So...was it himself he was protecting?
And so thinking, how could he not at least offer to see them?
It was Saturday. A day he’d taken off because of the week they’d had. He’d planned to surf. Work out. Buy cat food.
Maybe try to get a look at the thing. And figure out what to call it. It was eating the food he left every morning. Leaving messes for him to clean.
Officers would be on Emma’s house until he returned to her house that evening. Or someone would catch a lucky break and they’d find the guy trying to shut her up. For all he knew, she’d be going into the office. She often did on Saturdays. And since she’d been working from home all week, she’d probably want to get caught up on things while the office was quiet.
That’s what he would choose to do if it were him: go to his office.
Putting on dark shorts and a casual pullover shirt, he slipped on a pair of dock shoes and grabbed his keys. The gym was open all day. He could go to the beach in the afternoon and at least get in some swimming. Maybe, that morning, he’d drive down to see his folks. To talk to his dad about trying new foods.
On his way, he made a call. Asked Leon, his sometime partner, for a favor. And when Leon got back to him with a number, he instructed his hands-free dialing assistant to make the call.
Emory’s mother started to cry when he identified himself to her. Told him he was welcome to come by anytime. And within the hour, he was sitting in her living room, holding a glass of tea he didn’t want.
She’d moved since he’d known them. Into a much smaller place. Emory had had a younger sister, he recalled, who was now married with a couple of kids and living just a couple of blocks away.
Mrs. Smith—Ms. White, now that she was divorced—lived alone.
Another nail in his coffin.
The death of a child was one of the major causes for divorce, Jayden knew from his many hours of counseling studies.
“I’m just so sorry,” he blurted out in the middle of their catching-up politeness. “I wish it could have been me, not him, Ms. White. I swear to you, not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Every morning, I know my goal is to live in a way that would honor my having known him.”
He didn’t say Emory’s name. Found himself oddly out of sorts. Emotional. Almost weak with it.
Tears filled her eyes. She straightened, smiling. Didn’t seem weak at all.
“He adored you, Jayden. All he ever wanted was to be like you, and the sad truth was, it wasn’t ever going to happen. He’d always been a small boy, small-boned. He could build his strength, but he was never going to have broad shoulders. Or a body that could tackle other men.”
“I shouldn’t have encouraged him.”
“To the contrary—you were the one who saved him.”
He shook his head. Hadn’t she been told the truth of what had happened? Could that be possible?
“You did.” She continued, “He never had any friends. Never fit in. He told me once, in junior high, that he felt like a freak. I think that’s why he originally insisted on trying out for football. And then he met you. The quarterback. A star. You noticed him. And rather than crush his dream, you showed him a way he could be part of the team. He became a kicker, and his whole life changed. He loved high school. He dated. Went out. Had friends. You gave that to him.”
At what cost? he wondered. He’d taken so much more.
“He’ll never give you grandchildren.”
“No, he won’t. But I already have grandchildren. I babysit for them five days a week. Some people don’t get that lucky.”
Jayden didn’t buy it. She was just being nice. He shouldn’t have come.
“Emory died doing what he wanted to do more than anything else in the world,” she said softly, tearing up again. “He died becoming a brother to you.”
His vision blurred slightly. He blinked.
“And Mr. Smith...does he feel the same way?” he asked. Man-to-man, would Emory’s father let the bitterness fly? Give Jayden the lashing he deserved?
“He’s still embittered. Angry.”
Rightfully so. If it would do the man any good to berate Jayden in person, he’d stop by there, too. If she’d give him an address.
“My ex-husband blames himself for pushing Emory so hard. Wanting him to be a man. He was part of the reason Emory chose football—to find his manhood. His father had played. When Emory played his first high school game, you’d have thought his father had won the lottery. And when he got a scholarship, it’s all my ex-husband could talk about. He was being a dad. Trying to have relationship with his son.
“If Emory had chosen to go to Harvard, my ex-husband would have bragged about that, too. But he doesn’t see it that way.” She sighed softly. “He thinks he drove Emory to be something he was not. That he pushed him into choosing to prove himself yet again by jumping off that cliff. He cut me off first, certain that I blamed him. No amount of telling him different, no amount of counseling, could get through to him. When our daughter got married, he withdrew even more. He hasn’t even met his second grandchild...”
