by S. J. Bishop
"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 c
oncrete. 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.
The couple looked at each other. "I'm Mike Abernathy and this is my wife, Jenna." The baby wailed. "And this is our daughter, Molly." I looked at the baby again and tried to still the pounding of my heart. "I don't think we've noticed anything unusual here in the building." He shrugged and looked at Jenna again.
"Me neither," she said. "Unless you count the fights our neighbor has with her boyfriend, but that's not really unusual."
"Fights?" I asked. "Which neighbor is this?"
"Emily," Mike said. "She lives across the hall from us."
"It's no big deal," Jenna quickly chimed in. I could see her starting to worry about getting Emily in trouble.
"Yeah," Mike chipped in. "It's just that they get really loud sometimes."
"A lot of times," Jenna mumbled.
"Do you know what they fight about?" I asked.
The couple exchanged a glance. "He's just the jealous type," Jenna finally said. "One time he got mad at Mike just for saying hello to Emily. But she's a cop too, so I know she can take care of herself," Jenna quickly added.
"So he doesn't hit her?"
"No," Jenna and Mike said together.
"At least, not that we've ever heard," Mike added. "I think it's really just more of a jealousy thing."
I did a quick internet search on my phone and found a photo of Anderson at a recent press conference regarding Jax's trial. I held it up for Mike and Jenna. "Is this the man you're talking about?" I asked. They both nodded.
My mind was spinning. "Thank you for your time," I said and left them to their day. On the way back to the station, I went over everything I'd just learned. I'd already guessed that Anderson was jealous, but this brought things to a new level. Arguments... tempers... There were two main motives behind most murders—money and jealousy.
Something Captain Murphy said in his office came back to me. Officer Hope is exactly where her friends want her. At the time, I'd wondered what he'd meant by that. Now, it was starting to make sense. Anderson was the senior homicide detective in the department. He ran the tests that were given to officers trying to make detective. The same test that Emily had failed twice. It was just a hunch, but I had the feeling that Emily hadn't failed those tests after all. Anderson wasn't just jealous. Based on the way he'd treated me since my arrival, he was also chauvinistic. He probably wanted to keep Emily close, but he wouldn't want to risk her getting ahead of him. Hell, he wouldn't even want her on the same level as him.
If I was right, and if Anderson knew about Emily's relationship with Jax, it would have driven him crazy. Especially if Emily was still hung up on Jax. Would it have driven Anderson to murder, though? I had to find out.
33
Jax
Treena sat next to me on the couch twirling her hair. It was Saturday, which meant I didn't have to be back in court until Monday, so we'd shared an early breakfast together at my place before she had to go to work. Things hadn't gotten much better since the first day of my trial, but I still had hope they would turn around for me, especially with Treena on my side. She lifted her hand and placed the tips of her fingernails in her mouth, biting down on them.
"Okay," I said, "what's going on?"
She looked at me, startled, as if she'd forgotten I was there. "What?" she asked. "What do you mean?"
"You're biting your fingernails. You haven't done that since high school."
Immediately, she lowered her hand to her lap. "I'm just worried about your trial," she said, but I could tell she was holding something back.
"Are you still worried about Geoffrey?" I asked her. I'd told Treena that my lawyer had been pushing me for my alibi. "I told you not to worry about that. I know I was pissed before, but..." I lifted my shoulders, "...you're right. There's no point in ruining both our lives when your testimony won't even help me."
The fact was, I'd spoken to Geoffrey about the situation with Tr
eena, not naming her specifically, just saying that she was someone in law enforcement. I wanted to know how badly Treena's involvement with me might hurt her career. Geoffrey had told me it would end it. He'd even agreed that since she couldn't verify my whereabouts between two and four, there was little she could offer in the way of help. Hearing Geoffrey say that had softened me a bit on the whole issue.
She smiled warmly at me, and I pulled her tightly against me. She nuzzled her head against my neck, and I felt something stiffen below my waist.
"Have I mentioned how glad I am that you were assigned to my case?” I asked her.
"You are?" she asked.
"Well, I am now. I mean, how else could you come and go from my place without drawing attention to yourself? It only makes sense that the detective in charge would come by every now and again."
"Anderson wants me to stop investigating. He's convinced you're guilty and that looking at anyone else is a waste of time."
"That's not exactly new though, is it?"
"No, but I went by Emily's again the other day. I talked to some of her neighbors. I think the reason Anderson wants me to stop investigating is because he's afraid of what I might find out. About him."
"Treena," I said, seeing where she was going with this. "I've told you before. Forget Anderson. Forget Emily. It's Mason you need to focus on."
"There's nothing linking Mason to the murder," she said, sitting up now. "I haven't even found anything linking him to Penny."
"Well I can't tell you how to do your job better," I snapped, moving away from her. I hadn't had a drink since the night I'd showed up drunk outside her apartment, but I felt the familiar tingle creep into the back of my neck. The tingle that reminded me just how much alcohol still had a hold over me. If I had a bottle in front of me now, chances were fifty-fifty that I'd be pouring myself a drink. I had to remember to call Caden later. He came by whenever he could and had gone through my house with a fine tooth comb, making sure that I didn't have any bottles hidden anywhere. It had annoyed me, but after punching him the way I had, I figured I had better keep my mouth shut. Just grin and bear it.