Arrest of the Heart

by Judy Kentrus

  Jess checked out the half-naked man one more time. Eye candy is right. “Show’s over, he put his shirt back on.”

  Her office was sunny bright from the two tall windows covered by wide open Venetian blinds. Some of the furniture that had been passed off to the police department looked like WWII rejects. Her desktop computer was as old as time, but it served her purpose. She reviewed the three-page fax and tightened her lips in annoyance. The driving a stolen vehicle charge would be dismissed. Scott Landis had included a notarized letter stating that he loaned the Stingray to the pirate.

  Long and Barrows. She pondered the name, Long. A well-to-do couple owned a beautiful, rustic, year-round log home on the south side of the lake. They rarely came up, but their son utilized it occasionally during the summer months. The phone interrupted her pondering. Blackbeard’s food had arrived.

  Linc caught a pleasant fragrance and swung his feet to the floor. Exercising had helped combat the boredom and eliminate some of the whiplash tension in the back of his neck. “If it isn’t my personal ray of sunshine.”

  “It’s our standard menu, hamburgers and fries,” she said, and noticed the clear triangular container on the tray. Sallie Mae, the owner of the Spoonful Cafe, had added a piece of her home made Apple Crumb pie.

  He was pleasantly surprised by the change in the lady cop. The navy uniform camouflaged a very feminine body he’d felt, briefly, the other night. Rose pink Capri’s hugged her slender hips and ended mid-calf. Strappy wedge sandals showed lipstick red toenails and added two inches to her height. A delicate strip of lace edged the V-neck of her short-sleeved top. The color matched the turquoise green stone in the pendant suspended by a fine gold chain about her neck. The pony tail was gone. Loosely flowing golden red hair brushed her shoulders, and a wisp of bangs teased her forehead. Pale pink lips highlighted the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks. She was a sweet, succulent strawberry he wanted to taste. Linc leaned a hip against the bars.

  “You look lovely.” Damn sexy, he silently added. “Would it be too much to hope you dressed up for me?”

  “It will be a cold day in Hell before I dress up for you.” Jess opened the door and passed him the tray. His meal included an oversize cup of coffee, and it was the first thing he chose.

  “Thank you. I’m a caffeine addict. This is the longest I’ve gone without a hit during the day.” The food smelled delicious, but he really needed human contact, her specifically. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

  “God.” Jess closed her eyes and turned down the sarcasm. “I’m on my way to a social gathering at the church. See you in court, Mr. President.”

  “Don’t leave. I’m going bat shit crazy in here. At least talk to me while I eat. Please.”

  The smooth, easy plea persuaded her to turn around. This evening he looked scruffier, not having been able to shave. The dark beard made him look more forbidding and he smelled like raw sweat and male, a dangerous combination. She leaned a shoulder against the bars. “What do you want to talk about?”

  Linc sat on the bunk and took a bite of the medium rare hamburger and was surprised when he tasted his favorite blend, ketchup with a dash of hot sauce. There was only one person who made a burger this good. He’d spent many an hour washing dishes and doing odd jobs at the Spoonful. He took another swallow of coffee.

  “How long have you been a cop?”

  “So, now you want to interrogate me, and I don’t even know your name.”

  “You’ll find out tomorrow. Tonight, I would like to talk about you.”

  That feeling there was a lot more going on was stronger than ever. “Twelve years.”

  “Is there a lucky guy sharing your bed?”

  “Ah, ah, my turn. What business do you have in Laurel Heights?”

  “Monkey,” he winked and reached for a golden crisp curly fry.

  “I’m divorced.”

  “Working in law enforcement puts a strain on any marriage.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had some experience.”

  “No, I have a few cop friends who are married. Shift work is a killer, but their wives are very tolerant.” The cops worked for him part-time during their off hours.

  “He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Do you enjoy being a cop?”

  “My turn. Since it’s pointless to ask you your name, have you ever been arrested before?”

  “Would you believe this is the first time I’ve been on this side of the bars?”

