by Mia Taylor
I should have never left in the first place.
She had a bit of money—certainly enough to take her back to the city. She could call Mal when she was there and let him know she was safe.
If I make it there.
Round and round she went in her own head, considering the awful outcomes, but as dusk fell, she had made up her mind.
She was going to go.
Haphazardly gathering her belongings, she grabbed a bag and hurried toward the front entrance—just as the door opened and Braden entered with his younger brother.
Dammit! I missed my chance!
She would have to wait until the morning to go now.
“Going somewhere?” the astute Braden asked and Brynn quickly shook her head.
“I was just going to go for a walk. I was getting cabin fever,” she fibbed in a rush of words. “But now that you’re here, I guess I’ll have some company.”
Both boys eyed her warily and Brynn could smell the doubt on them as their gazes trailed over her knapsack.
“I was going to find a laundromat,” she managed weakly.
“We have a washer and dryer here,” Aiden volunteered and Braden grunted.
“She knew that. She’s lying.”
Brynn bristled at the accusation.
“I’m not lying!” she protested. “I really was going out for a walk. I just thought I would find something to do while I was out.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to go outside,” Aiden offered pointedly and Brynn cringed inwardly.
When did kids get so damned smart? Was I this quick when I was their age?
“You’re right,” Brynn sighed. “I’m not supposed to, but like I said, I really wanted to get out for a bit.”
“You can sit in the backyard!” Aiden offered brightly and Brynn blinked, staring at his face.
Another tentative memory swept through her mind, the image of a toddler boy staring up at her, offering his ice cream to her.
That was Aiden!
A sad smile touched her lips and she nodded.
“That’s a much better idea,” she agreed, dropping her bag by the front door. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.”
“I can show you how to use the washing machine,” Aiden said and Brynn felt the unexpected burn of tears in her eyes.
What a sweet kid. This entire family is bending over backward to accommodate me and how do I repay them? By taking Mal away.
Guilt threatened to choke her and she ambled after Aiden, who continued to chirp at her, even though Brynn barely registered anything he was saying.
She could feel Braden’s eyes boring into her, the very same way his father’s had the night before.
Nothing about this is right. I should have never left Stella and Paul.
With a renewed determination, Brynn knew what she had to do—the same thing she should have done in the first place.
I am not going to ruin Mal’s life. I’m going to walk away. It’s the best thing for everyone.
~ ~ ~
Dinner was another awkward affair, further reinforcing Brynn’s belief that it was time to move on.
If anything, Peter was more intent on drilling her, despite Lena’s attempts to diffuse the situation.
“So, you don’t remember anything? At all?”
“My memory is coming back slowly,” Brynn replied quickly. “I remembered Aiden when he was a toddler today.”
She flashed the boy a quick smile and he beamed.
“I showed her how to do her laundry,” Aiden said. “She was going out to find a laundromat but Braden and I caught her just in time!”
Lena choked on her peas and began to cough.
“You what?” she demanded, her eyes flashing. Brynn dropped her head in shame.
“I-I was just going out for some air,” she mumbled but Lena did not lose her frown.
“May I have a private word with you, Brynn?” Mal’s sister hissed, rising from her chair.
“I’ll come with you,” Peter said, also standing, but Lena shook her head.
“Girl talk,” she snapped, storming into the living room, and Brynn had no choice but to follow.
“Are you out of your mind?” Lena barked when Brynn caught up with her. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking to keep you safe? Why would you try and leave?”
“I-I…” Brynn sputtered but no other words fell from her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You’ll be sorry when all hell breaks loose. I’m at my wits’ end trying to keep this all together. I’m lying to my husband, I’m harboring a wolf, I’m endangering my children!”
Brynn felt the burn of tears behind her eyelids and she hung her head in shame.
“And you have no regard for any of that! You’re just doing whatever you want!” Lena rushed on, her face red with anger. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” Brynn breathed. She was more determined than ever to rid the household of her cursed presence.
“No,” Lena agreed. “You weren’t. Do you need to be locked in the basement? Is that what needs to happen?”
Brynn balked.
“Of course not!” she gasped but as she said it, she knew Lena wasn’t seriously considering it.
“All you have to do is lay low for a few days, Brynn. We’re all working to ensure your safety but…”
She trailed off, a look of pity striking her eyes.
“You need to work with us, too.”
Brynn swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from flowing.
I should have never allowed myself to fall under Malcolm’s spell. I was happy at Stella’s, wasn’t I?
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” Lena muttered. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by all that’s happening.”
“I know.”
They stood in silence for a long moment until Lena cleared her throat and turned back toward the dining room.
“Let’s go finish our dinner,” Lena said, regaining her composure and shuffling away, leaving Brynn to stare after her with a devastated heart.
The thought of rejoining the family was almost too much to bear, but if she wanted to leave undetected, she needed to act normally.
