“No, you won’t. You can’t. I blame it on all that Midwest honor. It’s such a shame. We could have been great together.” He raised the gun, aimed at my chest.
I swallowed hard. “You’re pretty calm for a guy who plans to shoot someone.” There had never been a day in my life where I censored my words, worried about the trouble my big mouth could get me into. But, in the moment, standing toe to toe with death, I would have thought I could control myself. “People will miss me, look for me, and figure out your little scheme.”
Death nodded. “You know, I thought about that, but you’re a drunk, darlin’. Everybody knows you can’t turn down a drink, and you’ve been depressed since your dad died.”
I let that one pass, but if I survived this, I was never touching another drop of alcohol as long as I lived. Well, at least until he was handcuffed and stowed into the backseat of a police car.
I needed to think and fast. He was starting to get twitchy. As soon as the answer came to me, with its little ray of hope attached, I blurted the words. “It’ll never work, Blane. I left a note for Rory saying I was coming to meet Jamie at the lake. She’s going to come all fire and ice to get her car back and probably kick my ass.”
As though he couldn’t believe I’d been smart enough to leave a note, which I had, he dropped his mouth open, shook his head.
“I didn’t want her reporting her car stolen.”
“Even better. I was gonna take the gun along, clean it, put it back in his little lock box, but this way I get rid of both of you. She’ll find your body, my brother’s gun, and she’ll demand the swift justice only Texas law can provide.”
“Oh, God bless Texas. What is it with you people and your pride in Texas law? We all have laws against murder, Einstein.” I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
He turned away from me for a second, relaxing his guard, playing at sadness. “It will be hard, but my dedication to making sure the person who killed you goes to prison will demand I prosecute my brother to the fullest extent of the law.” He grinned. “Thank you. And it will be much easier to convince everyone that he was the one screwing with my cases too.”
“So, you have it all figured out?”
Lord, why hadn’t I recorded it on my cell? Well, because I thought in terms of a defense attorney, and we, as a rule, hated taped conversations. They never seemed to work out well for us. Damn it all anyway. I would have had sole ownership of a confession to his involvement in the dirty side of the investigation against him, as well as his half-baked conspiracy to commit murder, mine, and frame his brother for it.
I stood, a hostage to my own idiocy, and all I could think of was confession tapes and my general dislike for them. Out of body experience maybe? Ill-timed Attention Deficit Disorder, more likely.
I had to think, stop kicking myself and get it together, because I was afraid his trigger finger would get itchy and I would end up in a slump with blood pouring out of my body. My heart pounded, my hands trembled, and my stomach ached.
“This is far enough.” He pulled up short at the edge of the water.
Oh, Lord. I didn’t want to meet my maker in Rory’s sweatpants and tank top. I clenched my fists and held up a hand as he leveled the gun toward me again. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Okay, you win, all right. You get to shoot me, frame your brother, whatever.” I rolled my eyes as though none of it mattered. “But what happened to Emily? I know her brother did it, but why?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Really? Now?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. I’m not going to be around to see how it all plays out, right?”
He tilted his head to one side. “They came home, just like they said. Checked on the kids, took the sitter home. Middle of the night, they wake up to a horrible screaming. The boy was covered in blood, holding a knife. The little girl was on the garage floor. She was already gone. Nothing they could do. Nathan called me, begging for my help. He couldn’t lose them both. He and Gabby were on the skids, his drug use too much for her to handle. She didn’t want the kid to go to jail, and he didn’t want her anymore. This was perfect and you screwed it up.”
How had I not noticed? Thinking back, he’d come in wild-eyed, demanding to see Rory, and I’d brushed it off as anguish, the agony of losing his daughter, seeing his wife in an interrogation room. I wanted to kick myself.
“So, he promised her he would get Rory as her lawyer and she would get off if she took the blame. I wasn’t worried about Rory. Even if she took the case, she would have fallen apart. I left her that binder to make sure. Then, my dumbass brother stepped in, and you showed up, and it all started getting out of hand. Thanks to you, I can’t control Nathan. He’s talking to the investigators and trying to get out from under his responsibilities to me because his wife is convinced you can save her. All the sudden, he’s back in love with her. The fool is even talking rehab and getting clean.” He shook his head. “And every single one of them is putting their money on a drunk to save them. Go ahead. Save them all.” He shook his head again and raised the gun, this time sighting in my head. “But who’s gonna save you, Grace?”
“I don’t need anyone to save me. I can save myself.”
“Really?” He pulled back the hammer with a click of metal sliding against metal, but a flash of movement from behind him caught my eye as Rory stepped out into full view.
“Or maybe she will.” I pointed over his left shoulder and he chuckled.
“Nice try.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as Jamie joined Rory, along with four police officers, weapons drawn, and Valerie?
“Blane?” Valerie’s voice was soft, and he turned, then moved to position his body at an angle to all of us.
“You really left a note?” Blane flipped an irritated, open-mouthed glance my way.