  “Actually, yes. You’ve got quite a mouth on you, and…” Jess realized what she’d said, and suffered the slow burning heat of embarrassment.

  Linc zeroed in on her statement and appreciated the pinkish color of her cheeks. “Is that your way of telling me you remember the delicious kiss we shared?”

  “Get real.” She glanced up to the security camera. The damn light kept blinking on and off, and she wondered how much of their conversation had been recorded. It was time to end their jail room rendezvous.

  “See you in the morning, Blackbeard,” Jess blurted as her Ferragamo sandals made a silent, but hasty retreat.

  “Thanks for the company.” He realized he’d eaten everything and reached for the paper napkin and frowned at the note hidden in the folds. “Helluva way to make an entrance. Did you think I wouldn’t hear my boy is back in town? I missed that handsome face of yours. Come and see me as soon as you get out of the hoosegow.”

  “How did she find out?” Sallie Mae was the only one he’d occasionally communicated with over the years, but he hadn’t told her he was returning to Laurel Heights. She’d also kept his secrets. Buford had claimed his grandson was dead, and Linc preferred to keep it that way. The letter he’d received from the lawyer notifying Linc of Buford Adams’ death was immediately shredded. He stretched out on the bunk and put his arm over his eyes, trying to block out painful memories.

  Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter 3

  “Morning, Barb,” Jessie greeted the day shift dispatcher when she walked into headquarters at nine o’clock Monday morning. Barbara, the wife of Lieutenant McCarthy, was a pretty woman with a ready smile. To blend in with the officers, she chose to wear navy trousers and a lighter blue tailored shirt. She dressed up the plain color by adding silver earrings and bracelets.

  “Great way to spend your day off,” she remarked, waiting for the explosion that was about to happen.

  “It’s all part of the job.” Jessie glanced at the cellblock monitor and felt like she’d just suffered a punch to the gut. The cell was empty.

  “Where is the prisoner?” she demanded.

  Barbara’s soft green eyes sparkled with excitement. “I came on shift at eight and all hell broke loose. Mayor Humperdinck called and demanded Blackbeard be released. The chief wasn’t in yet, so I put the call in to my husband. The next thing I know, three gorgeous women came in, demanding to see the prisoner. One was his fancy lawyer. They met with the lieutenant and our guest was remanded into his lawyer’s custody so he could get cleaned up before his arraignment.”

  “Goddamn it, why wasn’t I notified?” Jess reined in her temper. “Sorry, didn’t mean to take it out on you. Who the hell was our guest?”

  “Lincoln Adams, the grandson of the late Buford Adams.”

  “He’s supposed to be dead! That’s what Buford always claimed.” No! No! He couldn’t be alive. If he found out…

  “Apparently, he’s very much alive. The lieutenant and the chief said to tell you they would be in court. The double D’s will also be there.”

  “Thanks, Barbara, I’ll be in my office.” She sat at her desk and cradled her head in her hands. Lincoln Adams was alive! Images of him carousing with her brother, Treig, flashed through her mind. She was fourteen-years-old when he left town, breaking a young girl’s heart. He never knew how she’d felt about him. Luckily, she’d gotten over him long ago. He still didn’t know who she was.

  Buford Adams had every
one believe his grandson was dead. Why? The ninety-five year old philanthropist had died last year. He’d boasted that his family members were conductors on the Underground Railway during the Civil War. The secret basement under his house was connected to a tunnel used to help slaves escape. Now, Buford’s grandson sweeps into town, thinking he can break the law and disrespect her as a police officer. Where has he been the past eighteen years? What happened that he has to wear a patch over his eye?

  Jessie hit the ladies room before heading up to court. This morning, she’d added her dark navy blazer over her uniform. She flipped aside the wisp of bangs that brushed her forehead and refreshed her cool pink lip gloss. She recalled what Barbara had said about three women coming to his defense. One was his lawyer, but who were the other two? Was one his wife? “Lincoln Adams, you may have hired a harem to defend you, but you’re not getting out of this one. I’ve got my ace in the hole.”

