by SJ Bishop
Her hand reached out to stroke my chest, and something inside me snapped. I jerked away from her like she'd just bitten me. She rose from the chair and walked calmly to the couch but didn't sit down. We stood on opposite sides of the room, panting.
"I can't," was all I said. "How do I know you're not using me? That you didn't come here tonight to do whatever it took to... make sure I keep my mouth shut?"
The look on her face said it all. Fury, sadness, regret... all of it showed in her eyes. "I would never..." she gasped, too appalled by my accusation to speak. "And if that's how you want to be, then how do I know that you didn't kill Penny? Just like Anderson says you did?"
It was hard wanting someone I was so angry at.
"Give me until tomorrow," she finally said. "Give me a name. Who do you think is the one person who has the most to benefit from your being in jail? The one person who hates you the most?"
"Easy," I told her. "Mason Taylor."
"Fine. Tomorrow, I'll question him. Let me see what I can find out. If nothing turns up, I'll tell Anderson that I was with you the night of Penny's murder."
"You will?" I asked, wanting to believe her.
"Yes. You have my word."
I expelled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Fine. Until tomorrow."
20
Treena
I stood with my mouth hanging open, wishing I'd never come down to talk to Mason.
"Can you say that again?" I asked him. I was acutely aware of the smell of testosterone hanging in the air. I supposed that was typical of football locker rooms.
"The day that Jax killed Penny—"
"Allegedly killed."
"Whatever. The day she was shot, I heard Jax on the phone with her. He threatened her. Said he'd kill her if she threw some of his old junk out."
"What old junk?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, you seem to have heard everything else."
"He was standing two feet away from me. It's not like I was eavesdropping."
"Why didn't you share this information with the police before?"
Mason shrugged. "I didn't think of it until just now."
I sighed. I wanted to believe that Mason was lying, but something in my gut told me he was telling the truth. I'd learned a long time ago to trust that gut.
"Alright, thank you, Mr. Taylor. I appreciate your time."
"So, are you gonna arrest him now?" Mason called after me as I turned to go.
Christ, the guy was a moron. "We already arrested him, Mr. Taylor."
"Then why isn't he in jail?"
"He's out on bail. I'm pretty sure that if you open a newspaper or look online, you can find this information."
Mason eye-rolled me. It pissed me off. I stood there seriously thinking about what it would feel like to draw my gun and scare the piss out of him. Literally. I wondered if that would score me some brownie points with Jax. I thought it probably would. After last night, I needed them. It made me furious to think that he might actually believe I'd only kissed him last night to get him to keep his mouth shut. That couldn't have been further from the truth. I almost wished it had been true. That would mean Jax meant nothing to me. It would make it easier for me to forget him, but try as I might, I couldn't get him out of my head. The kiss last night had only clarified for me that I wanted Jax as much now as I ever had.
"If you remember anything else," I told Mason, "you have my number." Just then, Emily came stomping into the locker room followed by two other officers. She looked surprised to see me.
"There you are," she said. "I've been trying to call you."
I looked at my phone, but it showed no missed calls. "I must not be getting good reception in here," I told her. "What's up?"
"A new tip came in."
"Not another one about Goldilocks and the Three Bears? Did they hide the gun in the porridge this time?" Since the story of the murder broke, we'd been getting calls left and right from people either wanting to confess to the crime or give us a tip. They were all fake. Crazed people starved for attention.
"This one's legit," Emily said. "At least, we think so."
"What is it?" I asked, curious. She was walking down the row of lockers closest to the back wall. She paused when she got to number 105. She opened it and peeked inside.
"It's his alright." Instead of going through it, though, she walked behind it. There was a vent in the wall. Emily reached out and tapped the screws.
"We checked all the vents," I told her. But she ignored me. One of the screws fell right into her palm. The others were loose enough that they spun easily with her fingers. The grate to the vent came off and fell to the ground with a clank.
Mason stood by, watching us with interest. I wanted to tell him to get lost, but I had a feeling it was already too late. He'd seen too much and would be spreading the word.
"Glove!" Emily shouted, raising her arm like a grade schooler. One of the officers handed her a glove, which she pulled over her right hand. She stuck it into the vent and when she withdrew it, she was holding a gun.
"Voila!" she cried triumphantly. "One murder weapon, coming right up!"
21
Jax
I stared at the bottle on the coffee table in front of me, wishing I'd never bought it. The fact that I'd bought it yesterday and hadn't opened it yet was a feat in and of itself. By anyone's standards, I was under an extraordinary amount of stress.
"I'm not opening you," I told it, fighting the urge.
The vodka bottle laughed. Give it more time, it taunted.
I licked my lips and took a deep breath. I would not let the alcohol take over my life. Not now, not ever again. I'd sworn to myself that I was through with that shit, and I'd meant it. But then again, when I'd made that promise to myself Penny had still been alive, I hadn't been indicted for murder, and my football career still had promise. None of that was true anymore.
To top it all off, there was Treena.
