“Roy Peters. And when would be a better time, exactly?” he snapped, his face reddening. “When he's going up against the death penalty?”
“Hold on now.”
Jenny stepped up to him, never one to back down from an argument.
“You have no right to barge in here and try to force a conversation about my good-for-nothing brother. What he's done…”
“That's just it,” Roy interrupted, pointing a finger in her face. “He hasn't done anything. He’s been set up.”
“Don't be absurd!” Jenny said, pushing his finger away angrily. “Who would have any reason to set up my brother?”
“The very people he worked for. Did you ever think about that?”
Jenny was confused and wished Roy Peters would turn around and walk out the door and back to where he had come from.
“You're his sister. Surely you're wondering why he would suddenly go this far? You can't honestly believe that he would commit such a crime, can you? And his own wife, at that.”
“It's because he is always guilty. He's my brother, and I know from experience. He is always found guilty, and he always will be. If he weren’t guilty, the police wouldn't have arrested him in the first place.”
Roy laughed in a way that made her skin crawll. It was he thought she were being absurd.
“You can't honestly be that naïve.”
Jenny folded her arms over her chest and stared him down, willing herself not to break underneath his steely glare. It had been too long a day, and no doubt there would be more to come in dealing with the fallout of her brother's actions. She burned with hatred for Joey, for what he had done in stealing the precious life of her friend, his wife, Isabelle’s mother. It was a cruel injustice.
For this stranger to march in and throw such accusations around was ridiculous and out of line.
Jenny suddenly realized the door was still open and pointed to it, hoping he would take the hint and get the hell out.
His face was shadowed with anger as he stepped back outside.
Just as she was about to slam the door behind him, he put his foot back inside the door frame.
“You are completely wrong, you know. He's innocent. And even if I have to do it alone, I'll prove it.”
“Then you can just go right ahead.”
“Have you even seen him yet?”
“I don't need to see Joey to know he's guilty as sin.”
She slammed the door, securing it quickly behind him. Leaning against the wall, she willed her nerves to settle. As she regained her breath, she heard the soft click of the living room door closing.
Isabelle had been listening to the whole thing.
Roy Peters trudged back to his busted up, green truck.
What a stupid, stupid woman, he thought. Roy cursed heavily under his breath. This had been a big waste of time.
Joey had never mentioned his sister, and now Roy understood why he hadn't. The woman he just met was as naive as they came and completely disloyal. He hadn't known what to expect when he decided to approach Jenny about Joey’s innocence, but he thought she would be more receptive than that.
If one of his siblings had been accused of such a vile crime, Roy would swear in court that they were innocent, no questions asked. He would fight tooth and nail to prove their innocence. That this woman had accepted her brother’s guilt without a second thought infuriated him.
Joey and Chloe had problems, but what couple didn't? They could fight for days if the mood struck them, but never once had he known his friend to lay a hand on his wife. In fact, Joey would be one of the last men to ever do something like that. As far as police officers went, Joey was one of the good ones, and there was a real shortage of good ones, especially in this town.
* * *
Roy was angry that night as he lay in bed. No woman had ever infuriated him as much as Jenny had that day.
Man, what a bitch, he thought, as he lay tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep.
Someone should teach her some manners.
He imagined lifting her tiny frame in his powerful arms and throwing her over his shoulder.
He imagined being the one who knocked some sense into her.
He’d carry her right into the bedroom and throw her down on the bed.
“Roy,” she’d cry.
He smiled, despite his anger, at the thought of her looking up at him, her infuriating, defiant eyes bright and flashing.
As he pictured himself looking down at her, breathing heavily in anger, his hand started to creep down toward his crotch. He grabbed his cock, which was thick and large in his hand, even though it was still semi-soft, and imagined what Jenny’s breasts looked like.
He pictured himself ripping her clothing off, tearing it to shreds as he tore it from her body and flung it on the ground.
“How dare you,” she’d say.
She was always saying things like that. Things that sought to put her in control of the situation.
How would she like it if he took control for a while.
He felt his cock stiffen and throb in his fist at the thought of how mad she’d be if anyone, least of all him, took control of her.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he’d say to her.
Despite her fury, one look in his eyes would tell her he meant business.
She’d do as she was told and get on her hands and knees.
“Good girl,” he’d say. “Was that so difficult.”
“Fuck you, Roy.”
“Fuck me? Why yes, that’s exactly what you’re about to do.”
She’d turn around, flashing those angry eyes at him, and he wouldn’t care. He’d grab both thighs firmly in his grip and hold her perfect, round ass right in front of him.
She’d struggle a little but her heart wouldn’t really be in it. He knew she’d want this every bit as much as he did. She’d pretend to protest, but really, she’d be wetter than she’d ever been in her life.
He’d lean down and kiss her ass cheeks, each in turn, before running his tongue down the crack of her ass.
“Roy!” she’d gasp.
She wouldn’t be used to this kind of treatment, but she’d like it.