  She took the steps to the third floor and considered doing an about face when she opened one of the tall oak doors to the courtroom. Thanks to the rumor mill, spectators were jockeying for space in the highly polished wooden pews. Brass, lantern-style lights were mounted on the sky-blue painted walls of the stately chambers that were also used for monthly town meetings. Jess was tempted to ask, “Don’t you people have something better to do?” but ignored the busybody chatter. Her case was the only one on the docket, so she took a seat at the prosecution table. The felony charge for assaulting a police officer could include mandatory jail time. The judge would set a date for the follow-up hearing.

  Just before ten, the rear doors opened and Jess turned about to see her nemesis entering the courtroom, flanked by two women. The shorter attractive female with curly auburn hair made a statement in a red, form fitting suit. Jessie recognized her from the photograph with the five children. The other beautiful woman was dressed in a deep turquoise sheath that accented her tall, lithe figure. Her shoulder-length black hair was drawn up on the side and held in place by a wide gold clip. He had guiding hands on the back of their waists.

  In the rich, dark silver-gray suit and black tie, Lincoln Adams looked polished, confident. The shadowy beard was gone and his hair was perfectly groomed in a queue. He had the nerve to grin and wink at her before taking a seat at the table on the defendant’s side of the room. The woman in the fire red suit took a possessive hold of his hand. She had to be the wife.

  “Morning, Sergeant,” Officer Dailey greeted, taking a seat next to her and yawning. “Sorry, haven’t been to bed yet. Midnights are catching up with me.”

  “Understandable. Where’s your partner?”

  “He’s in the lobby, drooling over the defendant’s lawyer.” Bill glanced at the defendant’s table. “Blackbeard draws beautiful women like flies to a picnic.”

  Jessie thought the same thing, but told herself this fiasco would be over soon.

  Julie had caught the flirty wink Linc had given the very attractive lady cop. So, that’s the way it is, she silently noted and squeezed Lincoln’s hand. “Alex and I are prepared to take the stand.”

  “Your lawyer wants us to sit with you to show our support,” Alexis added, and glanced at her watch, wondering what was keeping Russell and Scott. Melissa Stewart rubbed Alexis the wrong way. She kept finding ways to touch Russell, a casual hand to his arm, leaning close to whisper in his ear. The next time she “got familiar,” Alexis intended to put the bitch in her place.

  “I really appreciate you being here this morning. How were you able to leave the babies?” he asked both women.

  “That’s why God made grandparents,” Alex laughed.

  “Before I forget.” Julie handed him a white envelope from Trouble and Double Trouble. “We didn’t say anything, but underestimated the power of my daughters and forgot that the baby monitor was on.”

  When Linc opened the card made out of construction paper, two cards fell onto the table. “Dear Uncle Lincoln, we herd you are in jail. Only bad people go to jail. You are not bad. Here are two cards to give to the judge person so you can come home, one from each of us. We love you Susan and Vicky Landis (Don’t tell Billy about the cards cause we took them from his Monopoly game.) The girls had sent two “get out of jail free” cards.

  Minutes later, Officer Donatiello strolled in, followed by two, heart-stopping handsome men dressed in dark business suits. They flanked a stunning woman, who walked with purposeful stride, despite her four inch heels. The skirt to her black, pin-striped suit was slit to just above the knee. Rust highlights streaked dark brown hair that hung long and straight down her back. She set a slim case on the table and took a seat next to her client. She purposely crossed her leg at the knee, exposing a great deal of skin.

  “Cool your hormones, Emilio,” Jessie said, when he took his seat beside Officer Dailey.

  “Oh, yeah, but she is fine,” he said, wiggling his thick black eyebrows. “Tell me again why we have to be here?”

  “I didn’t speak to the lieutenant personally, but now that we know who Blackbeard is, we’re going in with guns loaded.”

  “So, who is he?” they asked together.

  “Lincoln Adams, Buford’s grandson.”

  “Son of a beeswax,” Bill said. “No wonder the chief and lieutenant and half the town are sitting in the back.”

