Got the Life (A Nicki Sosebee Novel)

by Jade C. Jamison

  She’d written down the address on her steno pad. She knew the street, so she headed across town. It was nine o’clock, not too early and—thank goodness—not too hot yet. She’d dressed more conservatively today. First, because she was going to be interviewing an alleged felon, and she didn’t need to give him any ideas. Second, because she was going to the DA’s office after, and she knew she’d never be taken seriously if she couldn’t cover her tits and thighs. So she wore a dark blue pantsuit with a sleeveless white blouse and low white heels. She had her hair pulled into a loose bun and wore two tiny gold post earrings.

  When she pulled up to the address, she locked her purse in the car and dropped her car keys in her jacket pocket. The only other things she took were her pad and pen and press card. She took a deep breath. She still didn’t feel like a full-fledged reporter yet, but she knew just doing it was the training she needed.

  She made sure her stride was confident as she walked up the sidewalk to the door. The lawn was really just a little bit of grass, some green, some yellow, mixed with ragweeds and crabgrass, and there was a big plastic toy car, one that a child could sit in, tilted on its side. There was a gray garden hose with a sprinkler on its end, but Nicki doubted it had been used much. On the other side of the lawn was a child’s plastic swimming pool, but dirt covered the bottom. It hadn’t been used this summer either.

  She reached the door and pressed the doorbell. She heard it ring inside and heard commotion inside. “Goddammit, mom, can you get the door?”

  This was going to be pleasant.

  The temperature might have only been in the low seventies but Nicki felt the sweat beginning to bead up under her bun and behind her collar. She knew it was her nerves, but she reminded herself she could charm people. She just had to be polite. Surely Edwards wanted to tell his side of the story.

  At last, the doorknob turned. The screen door remained closed while an older woman with dark hair streaked with gray opened the inner door. The woman’s face was lined and covered in small brown age spots. Nicki thought that—with the cocky little shit of a son who was ordering her around—it was no surprise she wasn’t aging gracefully. Nicki recognized her as one of the people sitting at Edwards’s arraignment. The woman seemed to evaluate Nicki in the swoop of her eyes. Girls like Nicki didn’t grace her doorstep every day. When she didn’t speak, Nicki said, “Hi. I’m reporter Nicki Sosebee with the Winchester Tribune, and I’d like to interview Jason Edwards if that’s possible.”

  The woman drew in a breath, ready to speak, but was interrupted by none other than Edwards himself. He had grasped the edge of the wooden door, just his presence making his mother move over. His face got close to the screen. Shit. He was even better looking up close. And, God, he had a pierced eyebrow too, something Nicki hadn’t seen in court on Tuesday. But—good-looking or not—he was more trouble than he’d ever be worth to any girl, Nicki could tell just from the temper causing his face to turn red. “What the fuck do you want to know?”

  Nicki drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t expected him to be so…violent. But what did she expect from someone accused of arson? She forced her sweetest smile. “I just wondered if you wanted to tell your side of the story.”

  “What story? The one where they’re saying I set fire to that house?”

  She nodded and looked down at her notes. “Yes. They’ve charged you with four counts of arson and one count of criminal mischief. But you’re innocent until proven guilty. So my job is to provide readers with both sides of the story.”

  Edwards grabbed his crotch, a silver skull ring on his middle finger glinting in the sunlight that fell in the doorway, and said, “You can tell your readers to suck it.”

  That was it. If he wanted to be rude, she could be rude back. Nicki held her pen to her pad and asked, “Can I quote you?”

  She stepped back when Edwards threw the screen door open, and it barely missed clipping her. “You think that’s funny?”

  She continued backing up when she heard a voice in the doorway. “Hey, man, she’s cool. Back off.”

  “She’s a puta, Carlos. I don’t need this kind of trouble.”

  Carlos stepped out of the house, placing his hand on Edwards’s shoulder, stopping the volatile man’s progress. “She’s cool. I know her.” Edwards looked at Carlos, a sneer on the younger man’s face. “She’s just doing her job.” At last, Carlos made eye contact with Nicki. She could see the questions in his eyes, but she knew there was no way he going to let Edwards harm her. She was grateful for that. Carlos said, “If you don’t want to answer any questions, you can tell her that. But do you really think it will help your case any if you harass this poor woman?”

  Edwards rolled his eyes. “What-the-fuck-ever.” He looked over at Nicki and flipped her off with both hands. She’d never been looked at with that much contempt before. The sneer on his face reappeared as he said, “No comment.” He turned around, Carlos’s hand dropping from his shoulder as he walked back to the house. “Bitch.”

  Great. So now she was a bitch in multiple languages. And that was after being called sweet in Spanish just earlier that morning. How things changed.

  Carlos turned around, watching Edwards reenter the house. He walked closer to Nicki, a small smile on his face, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder. “So, I take it this is one of your other jobs?”

  Chapter Nine

  THERE WAS NO question in Nicki’s mind: Edwards was guilty as hell. Too bad she had to be balanced and fair in her reporting. She’d love to tell the fair citizens of Winchester exactly what she thought about the man.

