by SJ Bishop
"Not right now, but I'm hoping that'll change soon."
"Oh? Do you have some new information?"
"Not exactly. But I have a friend who's looking into some things for me."
"I see."
"Hey," I said, slapping my thigh and sitting forward, "enough about all this. You came down here to cheer me up, right? So give me some good news. I've been watching the games on TV; the guys are looking good. Though it pains me to admit they can look that good without me there." I smiled, wanting to show him that I was joking even though part of me was jealous of Mason and the play time he was getting. Time that would've been mine if this shit hadn't happened.
"Actually, Jax, that's the other thing that brought me here today." His face was drawn, and I got the feeling that whatever it was, it wasn't gonna be good.
"This isn't gonna cheer me up, is it?" I asked.
"I'm afraid not." He leaned forward and drew in a breath. "There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just gonna spit it out and you can slap me for it later. Mason's head quarterback now."
My heart thumped once in my chest. I tried to smile. "Well, given the circumstances, that's not really news," I said.
Coach Allen sighed. "You don't get me. He's head quarterback now and for the rest of the season. Officially. Even if you get yourself out of this mess and back on the field, you're benched for the rest of the season."
"Benched?" I asked, my hands curling into fists at my side. "What about backup? I can still do that, can't I?"
"Afraid not. This came from on high."
"Tim Hewitt?"
Coach nodded. If I could have taken the Jet's owner and stuffed him down a deep, dark hole, I would have.
"So what the fuck are you telling me? That even if they find the real asshole who killed Penny, I'm off the team?"
"Not off the team... officially. Just benched. Hewitt said to ride out your contract then let you go." His shoulders heaved, and he stood up. "I'm sorry, Jax. I really am. There's nothing I can do. I tried."
"I know," I said, wiping at my eyes. I hated that Coach was seeing me like this. An image of a highball glass filled with scotch and ice flittered through my mind. Where was Caden? Was he still coming by? I'd thought he'd be here by now.
"You gonna be okay?" Coach asked me.
"Sure," I said. Coach was looking at me skeptically.
"I can stay if you want."
"No." I took a breath and put on a smile. "I'm fine. Really. I appreciate your coming down here." I walked him to the door and said goodbye. When he was gone, I stood with my back pressed against the door, breathing hard. I knew I should get to a meeting, but I didn't want to risk being recognized. I'd read online that a reporter had snuck into one my regular AA groups pretending to be an addict in the hopes that he might catch me there, confessing to my crime.
Hell, I'd already blown my sobriety date... would it really be so bad to take another drink right now? Just one?
I pulled my phone out to check for texts from Caden. There was nothing. I texted Treena instead.
What are you doing? I could use some company.
I hit send and hoped she answered soon. What was the last thing Caden had told me on the phone? Don't do anything stupid. "I'll try," I muttered, and took another deep breath.
30
Treena
I sat on the exam table, my legs swinging under me, waiting for the doctor to come back in. I still couldn't believe that I'd fainted. One minute I was talking to Emily, the next I was lying on a stretcher, being lifted into the back of an ambulance. I'd tried to tell the paramedics I was fine and they should release me, but Captain Murphy wouldn't hear of it. He was at the back door to the ambulance, a worried look on his face. It reminded me of my father.
"You're not going anywhere until you get checked out by a doctor," he told me.
"I'm fine," I said, trying to sit up. One of the paramedics pushed me back down.
"If you were fine," Captain Murphy said, "you wouldn't have fainted upstairs." My cheeks burned brightly. Was there no end to the amount of embarrassment I could cause myself? "Take good care of her and bring her back safe," Captain Murphy said just before the ambulance pulled out. It was actually sort of sweet.
My phone buzzed, snapping me out of my trance. I checked my message.
What are you doing? I could use some company.
I didn't want to tell Jax that I was at the hospital right now because I'd fainted at work. He had enough on his mind already, and I knew he'd only worry about me.
At work doing boring police stuff. I'll see you later. I added a smiley face emoticon and hit send. Then I deleted our text history from my phone. No point in taking chances.