By this time tomorrow, I’ll be back in my room at Stella’s and nothing anyone can say will change my mind. Not even Malcolm.
~ ~ ~
She lay awake, waiting for sounds of the house to settle before rising from the bed she’d been given, fully dressed.
Her heart was hammering so loudly in her chest, she was sure that she’d wake the entire household, but it didn’t stop Brynn from quietly padding toward the front door, a lump in her throat.
Stay! Don’t go! a little voice cried in her head, but she quickly silenced it, willing her feet to move forward and into the darkness, knapsack in hand.
She had no idea if she would find a bus or train running at that time of night, but the walls of the house had become stifling. The notion of spending one more night there was unbearable.
Even if she had to sleep at the train station and catch a trip at dawn, it would be worth it for even a few minutes of breathing easy.
She thought of what Mal would do when he heard she had left.
Undoubtedly, he would call Stella and see if she had returned there.
And I’ll tell Stella to lie and say I’m not there.
It made her stomach flip, knowing that Mal would be tormented by her departure again, but in her heart, Brynn knew she was doing what was best for everyone. She couldn’t expect Malcolm to give up his life for her, not when she wasn’t even the same woman.
A taxi took her to the station and to her surprise, the trains were running all night, one leaving for Chicago only minutes from departure.
It’s a sign. I was meant to be on that train, to return to Stella and Paul.
Yet as she boarded the train headed for Illinois, she wondered if she wasn’t just making matters worse.
I guess
I’m about to find out, Brynn thought with grim determination.
Chapter Ten
Pleading the Fifth
“All rise! The Honorable Judge Jason Kyler presiding,” the bailiff intoned monotonously.
Mal stood with the others in the courtroom, knowing that he was being called as the first witness that morning. He regretted he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Brynn yet, the sound of her voice the night before still haunting him.
She had claimed everything was fine but Mal knew better.
This is too much stress for all of us.
He was grateful that he was being called on that morning and he hoped he wouldn’t be giving testimony for days, but who could say?
It would take as long as it did, and after, nothing would stop him and Brynn from taking off.
“Mr. Lowry,” Judge Kyler sighed after instructing everyone to be seated. “Will the prosecution please call its first witness this morning?”
“Your honor, the prosecution calls Detective Malcolm Barnes to the stand.”
Mal rose from the front pew, securing the top button of his suit jacket, and made his way up to the witness box to be sworn in. He placed his hand on a bible and looked at the bailiff.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
The book was removed and Lowry approached the stand.
“Good morning, Detective Barnes. How long have you been a CPD detective?”
“Five years, three months,” Mal replied, settling back in his chair. He knew this was a marathon, not a sprint, and he intended to pace himself.
“And what unit do you work within?”
“I began in Narcotics but I asked to be transferred to Special Victims soon afterward.”
“What is the solve rate at SVU?”
“Around fifty-two percent,” Mal sighed. “I wish it were better.”
“And what is your arrest rate?”
“Eighty-four.”
Lowry eyed the jury with wide eyes.
“Wow. Impressive, Detective.”
“I put in the hours, I do my job, get my man—or woman, as the case might be.”
“Is that how you came to find Jacob Christensen? Through hard work?”
Mal chuckled mirthlessly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever worked harder on a case,” he answered truthfully. “The man is a menace who needs to be locked away for good.”
“Objection, your honor! The witness is sermonizing.” The defense lawyer cast Mal a scowl.
“Your Honor, the witness is a professional in this matter. He’s seen the worst of the worst in his career. I think his opinion counts in this instance.”
“Overruled.”
“Go on, Detective.”
“Jacob Christensen isn’t even thirty years old and he has run hundreds of women all over America and Central America. And those are only the ones we know about. He is known to his victims as violent, sadistic and cruel. He has even pimped out his own sister.”
There was a horrified gasp in the jury box.
“Allegedly!” defense cried. “He has been convicted of nothing!”
“Not yet,” Malcolm muttered, glaring at the smug-faced defendant.
“Sustained. Detective, you know better,” the judge chided him.
“Apologies, Your Honor.”
“We heard from members of your team yesterday, Detective, so we won’t go into the same details that we have already heard, the branding, the abuse, neglect, etc.…”
“Your Honor! Now Mr. Lowry is testifying!”
“Sustained. Get on with it, Mr. Lowry.”
“Of course,” Lowry said, bowing his head slightly. “I just wanted to ask you how many hours you and your team put into finding Jacob Christensen.”
“At last check, forty thousand six hundred and eight. And that’s just from the Chicago charges. Throughout the country, he has other charges pending.”
There was another sharp inhale of breath and Malcolm felt a wave of confidence wash over him.
“That’s all for now, Your Honor. Thank you, Detective.”
“Mr. Yates, your witness.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Yates rose and shuffled through some papers, cocking his head to the side as he cleared his throat.
“Mr. Barnes, your record is quite impressive indeed.”
“Thank you.” Mal wouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security. He knew how defense attorneys worked.