It had been two weeks since I'd last spoken to her, the day she'd found the murder weapon. I still didn't understand how fibers from my shirt had been found on the gun, but no fingerprints had. I mean, of course there were no fingerprints, it wasn't my gun, but the fibers? How had those gotten there? And the look in Treena's eyes when she'd told me they matched my blood-soaked jersey... I'd never forget that look. In that moment, I knew I'd lost her.
I picked the vodka bottle up and held it in my hands, a familiar friend that had been tucked away for what felt like centuries. In reality, I was six weeks away from getting my one-year sobriety coin. My doorbell rang, and I looked toward it with irritation.
"Jax, it's me!" Caden. Shit.
I jumped out of my chair like he could see me through the walls and searched the room for a hiding place. I finally decided on a four-foot tall fake house plant I had standing in the corner. There was no reason for Caden to look behind it. I opened the door and grinned at Caden to show him I was alright. He smiled and clapped me on the back.
"Hey, man," he said, stepping inside my house and pulling me into a half-hug. "How's it going?" He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it over the back of a chair. A cool breeze swept inside before I could shut the door, and I knew that autumn was officially here.
"Fine," I told him. He eyed me skeptically.
"Really?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow at me. "Fine?"
I nodded, wondering why I was lying to him. I guess I was just tired of people asking me how I was doing all the time. My lawyer, Caden, Coach Allen... they all kept checking in with me like I was a sick patient. It was getting old.
"Well," Caden said, taking a seat, "that's good to hear. I was worried Treena might still be on your mind."
I'd filled him in on me and Treena. It was driving me crazy not being able to talk to her, or to anyone about her. I'd had to tell someone about what had happened between us that night, and Caden was the logical choice. He already knew everything else about me. It was actually one of the great things ab
out being in AA. Everyone in the program had fucked up their lives in some way, so there was no judgment. Even when I'd seen that flash of doubt in Caden's eyes the day I'd posted bail, I don't think it had been judgment that I'd seen, only... confusion. And thankfully, I hadn't seen that look from Caden since. If he'd had any doubts about my innocence, he must have either set them aside or come to terms with them.
"I still think you need to tell Detective Anderson you were with her that night," Caden said, and I sighed.
"I know. You've made that abundantly clear."
"I just don't get why you're even hesitating. If I were you—"
"Well, you're not me," I snapped.
We stared at each other. I could feel my blood rising. It was easy to set me off lately. "Look," Caden finally said, "I told you I'd support whatever decisions you make, and I will. But I have to wonder whether you're holding off on this Treena thing for her sake or yours."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not getting where he was going with this.
"It seems to me like you're hoping if you keep quiet, you'll get her back. But that's fucked up. That's like... bribery or extortion or something. You can't gamble with your life like that."
"That's not it at all," I said, but I couldn't quite bring my eyes to meet Caden's.
"I hope not," he said. "Because if she is really as stand up of a girl as you say she is, then she'd speak up for you."
"It would ruin her career."
"Fuck her career, Jax. This is your goddam life we're talking about!" He rose from his chair. I could see the veins bulging in his neck.
Suddenly, I stood up and grabbed a vase off the mantle. I flung it across the room where it smashed against the wall and shattered into a thousand pieces. It felt good. I grabbed a picture off the wall that I'd never particularly liked and smashed it over my knee. There was a dirty dish I'd left sitting out. I grabbed it off the table, throwing it to the floor. It shattered, spraying me and Caden with minuscule pieces of porcelain.
I was gonna have one hell of a time cleaning this up later, but right now it was worth it. I hadn't realized how much I needed to blow off some steam. I started grabbing anything that wasn't tied down. Books, vases, anything, and smashing the hell out of them. When I had finally spent myself, I turned to Caden, out of breath. His face was pale. He was staring past me. I turned to where he was looking and saw the fake plant I'd hidden my vodka behind. During my outburst, I must have knocked it over. The bottle stood there, showing itself off. It was laughing at me again.
Fuck.
"Caden," I said, "it's not what you think."
"When did you start drinking again?" he asked.
I shook my head. "I haven't. The bottle's not open."
He scoffed and walked over to it, picking it up and examining it. "That doesn't mean anything," he said. "How many other bottles do you have hidden around here?"
"None," I said, anger still boiling inside me. Though I wasn't quite sure who I was angry at anymore—me, Caden, or Treena? "Would you just listen to me? I haven't had a drink. I just... I thought about it. That's all."
"I can't help you if you're not honest with me."
"I'm being fucking honest, Caden. I'm not drinking! Everything's fine! I'm in control."
"Yeah, I can see how in control you are," he said, indicating the wreck I'd created.
"Fuck you, Caden!"
"Fuck you, Jax!"
Before I could think about it, I launched myself at him. My fist collided with his jaw before I even realized that I'd swung it. Caden fell back against the wall, his lip bleeding. I raised my hand to punch him again but Caden just stood there, ready to take it. I hesitated. I could see him fighting his desire to punch me back. Instead of hitting me, he brushed himself off and walked toward the door.
What the fuck did I just do?
Caden wasn't just my sponsor. He was my best friend. The only friend I had lately.
"Caden..." I said.
"When you're done skulking down here at rock bottom, give me a call," he said and left me alone in the mess that was my new life.
