A Wicked Truth

by M. S. Parker

  His eyes jerked to mine, and I saw a cautious hope there. “You don't have to say it, Shae. I'm here even if you don't–”

  “I love you, Jasper.” I pushed myself up onto my knees, and looked down at him. “I can't say when it happened, only that at some point during this whole awful mess, you went from being my friend to my lover to the man I love.”

  I reached down and brushed some of his hair off of his forehead before lowering my hand to trace a finger across his lips. He was so beautiful it almost hurt.

  He caught my hand and pressed it to his mouth. “You don't know how long...how many times...” His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes, the struggle written on his face.

  It hadn't hit me until that moment what this must've been like for him. Not all the years he'd loved me in silence. Not him having to watch me marry Allen. I finally understood what these last few months must have been like for him. His best friend was dead, but the woman he'd loved for eight years was finally his. All this time, he'd been fighting his own guilt at having me, at being happy.

  “Jas, open your eyes.” I waited until he did before I continued, “You haven't betrayed Allen. Neither of us have. You never once treated me inappropriately when Allen was alive. You didn't take advantage of me after he died. And you didn't force me to fall in love with you. It's okay to be happy.”

  He stared at me for a moment, and then I felt the tension go out of him. He sat up suddenly, catching my mouth in a short, but searing kiss.

  “I love you,” he breathed the words against my lips.

  “And I love you.”

  His hand slid down to cup my breast, his fingers teasing my nipple as he nuzzled the side of my jaw. “Does that mean I can make love to you now?”

  “Nope.”

  He jerked back, a startled expression on his face.

  I grinned at him and pushed against his chest even as I threw one leg over him to straddle his lap. “I still have to show you just how sorry I am.”

  “Shae...” His hands went to my hips automatically.

  He hissed as I reached underneath me, and found him hard and ready. I used one hand on his stomach to balance me, and the other to hold him steady as I began to lower myself onto him. I gasped as he stretched me, the pressure of him filling me almost too much. I rocked back and forth, easing him inside at a torturous pace. I wanted this to last, wanted to stay joined to him as long as I could.

  I rode him slowly, enjoying every inch of him as I took him into me. His hands moved from my hips to my breasts, teasing my nipples with gentle touches and sharp tugs. Each time he tried to take control, I pushed him back. My mouth and hands explored the hard planes of his chest, nails scraping his nipples, lips and teeth sucking and biting at his skin until he swore.

  I pushed back my own orgasm over and over, refusing to let myself come until he did. This wasn't about me. He'd taken care of me so many times, always made sure I reached my own climax before he even thought about his. It wasn't until I felt his hips begin to jerk underneath me, his fingers grabbing onto my thighs, that I let myself go.

  My leg muscles were burning as I moved, but it only added to the intensity of what was building inside me. I moved my hand to the place where our bodies joined, and began to finger my clit as I squeezed my muscles around him.

  “Fuck!” He arched up off the bed, driving himself even deeper than before.

  Sparks flew in front of my eyes and the hand on his stomach curled, nails digging into his flesh. His cock pulsed inside me and I felt the warmth of his seed filling me. Calling out his name, I pressed my fingers against my clit and gave in to the climax that had been waiting.

  I fell forward, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly to him as we came. I pressed my face against his chest, shudders running through my body. I could hear him murmuring my name against my hair, but I was too far gone to answer. The physical and emotional toll of the past few days had taken me to the point where I was completely and utterly exhausted.

  I was also content. Sure, there were still more things to deal with, but he was here, and we'd face them together.

  Tomorrow.

  Because tonight, I was going to sleep in the arms of the man I loved.

  Chapter 6

  Jasper and I spent most of Sunday in bed, alternating between making love and talking. Some of what we talked about was the sort of sweet small talk that couples make while basking in the afterglow of particularly good sex. Stories from our pasts that we hadn't shared before. Things that my second graders had done. Difficulties Jasper was having with getting the clinic up and running.

  Some of what we discussed had to do with a future when all of this was over, but always done in the sort of abstract vagueness that kept it from being too serious. We loved each other, but I knew neither of us wanted to discuss anything intense today. So we stuck to the simple. Vacations it might be nice to take. Long-term plans for the vineyard and for the clinic. Some of the future plans were a bit more immediate, like the upcoming holidays.

  I'd been trying hard not to think about them, but Thanksgiving was this week, and no amount of denial would stop the ads on tv or the traditional hand-turkey art projects my students would insist on showing me. What would be the hardest about it was that because of his rocky relationship with his family, Jasper had always been a part of Allen and my holidays, so having him here for Thanksgiving would almost seem like normal...until I set three places at the table instead of four. And that was only if my brother decided he was going to come. He was still being weird about Jasper. It would ultimately be Mitchell's decision though, and I was able to let it stay at that.

  The one topic we avoided as long as we could was the whole legal situation. Finally, Sunday evening, as we soaked in the large tub in the master bathroom, I brought it up.

