by Rita Herron
“I’m not trying to,” the man yelled.
Avery’s heart pounded, but she turned on the lamp by the chair. A soft light washed over the room, and she stared in shock at the man lying on the floor with Jaxon straddling him.
“Jaxon, stop,” she whispered.
He swung his gaze up toward her, his eyes feral. “What?”
Avery stood on shaky legs, walked over and looked down at the man. It had been over twenty years since she’d seen him.
His face was weathered, wrinkled, and age spots dotted his bald head.
But she would never forget his face or those twisted eyes.
“Avery?” Jaxon said.
“Tell him to let me go,” the man growled.
Jaxon jerked the man by the collar.
“It’s okay, Jaxon,” Avery said. “You can release him. He’s Roth Tierney, my father.”
* * *
JAXON SHOT THE man below him a sinister look. He could feel Avery trembling beside him. “You’re Avery’s father?”
The bald man grunted a yes.
Jaxon cursed. “Then why the hell did you break in and attack her?”
“I just wanted to talk to her.” He gestured at Jaxon’s hands, which were still planted firmly on the man’s chest where he was sitting on him to hold him down. “Now let me up.”
Jaxon glanced at Avery and saw the bewilderment and hurt on her face, firing his anger even more. “Just don’t touch her again,” he warned.
The beefy man’s eyebrows shot up, but Jaxon ignored them. As far as he knew, Avery’s old man hadn’t been part of her life in years. And he was the reason she and her brother had ended up in foster care in the first place.
But he yanked the man by his collar, then climbed off him and moved to stand beside Avery. He planted his feet firmly in place, arms folded, daring the man to approach her.
No one was ever going to hurt Avery again.
Avery’s raspy breathing punctuated the silence as her father stood. Time had been rough on him. His hands were scarred, a prison tattoo wound across his wrist, his teeth were crooked and yellowed, his hair was gone and he had a paunch.
“What are you doing here, Dad?” Avery asked in a frosty tone.
He brushed off his jeans with his hands. “We need to talk.”
Jaxon cleared his throat and pointed to the sofa. While Tierney walked over and took a seat, he retrieved his gun and stowed it in his holster. Avery claimed the club chair in front of the fireplace, but Jaxon remained standing.
His instincts were on full alert.
“I thought you were still in prison,” Avery said.
Tierney shook his head. “I’ve been out awhile.”
“How long?” Jaxon asked.
Tierney knotted his scarred hands on his thighs. “Since right before Hank went to jail.”
Shock flashed on Avery’s face. “What?”
Tierney studied her for a long moment, then glanced at Jaxon, the air thick with tension. “I’ve been out,” he said. “Well, in and out a few times over the past twenty years.”
Avery’s look flattened. “What do you want? If it’s money, I don’t have any.”
“I don’t want money,” he said. “I came to help you.”
Jaxon scrutinized him. “How do you plan to do that?”
Tierney hissed between his teeth. “Look, Avery, I know you and Hank got sent to foster care ’cause of me, ’cause I killed that man. I screwed up.”
“You tore our family life apart,” Avery said bitterly.
“I know,” Tierney said. “And when I got out on parole, I came looking for you and Hank. I found out you were at the Mulligans and I went there and watched you get on the school bus, watched you and Hank outside.”
Jaxon wondered where this was going.
“You watched us?” Avery asked, her voice laced with unease.
“Yeah.” Tierney dropped his head forward and studied his blunt nails. “I saw what he was doing to you,” he mumbled. “I knew it was my fault. I...wanted to stop him.”
Disbelief registered on Avery’s face.
“What did you do?” Jaxon asked.
Tierney raised his head and looked at Avery, then at Jaxon. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “I broke in the damn house and stabbed the creep.”
Jaxon narrowed his eyes. “You killed Mulligan?”
Tierney nodded, then held out his hands, wrists pressed together in surrender. “You can arrest me now, Sergeant Ward.”
* * *
AVERY’S HEAD WAS reeling from seeing her father again. And here he was, after being absent from her life for twenty years, turning himself in for Wade Mulligan’s murder?
She didn’t know what to believe....
Jaxon wrangled a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket and snapped them around her father’s wrists. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking, if he believed her father, but he looked more than happy to handcuff him.
Mixed emotions pummeled Avery. She wanted to free Hank more than anything. Her father’s arrest might make that possible. She certainly didn’t have any emotional attachment to the man. “If you killed Wade Mulligan, why didn’t you come forward sooner? Why did you let Hank go to prison for life?”
Tierney’s nostrils flared. “Because the stupid boy confessed, and stabbed Mulligan a bunch of times. I...thought maybe he inherited my bad genes, and that he needed to do a little juvy time to straighten him up.” A hefty amount of regret darkened his face. “I never thought he’d be convicted.”
“But he was convicted and is going to be put to death this week,” Avery cried, heart sick that her father would stand by and let Hank suffer. “For heaven’s sake, Hank confessed because he thought I killed Wade Mulligan. He was only protecting me.”