I still couldn't believe I was at the hospital. I'd felt fine all day. Maybe a little nauseous earlier, but that was it. I didn't think an upset stomach was unreasonable given the stress I'd been under lately. My mind turned everything over for the hundredth time. Three suspects—Mason, Emily, and Anderson. For some reason, my gut was telling me that it wasn't Mason. Even if he had been fucking Penny, that didn't make him a killer.
Still... I shouldn't be too quick to dismiss anyone. If it was true that Mason had been sleeping with Penny, he certainly would have had easy access to her house. And now that I was thinking about it, he’d had access to Jax's jerseys too. I knew that all football players had at least three on hand at all times. How easy would it have been for Mason to grab hold of one when Jax wasn't around?
And what about Emily? Had Jax ever left an old jersey at her place? I made a mental note to ask him about that. If he had, then either she or Anderson could have used it to frame him.
There was a quick knock on the door, and Dr. Greene's head poked into the room.
"Ms. Walker," he said, closing the door. He was holding a clipboard. His stethoscope swung around his neck.
"Can I go back to work now?" I asked, already jumping off the exam table.
"Not quite yet," he said. "Don't you want to hear your test results?" The corners of his lips were curved up slightly, forming a soft smile that suited his fatherly-looking face.
"Is anything wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing too serious," he said. "Just some low iron. That, combined with the lack of sleep it sounds like you've been experiencing, explains your fainting spell. I'll prescribe some iron pills for you. That should help you feel better."
"Great. Then I just need my release form signed so I can get back to my job."
"I'll sign your form, Ms. Walker. But before you go, there is one more little thing which came up during your tests." He smiled again. "Let me be the first to congratulate you."
I stared at him, no idea what he was talking about.
"Congratulate me?" I asked. "For what?"
"Ms. Walker," Dr. Greene said, his face lighting up now. "You're pregnant."
My chin hit the floor. "Excuse me? Did you say... pregnant?"
"I did. It's still in the early stages. I'd say less than four weeks. When was your last period?"
This had to be a mistake.
"Dr. Greene... no offense, but what the hell are you talking about? I'm on birth control. I haven't missed a dose. I can't be pregnant."
His smile faltered. "Oh. I see. Well, the pill isn't a hundred percent, you know. It's as close as you can get with medication, but nothing is one hundred percent. Except for abstinence, of course. I assume you haven't been practicing that particular form of birth control, have you?"
I shook my head. "No, but—"
"You're pregnant, Ms. Walker. It's not a mistake. Now, if you wish, I can send in someone to go over your options with you."
"Pregnant?" I muttered. Less than a month? When had I first slept with Jax? I did some quick math. Almost three weeks. With the case, the days had just ticked right by. I hadn't even been counting them. It had never even occurred to me that I might be pregnant.
"Thanks, Doctor," I said. "I need to go." I had no idea what to do. I just knew that I needed to talk to Jax.
Now.
31
Jax
I couldn't believe the court date was already here. My lawyer had tried to get it pushed back, but the prosecution did a great job of knocking down his pleas. I turned around and smiled at Treena, who was sitting in the back of the courtroom. She smiled back, but there was no real joy behind it. It looked hollow.
The judge entered the courtroom, and we all rose. When we sat back down, it was official. My trial had just begun. Geoffrey and the prosecutor went through the rigmarole of making their opening statements, then the prosecution called its first witness. It was the elderly woman who had caused my trial to move along at rocket speed. As she made her way to the witness stand, the tennis balls on the bottom of her walker dragging across the floor, she looked like a soft breeze might knock her over. It was no wonder that the prosecution had succeeded in getting my case fast-tracked into court.
"Ms. Martha Billingsley, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" the court officer asked her.
"I do," she replied and took her seat.
"Swearing her in is the easy part," Geoffrey whispered to me. He had already warned me there was a limit to how much he could dig into this particular witness. No one wanted to see a little old lady get ripped apart. If he was too hard on her, we'd lose sympathy with the jury. "That doesn't mean I won't get the truth out of her," he'd told me before coming into court, "it just means I have to be careful how I do it."