  “Bees wax?” Donatiello repeated, unable to take his eyes off the long slender leg of the fine looking lawyer.

  “Don’t knock it. I don’t like to curse in front of my kids, so I substitute words. We’ve got more celebrities in the house.”

  “Who?” Jess asked.

  “Russell Long. I responded to his parent’s house when he came up last summer. He forgot to turn off the alarm and the security company notified us. The dark haired woman at the defendant’s table is Long’s wife.”

  “No way!” Emilio exclaimed. “That’s Athena, the fashion model. She was on the cover of Sports Illustrated swim suit edition three times!”

  “Excuse me,” a male voice interrupted.

  Jess looked up at one of the men who’d escorted the lady lawyer into the courtroom. He had a great smile that reached his eyes.

  “I’m Scott Landis, the owner of the Stingray.”

  Jess stood up and accepted his outstretched hand. “Thank you for forwarding me proof of ownership. Your friend is still facing some serious charges.”

  “I’m confident he will get a fair hearing. My other purpose for coming over was to ask if you found my daughters’ nightgowns and slippers. Vicky and Susan are having a sleepover with their Girl Scout Troop and were upset that I left them in the trunk.” Scott glanced over and smiled at Julie. “The foxy lady in the red suit is my wife and their leader.”

  So, Lincoln Adams isn’t married, flashed through her mind. “I discovered them when I searched the car. After the trial, go to Paul’s Garage, our impound yard. It’s just down the block. Show him proof of ownership so you can retrieve your belongings. If he has any questions, have him call headquarters.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. I better get back before they think I deserted to the side of the enemy,” he said with that same friendly smile.

  At ten o’clock sharp, Dan Wasnewski, the court officer, announced, “All rise, The Honorable Margaret Taylor, presiding.”

  Jessie deliberately turned her head and winked at Lincoln Adams before she smiled at her mother.

  To her shocking surprise, he winked right back.

  A slight gasp drew his attention. “What?”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Melissa impatiently hissed in his ear.

  He glanced down at the finger pointing to the iPad on the table, not believing what he was reading. “No! It couldn’t be!”

  The arresting officer was Jessie Taylor, the sister of his best friend in high school. At fourteen, she’d been cute as a button. At thirty-two, she was stunning. How could he not have noticed? He’d once called her Strawberry Shortcake and she got insulted, thinking he was mocking her freckles and red hai
r. His troubled musings were interrupted by an officious voice he would never forget.

  “Good morning.” Judge Taylor had been forewarned of the crowd in the courtroom, but got right down to business. She addressed the members of the Laurel Heights Police Department. “Who will be pressing charges?”

  “I will, Your Honor.” Jessie kept a stiff, military stance.

  “Who will be representing the defendant?”

  “Melissa Stewart, Your Honor.”

  “This is an informal hearing. No opening statement is necessary. Your client is being charged with numerous motor vehicle violations and a felony, assault on a police officer. We will address the motor vehicle offenses and then the assault.”

  “Excuse me,” Melissa interrupted, “I would appreciate some clarification.”

  Margaret raised a questioning brow. “You’ve a problem already, counselor?”

  “Your Honor and the officer bringing charges against my client share the same last name. Is it a coincidence, or are you related?

  “Sergeant Taylor is my daughter.”

  “Wouldn’t that be considered a conflict of interest? I’m not suggesting you might be biased, but I am only looking out for my client’s welfare.”

  “Counselor, I don’t appreciate you coming into my courtroom, impugning my integrity and accusing me of not being able to make a fair, impartial decision.” Margaret’s voice was laced with icy derision. “In all my years on the bench, this is the first time my judicial credence has been challenged!”

  Melissa’s hackles rose, and she didn’t appreciate being put down by some hick judge. She decided to be more aggressive in her questioning of the judge’s daughter. “My apologies.”

  “Let’s proceed.” She directed her attention to Linc.

  “Mr. Adams, you are being charged with reckless driving, speeding, driving under the influence, without a license, and an assault on a police officer. How do you plead to these charges?”

  “Not guilty, Your Honor”