“I stole Rory’s car.” It explained things in my mind, but he looked down at his shoes, taking his eyes off me long enough that I dashed around him to stand beside Rory. Relief powered through me, weakened my knees, and I sagged against her. I couldn’t have been more grateful for the trio of badly dressed superheroes, not a cape among them, and the uniformed cops.
“I thought you were bluffing.” He shook his head.
“Put the gun down, Blane.” Jamie’s voice held a note of calm, but anger danced behind his eyes. “Think this through.”
“You have everything. Do you have to have her too? You let her come between us.”
“She didn’t come between us. Life did. Your extracurricular business ventures came between us.” Jamie shook his head. “We had it all. The whole town worshiped us. We’re their heroes. I catch them, and you put them away. Wasn’t that enough for you?” Softer he added, “Why wasn’t it enough?”
“It was never about you and me together. It was about you always being better, having more. I was smarter”--he looked at me and grimaced--“and they all liked you better.” Blane waved the small pistol around as though directing an orchestra. “It’s always been about Jamie and how fucking perfect you are.”
“Blane.”
“Even the drunk likes you better.” He nodded his head at me.
“Seriously. Let it go, Blane.” I took one step forward and Rory’s nails in my arm dragged me back to her side.
“You know what? You can keep her, but you’ll always know I had her first. I was the one holding her when her daddy died. Me, not you.”
Jamie gulped back whatever emotion might have been bubbling to the surface. “Just put the gun down, Blane. We can work everything else out.”
“I’m not going to jail, Jamie. They’ll kill me. I put most of them in there. I won’t make it to my cell without some punk, hell-bent on revenge, sticking his sharpened toothbrush in my back.”
“Blane,” Valerie’s southern twang softened the hostility as she stepped around me to stand in front of her husband. “Please, put the gun down. For us. For the baby.”
“Val. I
t’s too late for all of that.”
She wrapped a hand around his neck, pulled his face close to hers. “It’s never too late, Blane. I’ve loved you my whole life, since we were little kids, then in high school and college.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. If this was an act, she deserved her own red carpet walk and one of those shiny, gold man trophies. “We’ve made it through so much, but I won’t be able to forgive you if you make me raise this baby without you. Please, Blane, put it down.”
“They’ll put me in jail, Val.” He stopped pointing the gun at me and turned it on himself, shoving the barrel against his temple.
“No. You’re a pillar in this town, a man people respect and love. You served them, protected them. A judge is going to see that.” I couldn’t be sure how much she heard before they all appeared, but I had to believe she’d heard enough to know we hadn’t been platonically taking a stroll. “We’ll get a lawyer, a good one, and no matter what happens, we’ll work it out. I love you so much. Please.”
She ran her hand up his arm to the pistol still clutched in his hand. He shook her off. “It’s not enough, Val. I’ve never been enough.”
“To me, you’ve always been everything.” A tear slipped down his cheek, lit up by the increasing dawn. “Please, put the gun down.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You can put the gun down and walk out of here with me by your side every minute. We’ll get one of these hotshot chicks to represent you, and we can get through this together. The way it’s always been meant to be.” She had a stand by her man vibe I couldn’t fathom considering all she’d seen and heard.
I could do little more than watch, wait for the resolution.
Jamie circled to the side, his gun resting against his thigh. “Blane, think about Mum. If something happens to you, it will kill her. And that’ll be your fault.”
“Shut up, Jamie.” Blane swung the gun away from himself and pointed it at Jamie. The weapon wavered, and he seemed to think better of it, then pressed it back against his own head.
“Please, Blane. Don’t do this. I need you. I love you.” Valerie reached to lay her hand over Blane’s. After a few long minutes of looking into her face, he lowered his gun. “We’ll get through this together. I promise.”
He nodded, pulled her against his chest, then raised his arm and leveled it at Jamie. This was one smart Texan. He’d helped himself to a human shield. No one would risk firing a shot while he held a pregnant woman in front of him.
I struggled to free myself from Rory’s strong-arm grasp. For barely being five feet tall, she had upper body strength that rivaled anyone else who’d tried to stop me from doing what I wanted.
The officers moved forward, coming at him from all sides, but no one stood between his gun and Jamie. If he fired, he wouldn’t miss, not at this close distance. Shit.
Rory pulled me behind her body and stepped forward, blocking Blane’s view of his brother. “I’ll defend you, Blane. I’ll do it. Don’t make it worse. Don’t do anything they can use against you later.”
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his nose buried in his wife’s hair.
“Come on, Blane. It’s a good deal. I don’t lose unless I want to. You’ve been my friend for a long time. I won’t want to lose your case.”
Well, all right then. We’ve evened out in the taking-cases-that-made-the-other cringe category of our relationship. I held back my huff of disbelief behind clamped lips.
He shook his head, dropped the gun to the ground, and waited.
An officer on each side grabbed one of Blane’s hands and pulled them behind his back as another led a struggling Valerie to safety. “I’ll meet you at the police station. I love you, Blane.”
Without further incident, an officer walked Blane calmly to the car, and every ounce of adrenaline my body produced caught up with me all at once. I shook, knees wobbling, heart pounding, as Rory pulled me into a hug. “I was so worried. When we pulled up and he had that gun…I’m glad you’re okay.”
