by S. J. Bishop
If there was a way for the prosecuting attorney to get the new coroner's report thrown out, he'd take it. Even if the new report made its way into evidence, the report wouldn't matter if the prosecutor made me out to be a liar, which he'd most certainly try to do. The only reason the report helped Jax was because of the testimony I'd be giving that I was with him between midnight and two. If the prosecution ripped me to shreds, then Jax would be just as fucked as he was before.
I grabbed my briefcase and went into the kitchen, setting everything out on the table. When Anderson had told me to get my things and get out of the station, I'd made sure to grab my copies of Jax's case file. I wasn't sure if, technically, that was allowed, but I figured what Anderson didn't know wouldn't hurt. Hell, I was already suspended, how much more trouble could I get into?
There were two main things that Jax's case hinged on. The old woman's testimony and the murder weapon. The gun had contained fibers from Jax's shirt and had been found in the vent directly behind his locker at the stadium.
I sifted through everything. Martha Billingsley had testified that she saw someone with dark brown hair, wearing Jax's jersey walk into Penny's house sometime after midnight. The prosecutor had made it out like Martha's testimony was without blemish, but that was far from true. Martha saw someone she thought was Jax walking into Penny's house, not out of it. That meant she had a great view of someone’s backside, but not so much of his front. Had she said anything about his face?
I quickly scanned her testimony. There was nothing to indicate she'd ever seen Jax's face. That meant anyone about Jax's height with his hair color could be the culprit. I scanned through my list of suspects. Mason and Anderson both had dark brown hair. I wasn't sure Mason was as tall as Jax, but that might not matter. It was hard to gauge height accurately from a distance.
My head was starting to ache. I thought about searching Jax's medicine cabinet for a Tylenol, then realized I had no idea whether I could take Tylenol. Would that hurt the baby? I still couldn't believe how well Jax had taken the news. I'd been so certain that he'd be angry, maybe even abandon me. It had never occurred to me that he'd be happy I was pregnant. I smiled at the thought. Somehow, despite everything, things with Jax seemed to be moving along better than I could have ever anticipated.
I shook my head, trying to clear my mind so I could get back to the case. Dark brown hair. Bloody jersey. Gun. Right. Who else would be able to get ahold of one of Jax's jerseys? Who was I missing?
Something pinged in the back of my head. Coach Allen had access to the players' jerseys. In fact, he had access to the entire locker room. His hair, though thinner than Jax's, was dark brown. Was it possible....?
I looked at the paperwork Emily and I had filled out when we'd found the gun in the vent behind Jax's locker. That information had come to us from an anonymous tip. At the time, I'd wondered who would know enough about the case to tip us off, but I'd gotten sidetracked with everything else going on and had never gone back to it. If the murderer was trying to frame Jax, it made sense that he would've been the one to call in the tip. He'd want to make sure that we found the gun.
Officer Wilson had taken the phone call when the tip came in. I looked at his report now. "The gun is in a vent behind Jax Ryder's locker, number 105." The tipster had correctly identified Jax's locker number, but something wasn't right. I sat with my head in my hands, thinking.
"Bingo!" I shouted, lifting my head up. A feeling of triumph flittered through my chest. I jumped out of my chair and ran into Jax's bedroom, flipping on the light and jumping on top of him.
45
Jax
"Wake up!" Treena shouted, shaking me. She kissed my face, and my eyes opened, groggy but not so groggy that I couldn't see Treena was excited about something.
"Ready for round two?" I asked. My grin turned into a yawn.
"No," Treena shook her head. Her eyes were lit up. "Jax, what's your locker number?"
"What?" I asked, trying to shake myself awake. "My locker number? Um..." She kissed me again and my head cleared. "Fifty-five. Wait, no, I mean 105."
"That's right," she screeched. "But the first time we searched your locker, it was fifty-five. It was only when we found the gun that it was 105."
I stared blankly at her. "So?"