  She knew she’d been lucky Carlos was there. So apparently Edwards’s family were the friends Carlos had in Winchester. Carlos rushed her out of there, but not without giving her one last kiss at her car. He said he liked her outfit as he shut her door, then walked to the sidewalk again, waving her off.

  What was Carlos’s connection to Edwards? Did it matter? She looked at her car clock as she drove away. She still had over an hour before her appointment with the Assistant DA. She didn’t want to just sit in their lobby waiting for an hour, so she decided to get a coffee at the Winchester Café and read the Colorado Springs paper, the Gazette.

  She ordered a venti caramel macchiato and found the paper. She sat in a corner, away from the glare of the sun. She wanted to see if the Springs’ paper had anything about the Edwards case. She spent half an hour browsing through the paper and found nothing. She wasn’t surprised, though. Edwards was back in Winchester County, and Colorado Springs had enough of its own crime and misery than to follow the story here. Besides, nothing had really happened yet: Edwards had pleaded not guilty and was out on bail. To a big paper like the Gazette, it was no big deal.

  She felt wired leaving the café. Should’ve ordered the grande instead. The sugar and caffeine had her hyped up, but it was just as well. She’d been feeling tired before the coffee. That darned Carlos keeping her up most of the night.

  She grinned. She’d do it again if given the choice.

  She arrived at the District Attorney’s office ten minutes early and told the receptionist that she had an appointment with Paul Sanders. The receptionist asked her to have a seat and she picked up her phone.

  Nicki turned around, taking in the lobby. It wasn’t much to look at—beige carpet, off-white vinyl chairs, and a wooden coffee table that looked out of place. There were several magazines on it, but she didn’t feel like reading. She reviewed her notes and the questions she’d written and felt prepared when Assistant DA Sanders opened the door. “Ms. Sosebee?” She stood, smiling and extending her hand. Sanders managed a weak smile in return but did give her a firm handshake. “Follow me.”

  As Nicki followed Sanders down the hall, she was pleased to notice that the employee area was better cared for than the lobby. Sanders’s office was plain—off-white walls, mahogany desk, three chairs, and a well-stocked bookshelf along one wall—but functional…and neat. He had a desk calendar, a pen, and tw
o file folders on his desk, along with a phone and PC. That was it. And everything was aligned in square angles—there was nothing just strewn on his desk; everything had been purposefully placed.

  So this guy was anal.

  That told Nicki to be to the point…no chit-chat, no niceties. She thought she could manage. Sanders said, “So you have some questions about the Edwards case, is that right?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Detective Wright told me I’d have to speak with your office about the case.”

  His lips pursed together. Sanders seemed to be a humorless sort of guy. Nicki guessed this because he had a severe line between his eyebrows but no laugh lines by his lips. His brown hair was thinning and almost nonexistent on top of his head, and he wore round wire-rimmed glasses. “Well, as you know, we have charged him with one count of criminal mischief and four counts of first-degree arson.” She nodded. “What else would you like to know?” He paused. “Have you seen the arrest affidavit?”

  She paused, forcing herself to keep her mouth closed. Arrest affidavit? And why hadn’t the kind Detective Wright offered that to her? Asshole. She finally spoke. “No, I haven’t seen it.”

  “I can get you a copy. It would probably answer any questions you might have.” She nodded. Yep. It might. He stood. “I’ll have the secretary make a copy for you. You can still call if you have other questions after reading it.” He handed her his business card.

  She felt so stupid. Sean was going to love hearing about how the cop fucked her over. She probably could have had a great story yesterday if she’d known… The good news? This would never happen to her again. She guessed Neal was right: she was a rookie, and everyone knew it.

  Sanders walked her back out to the lobby. He handed the receptionist a file. “Marla, can you please make copies of the arrest affidavit for Ms. Sosebee?”

  She nodded, then took the file and turned around to the copy machine behind her. Sanders said, “Nice to meet you,” then let the door shut between them.

  Nicki stood by the desk and waited while Marla flipped through the file and then copied two sheets of paper. She turned around and handed them to Nicki. “Thanks,” she said and walked out the door. Now she had a lot of work to do.

  She decided to work at home on her laptop. She got home and changed into a pink tank top and short white shorts and made a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich. Then she sat down and pored through the papers in front of her. She could see the story unfold in front of her eyes. She turned on the laptop, first finding Slipknot’s Iowa CD in the media player and cranking it. She wrote best to Slipknot, and she needed a great story today. So she decided to present what the arrest affidavit told her: She summed up that charges were filed against Edwards (something anyone who’d been reading the paper would know by now), and then she began to nail down the facts of the case thus far. Edwards was the younger half-brother of Michael Sterne, also charged in the case, who had—thus far—eluded capture. As Neal had told Nicki a couple of days ago, the police had an APB out for Sterne’s arrest, but he was not yet in custody.