“Tell me, what makes a man like you venture into the dismal world of SVU?”
“A man like me?” Mal snorted.
“Well, yes, Detective. You had initially been placed in Narcotics but you barely stayed there six months before requesting a transfer specifically to SVU.”
“Are you suggesting that Narcotics is less dismal than SVU? Clearly you’ve never seen a baby addicted to heroin.”
“Your Honor, would you please instruct the witness not to answer a question with a question.”
“Apologies, Your Honor,” Mal interjected. “I’m just not understanding what Mr. Yates is asking. Cops transfer units all the time. It isn’t some grand conspiracy.”
“Let me ask you this a different way, then,” Yates offered. “Have you personally been affected by the effects of sex trafficking, Detective?”
Mal tensed. A part of him had expected this line of questioning. Every once in a while, a douchebag lawyer would bring up the question of bias in the investigation.
“I think everyone is affected by the effects of sex trafficking, Mr. Yates. It’s a social issue, a community problem. We do live in a society, after all.”
“Yes, of course, but you have a more personal story than that, don’t you?”
“Do I?”
“Your Honor!”
“Detective Barnes… please answer the question.”
“Objection, Your Honor! What is the relevance of this?” Lowry wanted to know.
“It will become pertinent in a moment.”
“It better, Mr. Yates. You’re on a short leash.”
“Of course, Your Honor. Mr. Barnes?”
“Again, I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr. Yates.”
“Your Honor, permission to treat this witness as hostile?”
“Is that really necessary, Your Honor?” Lowry demanded. “If Mr. Yates could learn how to fashion a question better, maybe Detective Barnes wouldn’t be so confused.”
“Mr. Yates, you may treat the witness as hostile.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Detective, true or false, your girlfriend Brynn Alexander fell into the hands of traffickers in Belize, five years ago.”
“That was the theory at the time,” Mal told him agreeably.
“You spent two months there, turning towns upside down looking for her, didn’t you?”
“I assume anyone in my position would do the same for a loved one.”
“And when you came back from Belize, you were determined to make all the traffickers pay, weren’t you?”
“Sadly, Mr. Yates, I don’t think that’s feasible, but I do agree, I had a new lease on wanting to see those scumbags brought to justice.”
“Your Honor, honestly, where is this going? Mr. Yates is asking for the detective’s life story, which has no bearing on this case.”
“On the contrary,” Yates declared, sticking up his index finger in a Eureka moment. “It shows that Detective Barnes has an extreme bias toward any man who he might think is such a person.”
Mal shot the prosecution a look which read, “is this guy all right?”
“Mr. Yates, I need you to move on—”
“Your Honor, if I might answer that,” Mal interjected and the judge nodded.
“As I said earlier, Mr. Yates, that was the working theory at the time, that Ms. Alexander was stolen by traffickers, but it later proved to be unfounded.”
Yates’ mouth gaped slightly and he tipped his head to the side.
“She was found, unscathed. She never was a victim of human trafficking, despite what the Belizean police believed,” Mal continued, and as the words left his lips, he wondered why he’d said them aloud.
He was just so determined to see Christensen locked away, he wasn’t thinking straight.
That was stupid. Really stupid.
“Well-I-that’s wonderful to hear,” Yates sputtered and Mal eyed him pensively.
“It is.”
Yates’ eyes narrowed and he shuffled back toward his paperwork.
“Are you sure about this, Mr. Barnes?” Yates demanded, pouring over the papers on his desk. “There is no record of Brynn Alexander ever being—”
“Your Honor, honestly, this trial is going to go on long enough without picking apart every relationship that Detective Barnes has ever had.”
“This goes to credibility now, Your Honor! Is Mr. Barnes lying under oath?”
“I have a stellar service record, Mr. Yates,” Mal hissed back, his eyes slits. “I resent the implication.”
“Indeed, Mr. Yates. If you’re going to make such a bold claim, you better have more than your instinct to back it up.”
“I’d like to request a recess, Your Honor,” Yates went on and Mal felt a prickle of fear rising in his neck.
“For what?” the judge demanded in exasperation.
“I need to verify what Detective Barnes has told us about Ms. Alexander.”
“Your Honor, Detective Barnes is not on trial,” Lowry grunted, the frustration on his face clear.
“Please, Your Honor. The entire crux of my case is that this has been a witch hunt orchestrated by an overzealous and biased cop with his own agenda.”
Mal looked at Lowry in disbelief.
That’s his entire defence?
Christensen leaned over the defense table, his eyes gleaming.
“Fifteen minutes,” Judge Kyler sighed. “And if you’re starting a witch hunt of your own, Mr. Yates—”
“I assure His Honor, I’m not,” Yates promised. “Fifteen minutes is all I need.”
“Very well. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we will reconvene in fifteen minutes.”
He banged the gavel down and rose from the bench, as Yates hurried out of the courtroom.