He felt his cock throb, fully erect now in his powerful hand. He stroked it, gently at first, but harder and faster as his fantasy took over his imagination.
He’d slide his wet tongue over her asshole, pressing it against her rosebud, making her squirm in anticipation for what was coming.
“What are you doing?”
He’d smile and say nothing, just sliding his tongue over the mouth of her pussy, and then sliding it right inside, as deep as it could go.
“Oh my god,” she’d moan.
He’d make out with her pussy, sliding his tongue in and out of it, and then make out with her asshole, trying to make her squirm. Trying to make her blush. He was supposed to be teaching her a lesson after all!
When she was really soaking wet, dying for release, practically begging him to fuck her, he’d reach up and slap her ass as hard as he could.
“Ouch,” she’d protest, and that’s when he’d rise up and press the head of his massive cock against her pussy lips.
“Roy,” she’d moan. “Do it, please.”
He’d toy with her, tease her, taunt her. He’d press his head into her pussy, just the first inch of his massive cock, and let her imagine the pleasure she was about to feel.
“You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you?” he’d say.
“Yes,” she’d say.
“And you know what we do to naughty girls?”
She’d nod, but she’d be wrong.
Not so fast, Jenny.
He’d pull his cock out of her pussy lips and lean back down, this time focusing all his attentions on her beautiful, virgin asshole. He’d slide his tongue over it. Then he’d press his tongue into it, making out with it. She’d squirm in embarrassment, mortified at what he was doing to her, but secretly she’d want it. She’d be dying for it.
“Roy, fuck me. Fuck my tight little asshole.”
He almost came just imagining her saying those words.
When her asshole was all wet and slippery and ready for him, he’d rise back up and grab a butt cheek in each hand. He’d grip her tightly, leaving her no room for maneuver, and press his cock against her asshole.
At first, he wouldn’t be able to enter. She’d be too tight. She’d squirm and resist.
But he’d be patient with her. He’d take his time.
He didn’t want to hurt her, just show her that he was in charge.
He’d press his cock against her, and if it didn’t fit, he’d slide in a finger. Just the tip at first, and then more and more of it. He’d slide it in and out, lubricating her thoroughly with his saliva.
She’d squirm against his finger, begging it to fuck her ass, and as she got looser and more ready, he’d bend back down and make out with her asshole again. He’d press his tongue inside her, loosening her, taunting her, bringing her to the point where she was ready to cum.
Then he’d rise back up, grip her ass tightly in his large, powerful hands, and then carefully slide the full length and girth of his cock deep into her asshole.
“Oh, Roy,” she’d cry, and he’d slide all the way in, and then all the way back out.
In and out, again and again, he’d slide. Each time, she’d moan louder, and his cock would throb harder. He’d be growing inside her with each thrust, his cock getting ready for its moment of climax.
As he fucked her in the ass, he’d maintain his powerful grip of her, leaving her in no doubt that he was the one who was in charge.
He’d thrust and thrust, harder and harder, faster and faster, until the pleasure became so unbearable that he’d cry out her name.
“Jenny, oh my god, you’re an angel.”
He’d scream as he came.
His cock would explode in ecstasy, pouring itself deep inside her. With each surge of his orgasm, it would throb and pour more cum into her, until he was completely spent.
Then, as his cock was pumping its cum into her, he’d reach around to her clit and start stroking it rapidly. The fingers of his other hand would reach around and fuck her pussy, in and out, over and over, until she was screaming also as wave after wave of orgasm crashed through her.
“Oh, daddy,” she’d coo when he was finished.
“You’ve been a naughty girl,” he’d say.
“Oh, yes I have, daddy. But you taught me some manners.”
Roy was breathless in his bed. He looked down under the sheets and realized he’d just cum all over his hand. The sheets were soaking with the mess he’d made.
But he didn’t care.
He did feel a little guilty, however! How could he allow himself to have thoughts like that about his best friend’s sister! It just wasn’t right.
There was a code of ethics among men like him, and fucking your best friend’s sister in the ass to teach her some manners certainly crossed the line!
And what was worse, he knew he wanted to do it for real!
He rolled over and fell into a very deep, very satisfying slumber.
* * *
The next day, Isabelle was content to occupy herself with her toys and books in her room. The peace meant Jenny could spend the morning in the kitchen after breakfast.
The pile of breakfast dishes was still spread out on the kitchen counter. In time, she would have to bring some sense of organization to the house. But not yet.
Earlier that morning, when Jenny hadn't been able to sleep and Isabelle was tucked away in her room, Jenny tiptoed down to the living room to place a call to Chief Cartright.
It wasn't that she didn't want Isabelle, she just had trouble believing that she could be the only option available to raise her. Didn't Isabelle have grandparents who would embrace her with open arms? Ones who didn't have important jobs and fulfilling lives in New York?
The Chief assured her he would come around soon to better explain the situation. He had sounded busy and short, as if her call were exactly as selfish as the back of her mind kept telling her it was.