"Can you point to the man you saw walking into Penny Ryder's house on the night of her murder?" the prosecutor asked.
Ms. Billingsley pointed directly at me. There were murmurs around the courtroom. Frankly, I didn't see what the big deal was. Of course she pointed at me. I was the one on trial. Who the hell else was she gonna point at?
"You're certain it was Jax Ryder you saw that night?" the prosecution went on.
"Oh yes," Ms. Billingsley said with a shaky voice. "I saw him clear as day. I have excellent vision, you know."
"Twenty-twenty?" the prosecutor asked for the jury's benefit. I was certain he already knew the answer.
"Not quite, but close. I'm slightly farsighted, so I have my reading glasses, you see." She held up a pair of rhinestone-bedecked glasses that hung around her neck. "But there's no problem with my distance vision."
"For the record," the prosecutor said. "We've had Ms. Billingsley's eyes examined by an optometrist, who confirms Ms. Billingsley's excellent vision." He handed the judge a stack of papers from the optometrist, submitting them as evidence. Geoffrey waved his hand when the judge asked if he wished to contest the report. It was allowed into evidence.
I wanted to shout to the courtroom that I was innocent. That this woman was either crazy or lying, but I didn't think that would go over very well with anyone, including Geoffrey. I snuck a quick look at Treena, glad she was there. I wished she could have sat up front with me, but that would have looked strange. We'd both agreed there was no reason she couldn't be in court to watch—it was common for investigating officers to sit in on the cases they were involved with—but sitting in the front and showing outward signs of support would have definitely crossed a line.
Ms. Billingsley went on to describe my number twenty-three jersey. When the prosecutor held up the blood-soaked jersey the cops had taken from me that night, she identified it as the one she'd seen. I wished I hadn't touched Penny's body when I'd found her. That I hadn't knelt down in her blood or wiped my blood-stained hands on my jersey. I stared at the table in front of me, trying to focus on something other than the pounding of my heart. Things were not going well.
At least I knew I had one thing in my favor—the DNA evidence had come back inconclusive. They couldn't use it against me. I reminded myself that if it hadn't been inconclusive, it would have proven I was not the father of Penny's child. That would have been even better. But I would take the scraps where I could get them. Finally, it was Geoffrey's turn to question Ms. Billingsley.
"Can you describe the man you saw going into Penny Ryder's for the jury, please?"
"Brown hair. Number twenty-three jersey for the New York Jets."
"How tall was he?"
She looked at me. "A little over six feet."
"Is that what you saw or what you think you saw, now that you have my client here in front of you?"
Her brow furrowed. I could see her thinking. She was honestly trying her best to get things right. I almost felt bad for her. Appearing in court today had to be draining her. "It's what I saw," she finally replied.
"Did you ever hear a gunshot?"
She shook her head. "My hearing's not as good as my eyes, I'm afraid." She tapped her ear and turned her head so the court could see her hearing aid. "Without it, I'm practically deaf."
"I understand," Geoffrey said sympathetically. "It's hard losing our youth." He patted his balding head and garnered a few chuckles from the courtroom.
"So you can't actually place the exact time that you allegedly saw Mr. Ryder going into Penny Ryder's home?"
"No," she said. "I only happened to look out the window because I'd woken up from a bad dream, you see. When I looked out the window, I saw Mr. Ryder. I went back to sleep shortly thereafter. I never looked at a clock, and I don't have one of them fancy cell phones next to my bed like the kids today."
Geoffrey nodded. "So is it possible—"
Ms. Billingsley cut him off. She may have been old, but she was feisty. "I know what you're gonna ask me, young man." I tried not to laugh at her referring to Geoffrey as 'young.' "And no. I couldn't have made a mistake about seeing Mr. Ryder. I'm deaf, not blind. And I know what I saw. And not you or anyone else is gonna make me say otherwise."