"Jax, when did you switch lockers? And why?" Her face was practically glowing she was so excited.
"Coach Allen thought I should. He suggested it after you searched my locker the first time. Said he was afraid the guys were gonna start messing with my stuff and I ought to move it to another locker and not tell anyone."
"So the only one who knew you switched lockers is..."
"Coach Allen."
Treena's eyes opened wide. "Coach Allen..." she murmured to herself now. "I never even considered... Fuck me! I've been wrong all this time!" She clamored off the bed and started pulling her clothes on. She looked like she was trying to do a jig as she wriggled into her pants.
"Wait," I said. “You don't think... you don't think that Coach Allen killed Penny, do you?"
She nodded. "That's exactly what I think."
"Treena," I yelled, springing up beside her. "That's ridiculous! Coach Allen is—"
"Jax, he's the only one who knew your new locker number. You said so yourself. When we got the tip about where to find the gun, the tipster said, 'Behind Jax Ryder's locker, number 105.' "
My chest began to tighten.
"He did?"
"Yes. And think about it. Who has better access to your locker and the locker room than Coach Allen? He's there before you guys arrive; he's there after you leave. He's at the stadium more than anyone else, isn't he?"
Although I hated to admit it, Treena had a point.
"Yeah, but why would Coach kill Penny?" I asked. I could almost wrap my mind around the idea of Coach Allen killing someone—almost—but without a motive, I was afraid my brain would turn to sludge. I just couldn't handle it.
"I have a theory on that," she said, "but I'm not sure I can prove it. Not yet, anyway."
"Can you tell me what it is?" I asked. "It's not that I don't believe you, but I need a little more to convince me. I've known Coach for a while now. He's a good guy. He's always come to bat for me whenever I was in trouble. Hell, if it wasn't for him, I'd have gotten kicked off the team last season, for sure."
Treena was just shaking her head. She put her blazer on, and I grabbed hold of her shoulders, spinning her toward me. "Treena, come on. Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."
She beamed back at me. "If I'm right, Jax, then I just solved the case, and you're off the hook. This is the missing piece of information I needed. I'm your get out of jail free card, and I need you to trust me."
"I do trust you," I told her, my heart hammering in my chest. God, she was hot when she was fired up like this. Her eyes burned into me, and I was sorry that she was fully dressed. My body started to ache for her, and I told it to calm the fuck down. Judging from that look in her eyes, fun and games were gonna have to wait.
"I need you to do something for me," she said.
"Anything. Name it."
"It's midnight now. Call Coach Allen an hour after I leave here. Tell him you need to meet him at the stadium at two."
"Two in the morning? You want me to go to the stadium in the middle of the night?"
"No," she said, matter-of-factly. The cop in her was surfacing. "I just want you to tell him that. I need to get him alone at the stadium. The middle of the night is the best time to do that. There's no practice, and the custodial and security staff will be limited." She paused, breathing deeply. "Will you call him for me?"
"Treena," I said, taking a calming breath. "This doesn't sound safe. If Coach really is the murderer, then you shouldn't be meeting him anywhere in the middle of the night. Especially alone."
"I'll be fine," she said, her lips tightening.
"It's not just you anymore. You're carrying my child. I want to make sure you're b
oth safe."
Treena looked down at her stomach. The fact that she was pregnant had clearly slipped her mind for a minute. I put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I'll go with you," I told her.
"Uh-uh," she said, shaking her head. "No way. It's even less safe for you than it is for me."
"How do you figure that?"
"Because if anything goes wrong, it's you who's gonna wind up back in a jail cell. I don't want the father of my baby in jail."
Her eyes turned liquid, and her mouth formed a seductive pout.
"I'm not letting you go down there alone," I said. "It's not up for discussion."
"I won't be alone," she said. "I'll get Emily and Anderson. They'll be right there with me. I promise, I'll be okay."
"If anything goes wrong... if Coach hurts you... I'll kill him," I whispered.
