firm muscles and the light dusting of dark hair on his chest, how it all felt under my hands, against my cheek.

  “Look at me.” His tone softened. “Please, Shae.”

  I didn't want to, but I found myself unable to resist. I raised my head slowly until I was looking straight into his clear gray eyes. My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to pound. It didn't matter how angry I was at him. I still wanted him.

  “Talk to me.”

  I pulled my arm back, and he let my wrist go. My skin was warm and tingling where he touched me, and I had to resist the urge to rub it.

  “I think we've talked enough.” I kept my face up, but my eyes slid away so I didn't have to see that earnest gaze.

  “We didn't talk, Shae. You yelled and told me to get out.”

  I crossed my arms and took a step back, needing to put some space between us. I could smell him, his spicy aftershave, the detergent we both used. And him. That scent that was just him, that could turn my stomach inside-out. That told me he was mine.

  “Look, I don't even care that you read that file. I believe you that you didn't look at anyone else's. None of that is the point.”

  “Then what is the point, Jasper?” I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. “Because I've had a very long morning answering questions about things I'd rather not think about. I just want to go home and try to forget all about this miserable weekend.”

  “I want you to listen to me.” Frustration tinged his words. “I want us to find out the truth about what happened. The two of us. Together. We're stronger together.”

  He was right about that, at least for me. I was stronger when I was with him. But I couldn't be with him, no matter what I wanted.

  “I gave the file to the cops. Along with the email you sent and Allen's letter.”

  “Dammit, Shae! I didn't send an email to Allen. Not like the one you're talking about. And I don't know what the hell was in that file, but it wasn't mine. I want to find out what's going on, but I need you to believe me.”

  I wanted nothing more than to tell him that I believed him, to ask him to take me home, and curl up in his arms and spend the rest of the weekend there.

  But I couldn't. I didn't truly know who I could trust or what to believe. I'd trusted Allen for most of my adult life, and then I discovered that he'd lied to me about being sick. That he'd committed suicide. And I knew Jasper had lied at least about being involved in that deception because he'd admitted it. Part of me thought the fact that he'd admitted the first lie meant that I should believe him when he said he was telling the truth now. But I couldn't help remembering the other thing he'd kept from me.

  For eight years.

  I couldn't let myself think about that. It was too much.

  This was all too much.

  “I can't do that.” I shook my head. “Please, just let me go.”

  “Shae,” he started to protest.

  I pushed his shoulder and felt him start in surprise. Then he stepp
ed back, giving me a clear path. I didn't look at him as I hurried past, and I made sure I didn't touch him. If I touched him, it would all be over. One gesture like that, and I'd be completely undone. I needed to be away from him.

  I wanted to look back at him, but I resisted. I kept my eyes on my car and didn't let myself go until I was safe inside. I put my forehead against the steering wheel and closed my eyes. I felt so drained. My muscles were limp, emotions wrung out. I didn't even have the strength to cry. I was tired. So tired. I just wanted to go home, and go to sleep. Sleep and forget about everything other than a few hours of blissful ignorance.

  Chapter 4

  The room was dark, but I could feel him there. I could always feel him. In my mind's eye, he was as clear as he'd ever been. Thick tawny hair, sparkling hazel eyes. He had a strong jaw, a lean build. I could feel his muscles beneath my fingers, smell the minty mouthwash he always used.

  Allen had been my first lover. He'd taught me all of the different ways my body could bring me pleasure. He'd shown me how to make love, how to fuck. The difference between the two.

  His hand slid up my side, fingers dancing along my bare skin. I ran my fingers through his hair as his mouth made a trail across my collarbone, and then down between my breasts. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses on my flesh, then closed his lips around a nipple. I moaned, back arching as he gently sucked on the sensitive flesh. It tightened and he flicked his tongue across the tip.

  “I miss you so much,” I whispered as he moved his free hand down between my legs.

  I closed my eyes, letting myself feel his touch, feel his body. I had missed him. His finger slid into me, stroking my walls. The pull of his mouth went straight through me, making my core pulse with desire. I felt the pressure growing inside me, and knew he could make me come just like this, from only his finger and his mouth.