Geoffrey smiled. I could see his hand clenching at his side. "I'm through with this witness, your honor," he said and took his seat. Fuck. This was bad.
32
Treena
Jax's first day in court had been a disaster, prompting me to go back to the drawing board. For the last few weeks, I'd spent my time investigating Emily, Anderson, and Mason, and I'd found nothing. At least, nothing concrete. It certainly seemed as though Mason liked women, and he wasn't particularly picky about them. But I hadn't been able to pin down anything at all regarding his messing around with Penny. Emily was no better. I'd pried more information from Jax regarding his relationship with her, but it hadn't helped much. Anderson was a closed book. I'd trailed him to Emily's a couple of times and snooped around in his garbage, but I hadn't found one thing to link him to Penny's murder.
When I wasn't off investigating the case, I was at home freaking out. A permanent worry line had formed on my forehead. The day I'd found out I was pregnant, I'd gone straight to Jax's house from leaving the doctor's, but when I'd shown up, his friend Caden had been there. I certainly wasn't about to tell Jax I was pregnant in front of him. So I'd waited. And waited. And waited. Now, I was a little over a month in and still hadn't said one word to Jax about the whole thing.
I'd started to tell Clarissa once but had chickened out at the last minute. I'd gone over to her place but when she'd opened the door, she'd been holding Ashley, her one-year-old daughter, and I'd been too scared to spill the beans. I pictured Clarissa squealing with delight when I told her the news, not listening to the worries and concerns I had. She'd just be too excited about becoming an aunt. Jax... he was harder to picture. Would he just sit there stoically, his eyes widening ever so slightly? Or would he pound his fist into the wall, leaving a hole the size of Toledo? Whatever he did, I doubted that he'd be squealing with delight. More like running in terror. Especially with everything else he had going on. How could I add one more thing to the shit heap?
I turned my attention back to what I was doing. Emily's apartment was on the first floor of her building, which made it easy to snoop around. Her windows were large, and she left her blinds up when she went to work. I knew she was at her desk at the station right now. I'd made sure she'd be there, finishing up some paperwork, before I
came down here. The last thing I needed was for her to find me sneaking around her home.
I wandered over to the front door of her building and tried the knob. It turned easily, even though it was supposed to be locked. Some security system. A young couple came up behind me and followed me inside. I recognized them from my stakeouts. They lived across the hall from Emily. They had a newborn baby that I couldn't take my eyes off. I'm carrying one of THOSE inside me. How is that possible?
What's more, what was that going to do to my life when I had it? If I had it. If Jax was in jail, I'd be all alone. Hell, if Jax wasn't in jail I'd probably still be alone. Before I'd found out I was pregnant, I'd told him I was on the pill. He was gonna think I was lying to him about that now. His reaction to this could only be bad. Things between us had been good lately... well, as good as they can be when one person in the relationship is on trial for murder... but that didn't mean he was going to be happy I was pregnant.
Jax's football career was in the toilet. Jax was on the verge of going to prison. And if I told Captain Murphy I was pregnant, I'd be treated differently. I'd only recently been starting to feel like the guys in the department were accepting me. If they found out I was carrying a baby, all that would change. In less than nine months, I'd have no choice but to go out on maternity leave. When you were a woman in a man's world, maternity leave meant the end of your career. Women in the homicide department rarely came back from it. And if they did, they were treated differently.
"Can I help you?" the woman with the baby asked. Her husband wrapped a protective arm around his wife's waist. I realized I'd been staring at them.
"Yes," I said, hoping I sounded confident. Just being near a baby rattled me. I flashed my badge at them. "I'm investigating..." I paused, considering my words. If I said homicide, they might get scared and clam up. People had a way of feeling intimidated when it came to talking about murders. "...some unusual activity that's been reported in the neighborhood lately. Nothing to worry about, but can you tell me if you've heard or seen anything out of the ordinary lately? In your building, I mean. Also, can I get your names for the record?" There. Vague enough not to scare them, but specific enough to get them talking. Damn, I was good.