Treena's eyes widened. "Don't kill him yet," she said, trying to sound playful. "We need his confession. Once we get that, then you can kill him." She paused, licking her lips. "I'm doing this, Jax, with or without your cooperation. I'd prefer with."
I sighed. "You're not gonna give this up, are you?"
"No. Too much is riding on it."
I kissed her lips. They were warm and inviting. "I guess if I'm gonna be in a relationship with a cop, I'm gonna have to deal with you putting yourself in danger. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. What do you want me to tell Coach?"
46
Treena
I called Emily from my car, so she was ready and waiting for me when I arrived at her apartment.
"I pulled out what I had on hand," Emily said. "It's been a while since I used this stuff."
"I'm just grateful that you had anything lying around at all. I wasn't sure that listening monitors were something you'd even have."
"Keith gave me one to practice with when I was studying for my last exam." Her face reddened. "I still can't believe that idiot. I told him I was mad at him for suspending you, and do you know what he said?"
I waited for her to finish, wishing we could speed this up a bit. I hadn't come here to talk about Anderson, but she was doing me a favor and I didn't want to ruffle any feathers.
"He said that I had my priorities all wrong. He actually called me a bird-brain! Can you believe that? A bird-brain! Isn't that the most childish thing you've ever heard?"
I had to admit, it did sound pretty childish.
"He texted me an hour later, saying he was sorry. But I told him it was too little, too late."
"Better to find out he's a jerk now, while you can still get out without getting hurt."
Her blush deepened. "Yeah... without getting hurt..."
I wondered if maybe Emily liked Anderson a little more than I'd given her credit for. Her eyes looked a little too misty.
"I'm sorry to have to ask you to do this," I told her. "If anyone asks you about it later, tell them I forced you to help me."
"I'm not gonna lie. You need my help, and I'm offering it to you."
"Yeah, but I'm suspended. You could get into a lot of trouble."
"That's for me to worry about. I know what I'm doing, and I'm aware of the consequences. If you're right—and I think you are—then an innocent man is getting railroaded for a crime he didn't commit. I can't just let that slide."
A lump formed in the back of my throat. "I'm sorry that I ever thought you could have been involved with killing Penny." Now that I'd figured things out, I felt bad for ever doubting Emily, especially when she'd been the only one in the department who was ever nice to me.
She pursed her lips a moment before responding. "I know how crazy being a cop can get. And I know how crazy Jax Ryder can make you. You were right... I was hung up on Jax for a long time. I don't think it was until recently that I realized I might be hung up on someone new."
I took a deep breath. "Anderson's not so bad, I guess." The words tasted funny on my tongue. "I mean, at least he's not the killer."
"Yeah, but he's still responsible for a lot of other things I'd rather not think about just now." She tried to smile reassuringly at me. "Let's test this thing out. Make sure it still works."
I nodded as I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it on Emily's couch. We spent a few minutes going over the equipment together before Emily taped the wires to my body.
"You need a looser shirt than what you wore over here," Emily said, "otherwise, it'll be obvious you're hiding something. Be right back." She returned a moment later holding a blue blouse. I pulled it over my head and put my jacket back on.
"Perfect," Emily said, eyeing me appraisingly.
I looked at myself in the mirror and agreed that you couldn't tell I was covering anything with my clothes.
"Now, go upstairs," Emily said. "Let's test this thing out."
I went up to the roof of Emily's building and sang “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” for five minutes while walking around. When I got back to her apartment, she gave me a big smile and a thumb's up.
"You heard me?" I asked.
"Every word. You could really use some voice lessons."
I giggled and took a long sip of water, trying to wet my drying throat. Nothing seemed to quench my thirst, though. I knew it was nerves. My phone buzzed at me, and the screen lit up. I checked my text messages.
Calling Coach now.
"That was Jax. I better get going."
"Are you sure Coach Allen will meet you there?" Emily asked. "It is the middle of the night."