When he eventually arrived in a dusty squad car, Jenny put on her now familiar fake smile and invited him into the kitchen.
“In response to your earlier inquiry,” Chief Cartright removed his hat and set it down on the counter. “I'm afraid I have to tell you that the grandparents won’t be able to take on the child. They're in a nursing home.
Jenny could tell from the look on his face that he suspected she might not be particularly fit herself.
“I just wondered, is all.”
Jenny set about preparing coffee, grateful to have found a pack of pecan tarts in one of the cupboards in time for his arrival. Eager to change the subject, she moved onto last night's surprise visitor.
“What do you know about Roy Peters?” Jenny asked the Chief as she poured the hot water into two mugs.
Chief Cartright paused, a crumbling pecan tart in mid-reach.
“What about him? Has he been causing you any problems?”
“He stopped by last night.”
Jenny handed the Chief a mug of steaming coffee.
“If he's been bothering you, I can do something about that. He's already been warned not to spread his filthy lies about town.”
“It's fine.”
Jenny dropped two sugar cubes into her coffee and stirred it thoughtfully.
“He had a lot to say about my brother, Joey, and his supposed innocence.”
“He's been running that racket around town since we arrested your brother. They used to be very close. They were partners on the force together before we had to let him go for his anger issues.”
Chief Cartright sighed heavily as he readjusted his weight in the soft couch cushions.
“Like I said, we've given him a warning already, and he didn’t take it well.”
“He did say something about my brother being set up.”
“Well, that is just nonsense talk, of course. Everyone in this town knew your brother, and I can't think of a single person who would have gone out of their way to do that.”
He grunted out of frustration.
“We wouldn't have arrested him unless we had due cause. You must know that.”
“Right.” Jenny felt foolish for mentioning the visit to him in the first place. “I'm sorry to have brought it up. Obviously, I believe that you arrested the right man.”
The chief grunted in agreement as if he, too, felt it was a foolish notion to even be discussing such a thing. He took a generous bite of his pecan tart as he studied her face with his steely blue gaze.
“You don't doubt that we arrested the right man, do you?”
“Of course not.”
She reached for a pecan tart herself, anything to keep her hands from shaking in her lap.
“Why would I doubt you? That would be foolish. I know the kind of guy my little brother is.”
Except, she didn't know anymore. It had been two years since she had last seen him. All she knew about Joey was what she knew about him growing up together as children and what she’d learned from her semi-regular phone conversations with Chloe.
It would be foolish to doubt the police, right?
Chapter 5
Roy Peters closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
It was silent except for the rush of water draining from his shower head. The best sound in the world, if you asked him.
His small cabin was built on the outskirts of town with his own two hands roughly five years ago, immediately following his return from the army. His head was full of memories, and with it came the strong desire to keep those memories from doing him in.
He had taken up with the loveliest girl in town, a gem, Natalie Reed. He swept her off her feet in an instant, grateful to have someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life. Love, he thought, was going to keep him going strong. It would also serve to keep t
hose memories of a life gone by far at bay.
They married within months, far too wrapped up in their hearts and hopes to consider what the future could hold for them. He'd took on a job as a police officer at the local station, and she got a part-time job at the bakery.
He built this cabin the following summer to house them and their future family.
And then, in an instant, their blessed lives took a dramatic turn, from which he'd never recover.
They'd fought, and although it was a rarity, it was one for the books, as his mother would have said, were she still living. She left for her folks’ house out of town, and when she was going, he told her he was glad. “Peace,” he had shouted at her angrily as she hauled her bag out to her truck. “Finally!”
The next morning, before the sun had risen over the lake, he heard a distinct knock at the door. He thought it was her, hoped that it was, as he stumbled shirtless to the door to allow her re-entry and ask for forgiveness.
But the officer at the door, a grave look on his face, said it all. His precious wife was gone forever.
Roy had remained angry ever since.
He reached for the knobs and turned off the shower abruptly. Those memories were getting harder to suppress.
* * *
That afternoon, Jenny took Isabelle out to run errands, a diversion that would get them out of the house for a much-needed change of scenery. They'd existed mostly in an awkward silence since they'd returned to the house, and Jenny was anxious to make some progress with the relationship.
Isabelle, as always, remained quiet. She followed Jenny like a nervous shadow, staying close but not willing to risk looking like she belonged to the strange woman.
Jenny was fine with the child's shadow-like strategies. It was the looks she was getting from the other town folk that made her feel uneasy. They stared openly and whispered among themselves, obviously finding her a good source of gossip. Not that she wouldn't have had something to say if she had been in their shoes.
Joey was well-known for his misadventures. She could only imagine what they expected her to be like.
It was times like this that she craved the anonymity of the city.
The faces that peered from shop doorways and from passing cars were unfamiliar. Like Jenny, most of her childhood friends had left Ombrea as soon as it was humanly possible.
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