Shock registered on her father’s eyes. Then a string of curse words exploded.
“How could you do that to us?” Avery whispered in a raw voice. “I lost everything that day, and so did Hank.”
He grunted. “I figured he’d do a little time and then they’d let him out. I never expected him to get the death sentence.”
“But when they gave it to him, why didn’t you come forward then? Why wait until a few days before the execution?”
“I know it was wrong, but I’m here now.” Emotions glittered in her father’s eyes, maybe true remorse; then he tightened his jaw and faced Jaxon. “You can take me in now, Sergeant Ward. I’ll confess to everything, and then you can get my son free.”
* * *
JAXON WASN’T CONVINCED Tierney was guilty. His appearance at this late date seemed too...coincidental. Any lawyer would argue that he’d only come forward to save his son from dying.
Then again, if Jaxon could use his confession to get a stay, it would give him more time to investigate and unearth the truth.
Anguish filled Avery’s eyes. Damn. He wanted to sweep her in his arms and comfort her. But Tierney shoved up from the chair, his expression hard as he gestured toward the door.
“Let’s go, Sergeant. Sooner we get this over with, sooner you can get my boy out of prison.”
Jaxon’s dark gaze met the man’s, searching for the truth.
He needed to learn more about Tierney’s prison behavior. What other crimes he might have committed since he said he’d been released.
And why had he been released?
Hell, if he were lying and taking the blame for his son, it was probably the first noble thing he’d ever done in his life.
And Jaxon didn’t intend to stop him. Avery and Hank deserved help, and it was about time their loser old man stepped up.
“Mr. Tierney, you are under arrest for the murder of Wade Mulligan. You have the right to remain silent...” He read Tierney his Miranda rights as he esc
orted him outside to his SUV.
Avery followed him, her arms wrapped around herself, her breathing choppy.
“Stay here and lock the doors,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m going with you.”
Jaxon ground his teeth, but the determined look on Avery’s face warned him not to argue. Hell, how could he blame her?
She hadn’t seen her father in two decades, and now he’d confessed to the murder that had sent her brother to death row. If it were his family, he’d insist on being present to see what happened.
“Wait on me, Jaxon. Let me lock up and grab my coat.”
He gave her a clipped nod. “I’ll be right here.”
Her eyes softened as if she realized he meant that on more than one level.
And he did. Hell, he wanted to erase the pain in those damn gorgeous eyes of hers, and make her smile.
But tonight was bound to be rough. And they had their work cut out for them to convince a judge to postpone the execution.
Worry knitted her brow as if she realized the same thing, then she ran back toward the house.
Jaxon shoved Tierney into the backseat, then leaned across him to buckle his seat belt. “You’d better not be messing with Avery,” he said in a lethal voice. “You’ve hurt her enough already.”
Tierney lifted his head, his bald head pulsing red with anger. For a brief second, his gaze connected with Jaxon’s, though, and Tierney’s eyes flashed with understanding.
“I’m not here to hurt her,” he said in an equally low, lethal tone. “For the first time in my life, I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Whether he meant he was telling the truth about the murder or just trying to save his children, Jaxon didn’t know.
He didn’t care.
He climbed into the front, waited until Avery joined him, then started the engine and drove toward the jail.
Traffic was minimal as he passed through Cherokee Crossing. Most of the residents had settled in for the night, although the cantina was hopping with live music and the diner was still full with the late night supper crowd.
Avery twisted her hands in her lap, obviously grappling with emotions. Her father sat ramrod straight, staring out the window with a resigned look on his face. He’d been down this road before.
Prison was nothing new. Hell, sometimes lifers were released and didn’t know what to do with themselves.
The system didn’t prepare them for life on the outside. And society wasn’t exactly jumping to employ ex-cons. Without a family member or friend providing support and a place to live, they wound up frustrated and failing.
Some even resorted to petty crimes to violate parole so they could go back to jail and have three square meals a day and a place to sleep.
Avery tugged her shawl around her as they got out, and he opened Tierney’s door and escorted him inside. Deputy Kimball looked up from the front desk with a frown.
“Deputy, this is Roth Tierney, Hank Tierney’s father. He just confessed to the murder of Wade Mulligan.”
Jaxon’s phone buzzed, and he checked the caller ID. Dammit—Director Landers.
“Book him and put him in an interrogation room. I need to answer this call. Then we’ll take his statement.”
Deputy Kimball grabbed Tierney’s arm and led him through a set of swinging doors. Avery sank into the chair across from the deputy’s desk, her face ashen.
Jaxon stepped outside for a moment and punched the director’s number.
“What the hell is going on?” Director Landers bellowed. “Snyderman called and said you’re trying to prove Hank Tierney is innocent.”
Jaxon swallowed hard. “I reviewed all the evidence, and I had questions. But there is a problem, Director.”
The director’s hiss punctuated the air. “What?”
“Hank Tierney’s father showed up and confessed that he killed Wade Mulligan.”