  I told Jasper everything that happened at the police station, all of the questions and accusations the cops had made, as well as the lie they'd told about my fingerprints. He agreed with me that the 'anonymous tip' had most likely come from the Lockwoods or someone connected to them. Since we had no way of proving it, we just had to trust that the evidence the cops did have would prove that I'd had nothing to do with Allen's death.

  The problem there was that the evidence now seemed stacked against Jasper. I knew it had to be only a matter of time before the detectives turned their attention from me to him. What we needed to do was find out where Allen's file had come from and the truth behind the email I'd found. Jasper assured me that if the cops pressed charges against him for lying to the insurance company, he was prepared to take the consequences. He was guilty of that part, after all. What he wasn't willing to do was be blamed for something he hadn't done. I didn't like the idea of him getting into any trouble, especially the kind that might take him away from me, but that was a worry for another day.

  We fell asleep at some point during a follow-up conversation, and by the time I woke the next morning, Jasper was already gone. On his pillow was a scrap of paper.

  Had to go to work early. See you at home tonight. Love you.

  I would've spent who knew how long staring at the note, grinning like an idiot, if I hadn't remembered that I had an appointment with my lawyer before school. Principal Sanders had been fine with me coming in late, but I didn't want to drag it out any longer than I had to. Better to get things with Henley taken care of quickly, and then I could concentrate on containing the overly excited second graders who would most definitely be worked up about the upcoming activities and holiday. I'd have my hands full.

  Henley was behind his desk, nursing an insanely-large cup of coffee, when I arrived. His secretary was still getting things settled at her desk, but she took the time to ask me if I wanted some coffee when it was ready.

  “No, thank you.” I gave her a tight smile. I'd probably end up running through somewhere to get something before I got to school, but too much caffeine and I'd be on edge, which was the last thing I needed.

  “Did you man
age to get any rest at all this weekend?” Henley asked as he gestured to the chair across from him.

  I nodded, my ears burning as I thought of what I'd done this weekend. I sincerely hoped he didn't notice my flushing. That was something I didn't want to explain.

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his stomach. “Okay, so I was able to spend the rest of Saturday and yesterday making some calls.”

  “Which I really appreciate,” I put in. “I'm so sorry you had to work on the weekend.”

  Henley waved a dismissive hand. “Allen took care of it.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Say that again?”

  “Oh.” Henley's face flushed with color. “Shit.” His skin went a darker shade of red. “I wasn't supposed to mention it. Sorry.”

  “Don't mention it.” My head was spinning. “Let's go back to the whole Allen taking care of it thing.”

  Henley gave me a partial smile. “Didn't you ever wonder why you haven't been getting any bills from me?”

  My jaw dropped and he chuckled.

  “I didn't think so,” Henley said. “Allen set up a separate trust for legal issues. With everything taken care of for increased rates, overtime, all of that, you'll be good for years. One stipulation was that when you needed me, I'd be there. No matter what time of day or night.”

  My throat tightened. Allen was still taking care of me, even now.

  “Mrs. Lockwood,” Henley began, and then hesitated.

  “Go ahead.” The fact that he'd switched back to the more formal title told me it was something more serious.

  “I know about the letter you gave to the police. The letter, the file, and the email.”

  My stomach knotted. Yet another reason I hadn't wanted anything to drink. “I'm surprised the detectives let you see them.”

  “They didn't.” Henley shifted in his chair. “The police department has a bit of a...well, a leak.”

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “You didn't go out at all this weekend, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Read the paper?”

  I shook my head again, blushing even deeper. Jasper and I hadn't bothered with much outside of the bedroom.

  “That's probably a good thing,” Henley said. “There's no easy way to say this, but the media's got ahold of the story.”

  I closed my eyes. I'd thought things couldn't have gotten worse, but, apparently, I was wrong. Again.

  “And they don't just know that you were arrested. They know about everything you gave to the cops too.”

  I let out a string of curses that I normally wouldn't have uttered in private, let alone in front of someone else.

  “What do we do?” I asked, raising my head.

  “First, I need you to tell me everything. Where you found the file, the email, the letter.” He paused, and then continued, “And if there's anything else you think I should know.”

  I nodded and then began to explain everything, starting with the letter, and what Jasper had told me about his role in hiding Allen's illness. Henley listened, occasionally jotting things down. He never interrupted, never made any indication of what he thought about anything I said.

  I didn't ask him for his opinion either. I didn't want to know what he thought about Allen's suicide, or Jasper fudging the paperwork for the insurance company. All I cared about was that he didn't think I'd killed my husband.

  When I finished, I slumped back in the chair, my head pounding. It had been harder than I'd thought to explain everything.

  He was quiet for a moment, writing something else on his notepad, and then he looked up at me. “Is there anything else?”

  “No.” I rubbed my hand over my face. How could I be so tired this early in the morning? “That's it.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and tapped the pen on his desk. “There are a couple other things we need to cover before you go.” His mouth twisted like he'd tasted something sour. “The Lockwoods have talked to some reporters.”

  Shit.

  I didn't curse out loud this time, but the situation certainly merited it.