"If I'm right, Coach Allen is a greedy bastard who wants Jax gone. If he thinks the only way to get rid of Jax is to meet him at the stadium, he'll do it. Especially if Jax dangles a little money in front of him."
Emily grunted. "Sounds like a scumbag."
"What about you?" I asked. "Do you think you'll be able to persuade Anderson to help us?"
"Oh I'll persuade him, alright," Emily said, her eyes glowering. "I was waiting until this whole thing with Jax was over before I confronted him about the detective exams—I didn't want him thinking we were onto him—but now that I know he's not the murderer, I'm not above a little blackmail. He could get into a lot of trouble if it came out he failed me on purpose. I'll make sure he knows that if he wants me to keep my mouth shut, he better damned well help us."
I thanked my lucky stars that Emily was on my side in this. I wouldn't want her as an enemy.
"Alright," I said. "I guess this is it."
Emily nodded. "You'll be fine. I'll be right behind you. And Keith will be right behind me... if he knows what's good for him." We gave each other a quick hug, and I hurried to the stadium.
47
Jax
The phone rang six times before I finally hung up. Shit. Now what?
He must've turned his ringer off before going to bed. Why hadn't we thought of that? I knew Coach better than that, though. If his phone was turned off, it was the first time in a year. He was fanatical about keeping it turned on and the ringer turned up so he never missed a call. He used to say, "What if it's the lottery people calling to tell me I've won a hundred million dollars?" We all knew he was kidding –NFL coaches weren’t exactly hard up for cash—but I'd never seen him with his phone off, even during a game.
I wondered if I should text Treena that he wasn't answering. I didn't want to let her down, though. I tried the number again. This time he picked up on the first ring.
"Hello?" Coach grumbled into his phone. His voice was hoarse. He must've been asleep.
"Coach Allen?"
"Jax? Is that you?"
"Yeah. I need to talk to you."
I heard a female voice start screeching on the other end.
"Who the hell is calling you at this hour?" the woman yelled. Her voice was high and nasally and hurt my ears. "You get off that phone now! I need my beauty sleep." I felt bad for Coach. If that was his wife, no wonder he'd gone off the deep end. A voice like that could drive anyone to murder.
"It's no one," Coach said, holding his hand over the receiver so his
voice was muffled. "Just one of the players. He's having an emergency."
"Well, you tell him to call back at a decent hour," she whined. "It's much too late for an emergency."
I heard sheets ruffle as Coach got out of his bed and plodded down the hall to another room.
"Jax?" he asked. "You still there?"
"Still here," I told him. "Sorry about waking up your wife."
"Eh, whatever. No amount of beauty sleep is gonna help her, no matter what she might think."
I'd heard Coach make the odd remark here and there about his wife's nagging or her attitude, but I'd always thought they were nothing more than a husband griping about some of the little annoyances that came with marriage. Hearing him talk about her now—and listening to the exchange between them—I wondered if Coach even liked his wife, let alone loved her.
"So, what do you need, Jax? Why are you calling?"
I cleared my throat. I'd spent the last hour rehearsing what I was gonna say to him.
"I decided that you were right. I'm leaving the country. Tonight."
"Good!" Coach said. The excitement in his voice irritated the hell out of me.
"I need to see you before I go," I told him.
I could hear the hesitation in his voice. "Why?" he asked.
"I'm leaving all my stuff behind. My house... my cars... I need to make sure that someone will be there to take care of it for me." I could almost hear him thinking. "No one else knows I'm going," I continued. "You're the only one I can trust."
There was silence on his end.
"Also, I thought I'd leave my Ferrari with you. I can sign the title over to you tonight. I figure if I do that, the courts won't be able to take it from me later since it'll be in your name."
"Your Ferrari?" Coach asked. He'd always admired my car. He'd had a similar one before his ex-wife had taken it from him in their divorce. "When do you want to meet?"