22
Treena
"Say that last part again," I told Emily. She'd been hovering at my desk for the last five minutes, filling me in on the details of Penny Ryder's autopsy. The coroner had finally released the full findings.
"Penny Ryder was two months pregnant," Emily repeated.
My jaw dropped open as my mind tried to comprehend this new information. "Is the coroner sure?" I asked. She looked at me like I'd just asked her what color orange juice was.
"Yeah," she spat. "I think he's pretty sure. Unless you think you can do his job better than he can, I'd accept his verdict on this one." She bit her lip, trying to stifle whatever other snide comment was forming at the back of her throat. The buddy-buddy relationship we'd briefly enjoyed my first couple of days here was gone. We weren't enemies, but we weren't exactly friends now either. When it came down to it, we just didn't trust each other. She was fucking Anderson, who continued to watch me like a hawk. And I was pretty sure she still suspected that I'd fucked Jax.
The only thing that kept Emily from spilling the beans on me was that she had no concrete proof. Also, despite the tension between us, we were the only two women in homicide. Which meant we still shared a bond, no matter how thin. I wished I'd felt as passionately about working in the records or traffic divisions as I did homicide. Those were swamped with women. Apparently the police force didn’t have a problem with women doing paperwork, it was just when we went out into the community or worked to solve a crime that feathers were ruffled.
"Anything else?" I asked Emily.
She nodded. "They narrowed the time of death. The coroner is placing it between two and four in the morning."
My brain went into overdrive. Two to four? That meant I was off the hook. I didn't have to say anything to anyone. My alibi was useless to Jax now. A wave of relief washed over me, followed by an almost bigger wave of guilt. Am I really doing the right thing by not saying anything? If there was nothing wrong with keeping the relationship I had with Jax a secret, then why did I feel so guilty? Maybe it was because doing what was right for me meant fucking Jax over. But there was nothing I could do! The time of death meant I was useless as an alibi. Just keep telling yourself that, Treena. Maybe one day soon, you'll believe it.
I sighed. The last time I'd seen Jax was when I'd gone by his place to tell him we'd found the murder weapon. He'd pretty much thrown me out of his house when I told him I couldn't tell Anderson or my captain anything about our relationship.
"You promised!" he shouted. "You swore to me that you'd 'fess up after talking to Mason!"
"Jax, I could never have anticipated that we'd find the murder weapon AND link it back to you! The fact is you need me now more than ever. You need someone on the inside to make sure your case is handled properly. To keep you informed. I promise you, when the coroner's report comes back and shows Penny's time of death between midnight and two, I'll tell Anderson and Captain Murphy everything."
"What if the report doesn't come back in my favor?" he'd asked.
"It will," I’d said, biting my lip.
"What if it doesn't, Treena?"
I exhaled. "Then my testimony wouldn't help you anyway."
He'd told me to get the hell out. I didn't exactly blame him.
Frankly, I was surprised he hadn't ratted me out to his lawyer. I'd gone into work every day for the last two weeks expecting Anderson to call me into his office and fire me. Then what would I do? What would Jax do? The evidence against him kept mounting. I was the only one who seemed open to the possibility that he was innocent, and even I wasn't a hundred percent sure, though it killed me to admit it. At least I was still trying to find other suspects. Anderson had all but given up. This new development with Penny's pregnancy would only make things worse.
Anderson came striding up to my desk. He stopped next to Emily, a big smile on his face. "Did Emily tell you the news?" he asked, h
is voice surprisingly light. Normally he sounded like he was stuck in deep, dark well.
"She was just filling me in," I told him.
"We've got Ryder now. That's for sure."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"This gives us motive," Anderson said.
"I thought you already had motive," I said. Since the investigation had started, he'd been saying that Jax killed Penny because of the divorce. He didn't want to pay her anything. Though I'd hated to admit it, it sounded like a rather strong motive to me.
"Yeah, but his defense attorney was gonna tear that to shreds. Their divorce had been going on for months. Why would Ryder wait until after it was finalized to kill her?" Anderson asked. "He could've killed her at any time."
I was surprised to hear Anderson talk about Jax in what was almost an objective manner. He was actually making sense. My feelings about Jax kept bouncing back and forth. I couldn't seem to get them sorted out. One minute, I was certain of Jax's innocence; the next, I was certain of his guilt.
"When we match his DNA to Penny's baby, we'll have an established motive for his killing her that even Geoffrey Stevens won't be able to shake."
"You think Jax killed Penny because he knocked her up?" Emily asked, sounding doubtful. Anderson shot daggers at her with his eyes. It was the first time I'd seen him look so angry at her. It surprised me. Normally he seemed totally gaga whenever she was around.
"If Ryder got his ex-wife pregnant," Anderson said in short, clipped tones, "he would have had to pay her child support. And he'd be tied to her forever. He could kiss the clean break-up he was after goodbye."
I wasn't at all sure there was anything remotely "clean" about Jax and Penny's break-up, but I held my tongue.
"What makes you so sure Jax is the father?" Emily asked, her eyes flashing with defiance. I felt as if there was some unspoken argument happening between them that I wasn't quite following. Why was Emily goading him on like this? She thought Jax was guilty too, didn't she?