  “What are they saying?” I asked with a sigh.

  “Aside from everything I'm sure you can imagine they're saying regarding your marriage,” he answered. “They're also saying you're trying to have them framed for arson so you can avoid the court ruling against you regarding Allen's trust.”

  I didn't feel anything about the latest lies. No hurt. No anger. It seemed like I was finally beyond all of those things when it came to the Lockwoods. The realization surprised me. I'd spent so many years caring about what they thought of me that knowing I didn't care anymore was a new feeling in and of itself.

  “Obviously, it's all them running their mouths,” he said. “But I have a feeling the cops are going to try to use the accusations against you.”

  “Against me how?” I asked, feeling my stomach knot in concern.

  “They want you to come in and answer some more questions.” He scowled. “Detective Reed called me yesterday evening.”

  “What more can they ask me?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I was there for hours. I told them what happened forwards, backwards and sideways.”

  “And now they're going to ask you everything again.” Henley leaned forward and pressed his fingers together. “Probably a little less politely.”

  “They could be less polite than that?” I asked dryly.

  “They could.” His lips twitched. “And they will. They're going to keep at you, insult you, insinuate horrible things about you.”

  “More horrible than saying I killed my husband?” I reached for my purse and pulled out a small bottle of medicine. I popped two pills into my mouth and dry swallowed them.

  “Until they figure out what happened, they're going to keep looking,” he said.

  “Unless they're so focused on me that they can't see anyone else,” I countered. “That they can't see the truth.” I sighed. “What do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should go in voluntarily,” he said. “Answer their questions. Don't give them any reason to say that you're not cooperating.”

  “Does it mean anything that the arrest was voided?” I asked.

  He frowned and took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, no.” He scratched his head. “Just because I had a judge who agreed that they didn't have enough evidence to justify an arrest doesn't mean they're going to let things go. They can still put things together and get some judge who thinks things look different. That's why you have to put it all out there. No surprises.”

  I sighed again, something I seemed to be doing a lot of today. “When do they want me to come in?”

  “The sooner, the better,” he said. “The longer you put it off, the more suspicious it makes you look.”

  “All right.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I'll go in after school.”

  “I'll meet you there.”

  I shook my head. “If I'm just telling the truth, I don't need a lawyer there, right? Doesn't having you with me make me look guilty?”

  “Most criminal attorneys would advise you not to say anything without them,” Henley said. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “But Allen told me that it would be pointless for me to argue with you if something ever came up. He said you were stubborn.”

  I smiled despite the pounding in my head. Yes, I thought. Yes, I was.

  Chapter 7

  Being stubborn did not magically solve all of my problems.

  Not that I'd ever thought it would. Generally, my inability to give in on a lot of things caused more problems than it solved. In this case, however, I'd hoped that it would help. If I kept my temper and continued to repeat the same information over and over, eventually Detectives Reed and Rheingard would believe me. Everyone knew that one of the reasons cops asked things dozens of different ways and hundreds of times was to try to trip up a suspect. Lies were always harder to remember than the truth, and since I wasn't lying, my story wasn't going to change. It
was just a matter of out-lasting the interrogation without letting them get to me.

  This strategy didn't, however, help me when I walked into the school and found a note on my desk.

  Please come to my office when you arrive. - Principal Sanders

  I glanced at the clock. I still had a half hour before my students were due back so I left my purse and bag in my chair and headed down to the principal's office. Growing up, I'd never been the kind of kid who got in trouble often. Or ever, really. Mitchell had been the one who'd done stupid stuff. Got caught smoking behind the gym. Cut class. I'd nearly cried the one time my teacher thought I'd passed a note in class.

  I had that same feeling of dread in my stomach now as I walked down the hallway. I could hear the other teachers in their classrooms, the murmur of students answering questions, laughing at something someone said. All of it was muted, distant. The clicking of my heels on the tile was louder, echoing in my ears.

  I didn't remember the office being so far from my classroom, but it felt like it took me years to get there. Years during which I thought about how I was going to have to apologize for having to come in late again, how I'd have to make sure that it never happened again.

  I'd known that I was on borrowed time when it came to how understanding everyone was being, particularly at work. Principal Sanders had offered me as much time off as I needed at the beginning of the school year and had even said he'd be willing for me to work part time if I'd needed to. I hadn't taken him up on his offer, but there had been a couple times since then that I'd called off. I hadn't thought it was a big deal at the time, but now it seemed like it had bothered Principal Sanders more than he let on.

  “Shae.” He met me at the door of his office, a plastic smile on his face.

  That caught me more off-guard than the note had. I'd never been close to Principal Sanders, but more because he and I didn't really have anything in common than any actual animosity. We'd always gotten along well enough though. He was my boss, not my friend, but he'd always been polite, warm even.

  All of that was gone now. He wasn't being rude, but it was clear from how he carried himself that something was wrong, and that something was me. His back was stiff, his expression stony. He didn't offer me a chair, or ask me to sit, though he did close the door behind us.