I doubted she would feel that way after I got finished with her. “Seriously? He burned down my house. Tried to kill me. And you’re promising to be his lawyer?” This whole partnership thing was not at all what I imagined it would be. Where was the glamour? The camaraderie? The mid-day shopping trips while clients went out and proved their own innocence?
She nodded and pulled me close again. “And he didn’t shoot your boyfriend.” She nodded at Jamie. “You’re welcome.” She released me from her Hulkish grip and walked away, toward the police car where Blane awaited his transport and Valerie stood sobbing outside.
Jamie cocked his head to the side, a ghost of a smile almost turning his lips. “Hey, you.”
I blew out a short breath. “Hey.”
“Are you hurt?”
“My pride, maybe. My arm, a little.”
“What about your heart?” He moved closer.
“It’s fine.” I shook my head. “What about yours?”
He shook his head, grasped the back of his neck, and looked at me. “I don’t know yet.” Somehow, whether I moved or he did, the space between us shortened. “I hate what he did to you.”
I nodded and waited as his good hand reached out to clasp mine. “I hate what he did to me. And most of all, I hate what he’s done to us.”
“We’re okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Aren’t we?” He gave my fingers a squeeze and I looked down. I hadn’t planned on a big admission, but I wanted to start off on the right foot. For this to work, I couldn’t hide and neither could he. “Ever since I got here, it’s been… I feel like I’m falling into something and I don’t know… I’m scared, Jamie.”
He nodded. “If you fall, I will always be here to catch you, to save you from whatever haunts you.” With a finger under my chin, he tilted my head up to meet his gaze. “From the first minute I saw you when he brought you to the diner, I knew. You’re the girl I’ve dreamt of my whole life. And now you’re here. I’ll wait if you need time to process all of this, but you’re the girl I want to marry, the one I want to wake up with every morning, and sleep next to every night. If you’re gonna fall Grace, fall with me.”
“Have you been practicing that whole speech?”
He nodded and breathed out a small sigh. “I didn’t know if I would ever get to say it.”
He cradled me against his chest, and the wild beat of his heart thumped under my cheek. “I don’t need to process anything.” I lifted my head, pressed my lips against his, and waited. The world didn’t implode around me. The sky didn’t open up and dispense a swarm of locusts. No sign from the universe warned me away from him. Of course, I’d gotten no clue about Blane, none that I paid attention to anyway. How had I not noticed that his brother was the bad seed? It didn’t matter. Being in Jamie’s arms, holding him close, looking into the clear depths of his eyes, all caused a fluttering in my stomach. “I’m in, Jamie. With you. I love you.”
He grinned, brushed his lips across mine, then trailed across my cheek to whisper, “I love you, Grace. I think I always have.”
“Just say you always will.”
“I always will.”
Meet the Author
As an author, Melissa Shirley believes in fairytales, happily ever after, and destiny. Born and raised in Illinois, and a mother of eight, she lives with her husband and three youngest children in a quiet town in the southern part of the state where she spends her time writing and watching her children grow into the people she has always dreamed. Please visit her at http://melissashirley2.wix.com/melissashirleyauthor.
Be sure not to miss Melissa Shirley’s sequel to Falling Grace:
Simon Says
Read on for a special sneak peek of the next book in the Storybook Lake series!
Learn more about Melissa Shirley
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31684
Chapter 1
Present--Opening Statements
“All rise!”
Being on trial for my life taught me two things. One, when the bailiff says “All rise,” everyone in the courtroom should immediately shut up and stand. Two, the business end of being on trial and the tremors associated with it did not couple well with coffee drinking and wearing silk blouses.
I blotted at my shirt while my lawyer leaned in close to advise me, yet again, of the possible outcomes of the case should I lose. She turned to face me head-on and recommended I, at least, consider the prosecutions deal of life in prison with the possibility of parole in twenty-five years. Twenty-five years? I decided to gamble on a jury trial and a possible life sentence. Surely, at least one of the twelve people would realize I didn’t kill Sean, no matter how badly I wanted to and no matter how much unwavering gratitude, (trial talk taboo), I harbored for the person who’d actually done the job.
The jurors filed into the courtroom, seven women between the ages of thirty and late sixties and five men from early twenties to late forties. There was a school teacher, bus driver, street sweeper, an accountant, landscaper, college student, and three food service professionals--translation: waiters and waitresses--a dog trainer, boutique owner, and a hairdresser. Somehow, being accused of murder changed how I evaluated my peers, especially since I had no choice but to put my life in their hands.
Calvin Coolidge Connor, the prosecutor and apparent love child of Beetlejuice and Mr. Frodo with dark black hair, a slender waist, and suits that swallowed him almost whole, looked over at me with slits for eyes and a grim smirk on his lips. As green as any other small town thirty-five year-old prosecutor and eager to make a name for himself, he probably jumped at the chance to take this case. He’d been an opportunist in high school too, but as friends back then, I’d been able to overlook it. In this moment, with a gallery full of TV cameras, former friends, and reporters with pens poised to capture every detail, I hated him for it.
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