  According to the arrest affidavit, one Charles Baker of Colorado Springs had fires set to his home two months earlier, and those fires destroyed the house. Charles Baker was dating Sterne’s ex-girlfriend, Melissa Jacobs, the month prior to the fires. The arrest affidavit went on to state that Sterne’s cell phone was pinging off towers in Winchester County on April thirteenth, the day and time of the fires, and Edwards’s phone was pinging off towers in Colorado Springs in return. There were also multiple calls made between the two men during the time of the fires. In March, Sterne had been arrested already with an assault charge. Baker had been visiting Jacobs in Winchester at the time and Sterne had gotten in Baker’s face over it.

  So now Nicki knew how the police had figured it out, but she still didn’t understand why the men were being charged in Winchester instead of in Colorado Springs. She found Paul Sanders’s business card and dialed it on her cell phone. She knew she’d wind up getting the secretary, but maybe he would call her back right away since he’d offered to answer further questions.

  “Assistant DA Sanders.” Well, hello. She had his direct line. This could come in handy.

  She smiled. “Hi, Mr. Sanders. This is Nicki Sosebee. I’ve gone over Jason Edwards’s arrest affidavit, and I do have one question.”

  “Shoot.” Maybe not as humorless as she’d originally imagined. She was glad to hear that.

  “Why are Edwards and his half-brother being charged in Winchester instead of El Paso County?” She cleared her throat. “This is on the record, by the way.”

  She could hear a smile in Sanders’s voice. “I assumed so.” He paused. “Edwards and Sterne are being charged here because Sterne was first arrested when he assaulted Charles Baker. That criminal activity occurred in Winchester County, not El Paso. And, further, the two men planned the arson here in Winchester County as well.”

  Nicki jotted his information down. “How do you know they planned the arson here?”

  Sanders didn’t answer at first. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Didn’t matter—he’d already said it…on the record...so she would quote it. She didn’t have to say how they knew.

  “Is there anything else you think I should know?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Those are the questions I would’ve asked in your shoes.”

  Nicki hoped that Sanders would turn out to be a solid contact in the DA’s office. Even if not, he’d been of immense help today. She finished writing out her story, including at the end that Sanders had refused to comment. She then pounded out a first paragraph that told—in true journalist fashion—the most important but bare-boned facts of the story, and then emailed it to Neal. She followed up with a phone call, letting him know the story was on the way.

  And she still had two hours before she had to go to Napoli, so she decided to go brag to Sean about her killer story.

  Chapter Ten

  NICKI’S CELL PHONE rang just as she was grabbing her purse and heading toward the door. Even though she hadn’t programmed the number into her phone (yet), she recognized the number as Carlos’s. She was curious and paused inside the doorway to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Ah, Nicki, mi dulzura. I wanted to tell you goodbye.”

  “Are you leaving Winchester now?”

  “Yes. I’m already a day behind, but thanks to your friend, I can leave today.” He paused. “I plan to call you next time I’m in town.”

  Nicki smiled. “I’d expect nothing less.” She inhaled. “Maybe I can catch up on my sleep before you come back.”

  She heard him laugh. “I’m in trouble then, because if what we did last night was you tired, I won’t be able to handle you well rested, chica.”

  She giggled. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do.” She heard the rev of a motorcycle. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Carlos.” She hung up the phone, feeling sadder than she would have expected. Of course, Carlos was meant to be one night only and he’d wound up performing an intense encore. Ah, well, he’d been enough fun to take her mind off Sean for a while, and maybe that would be enough to tide her over until she found her next boyfriend. But the poor suckers who played her BFs never stood a chance.

  She arrived at Sean’s garage, glad that she’d changed out of the hot suit. It was blazing out again, and even though it was about ten degrees cooler in Sean’s garage, it was still fucking hot. Sean had Godsmack blaring out of the stereo, so she knew he was in full-on work mode.

  She saw him working on a bike in the back of the shop and goddamn. The boy had his shirt off. How the fuck could she maintain eye contact and have a normal conversation with him if he had his shirt off? As she got closer, she saw that he had a tattoo on his lower back that she’d never seen before. She couldn’t tell what it was and wouldn’t have a chance, because he stood and turned around just as she got closer.

  And the sight of his naked chest took her bre
ath away. He was pure, sweet man, through and through, the ideal for Nicki. Sean might have only been four inches taller than Nicki, but height didn’t make the man. Solid, lean muscle, lovingly cared for, with just a little bit of hair on the chest, dark brown nipples, and a six-pack. Mmmm. That was the ticket. And to think she’d actually caressed that hunk of man there before. But she’d blown it eight long years ago. And she was about to make a total fucking ass of herself now if she couldn’t concentrate. So she forced her silly licentious grin to become a friendly, warm smile. It was one of the hardest things she’d had to do in a while. “Well, you sure impressed the shit out of Carlos today.”

  “He should be.” Why did Sean look so…pissed? He walked over to the stereo and turned the music down. Probably a good idea, since “Re-Align” was ending and the next song, “I Fucking Hate You,” wouldn’t make the rest of the businesses on the block very happy. As he turned back around, Nicki noticed it for the first time—his bike…his obsession…was gone.

  “What the fuck, Sean? Where’s your bike?”

  A puff of air escaped his open lips. “Why do you think Carlos is so goddamned impressed?”

  Nicki felt her eyes widen. “You gave him your bike?”