The director spewed a dozen curse words. “You’d better put a lid on this right now, Ward. If Tierney’s conviction is questioned, it could cast doubt on every case Snyderman and I worked for the past twenty years.”
He didn’t need another reminder.
But could he drop the case without knowing the truth?
Jaxon glanced through the window and saw Avery tracing that scar around her wrist, and he knew the answer.
He’d risk his job, his life, everything to save her from any more pain. And he would find the truth no matter what happened to him afterward.
Chapter Eighteen
Avery twined her hands together as she settled on the bench in the front room of the sheriff’s office, her thoughts jumbled. She felt just as nervous as she had when she was called to the principal’s office as a child.
Or worse—the way she had the day she sat outside the courtroom with that psychologist waiting to learn her brother’s fate.
That day had ended in disaster and had shredded what was left of her trust in people. And in the system.
Would this day end as badly?
She mentally replayed the conversation with her father at her house, but anxiety needled her.
Had her father really broken in and killed Wade Mulligan?
If so, how had he gotten in without her seeing him?
She distinctly remembered hearing a woman’s voice whisper to her that everything would be all right. Not a man’s.
Although she had been afraid of Mulligan and had hidden under the covers, had repressed memories of most of that night. Maybe her father had been there.
If he’d broken into her room, she would have been frightened by him. She hadn’t seen him since she was four years old, when he’d been incarcerated. She probably wouldn’t have even recognized him.
And a big man climbing in her bedroom window in the dark would have terrified her.
She closed her eyes, desperately pressing her brain to recall more details....
The window screeched open, the wind was blowing, she was cold, so cold she was shaking. She heard his footsteps, heard Wade grumbling about Joleen being gone, smelled cigarette smoke and whiskey...
Knew he was coming for her.
Her skin crawled, and nausea rolled through her. Then she heard Hank yelling at Wade...heard Wade’s fist slamming into Hank. Hank’s grunt of pain. But Hank wasn’t giving up.
He was strong and tried to take care of her. But Wade was big and mean, and he always got what he wanted.
She clenched the sheets, wishing she had some way to fight off Wade. She should have put Hank’s baseball bat under her bed. Maybe she’d get it tomorrow. But that wouldn’t help her tonight.
Hank shouted at Wade, but he must have tied him up because Wade’s footsteps thundered in the hall. Then he burst through her door.
She squinted through the dark and saw his big shadow. Smelled him again.
She thought she was going to be sick. Then he moved toward her....
She screamed but...then everything went dark. Muffled sounds followed. Someone moving. A low voice. A grunt.
A thump. Wade falling?
She was shaking all over. Heard a moan. Wade...
A whisper brushed near her ear. “It’ll be all right now....”
A woman’s voice. Not her father’s.
Then a hand touched her. Soft. Gentle.
The wind swirled cold air through the room. She tugged the quilt down and saw red, red everywhere. Blood...
Wade was on the floor, not moving. She had to get to Hank. She vaulted from the bed and ran toward Wade, had to get past him.
But just as she made it to him, his hand snaked out and grabbed her ankle. She froze, looked down and screamed at the blood on his chest. His eyes were wide, whites bulging, blood oozing from his mout
h.
He jerked her foot and tried to drag her to the floor. Terrified, she spotted the knife and she reached for it....
The door to the front office opened, and Avery jerked her eyes open. Jaxon stood in the doorway, his expression guarded.
She started to say something, but what more could she tell him? She still believed a woman had been in her room. She didn’t remember her father at all....
But she did remember picking up that knife.
Only it was bloody, and Wade was injured before she picked it up. Meaning she hadn’t killed him.
Relief surged through her at that realization, although she still didn’t know the truth.
Because if her memory of that woman was real, the woman killed Wade, not her father.
* * *
JAXON STRODE INTO the sheriff’s office, knowing he might be about to kiss his career goodbye. But the truth—and Avery—meant more to him than the job.
Odd—he’d never felt that way before. Had never thought he would.
But he couldn’t abandon his integrity. If he did, he’d completely lose himself.
“Where did you go?” Avery asked.
“I had a phone call. I’ll take your father’s statement now.”
Avery nodded, although he couldn’t help thinking she looked like a confused, lost child sitting on that bench.
“Can I come with you?”
Jaxon shook his head. “An attorney could argue that your presence affected your father’s statement.”
“I see. All right.”
“Do you want some coffee or something while you wait?”
She shook her head. “Thanks, though.”
She was so polite and humble it aroused tender feelings inside him.
No one had ever taken care of her.
He wanted to change that.
A dangerous place to be, Ward.
Forcing himself back in professional mode, he strode through the double doors to the back and found Deputy Kimball guarding the door to the interrogation room.
“You want me in there?” the deputy asked.
Jaxon hesitated. He didn’t, but it would probably be best to have confirmation that he’d handled the interrogation by the book. He didn’t intend for the confession to get thrown out on a technicality. “You have cameras?”