Jayden ended up spending half a day with Emory’s mother. He took her out to lunch. Told her about his career. About using every day he had left on earth to honor life. To put others first. To make up for the selfish ass he’d been.
He didn’t put it in quite those words, but he needed her to know. Her son’s life had mattered. So much so, that Jayden’s was completely shaped by it.
On his way out of town he tried to see Emory’s father, too.
The man was polite, respectful, but didn’t want to meet.
Jayden understood completely. There were days he struggled to look himself in the mirror, too, but maybe it would be a little easier, going forward. He’d failed Emory, but he’d helped him, too, even if it had been unknowingly. And he hadn’t been solely responsible for the boy’s pushing himself too hard as Jayden had previously somehow thought.
Maybe, he’d reach out to Mr. Smith again. However often it took, until he and the man could find some kind of way to forgive each other—and then themselves.
* * *
Emma was at her desk at work, organizing the coming week and trying to get everything done quickly so that the deputy standing outside her door could move on to other pursuits. Because it was Saturday, the courts regular security detail was absent, but she couldn’t be in the building without protection.
Maybe overkill. Maybe not.
At least when the officers were sitting outside her house, they were there on a first-come, first-serve basis when it came to extra pay. That was city. The court was county detail.
She almost ignored her cell when it rang, figuring she could return the call from home. But when she looked and saw it was Jayden, she picked up. As far as she knew, he was working.
Or doing whatever he did when he wasn’t.
Maybe someday she’d know what he did for fun—or even do it with him sometimes.
“I’ve been thinking about that teenager Suzie told you about,” he said. “I agree with you that there’s got to be something in it. When you were relaying what she told you, in such detail...she had to have been talking about something real. Or she’s a consummate liar. If she’s lying, she’s covering for someone else. If not, we need to find the kid. He’d be twenty-one or -two by now. He might be able to tell us something about her that we don’t know.”
Or about Bill. More likely about Bill.
“Okay.”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m heading back to talk to the neighbors again. Just to see if there’s anything at all they can tell us...”
He couldn’t do so as a parole officer. But there was no law against a guy talking to someone who was willing to talk. Private detectives did it all the time.
But the real news was not that he was working outside his norma
l boundaries. She suspected Jayden did stuff like that all the time. It was the risk-taker in him. The guy who didn’t just fly by what was expected of him. But rather by what he expected of himself.
The real news was that he’d called to let her know he was going back.
There’d been no professional reason for him to have done so.
And she wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to make something of that. She wanted to so badly believe there was something more than physical fire between them, even if it was highly unconventional.
But in the past anytime she’d trusted her “wants,” listened to the Ms. Shadow side of her, others had been hurt. And she had been, too.
Still, she couldn’t close the door to the possibility. She and Jayden were special. No matter which side of her she asked.
Chapter 23
Jayden got nothing. Neither of the guys who lived in Bill’s old neighborhood and used him as their mechanic knew anything about a teenager who’d maybe mowed Bill’s grass four years ago or been friendly with the family in any way. Neither of them had ever seen any man at Suzie’s house other than Bill.
He knew what Emma would say. They were Bill’s clients. They could be lying for him, if he was giving them a good deal on their classic auto work—or just because they were friends and maybe thought what happened between a husband and wife was their business. Not Jayden’s.
Jayden didn’t think Bill was the man who’d abused Suzie. He just didn’t.
But then he never would have thought Ms. White would invite him to please come see her again—but she had as she’d hugged him goodbye. As often as he’d like. He’d never ever foreseen that his presence could bring her a piece of her son back. Or bring her peace of any kind.
He wasn’t off his personal hook. If he’d had half an awareness about himself back then, he should have figured that Emory couldn’t swim across that lake. He was the one who’d suggested the kid be a kicker because he knew he’d be made into meat out on the football field otherwise—because he was small. Emory could kick like no one Jayden had ever seen, but that hadn’t meant he had stamina or upper body strength.
Figuring he’d head back to his place and change and then tackle the ocean for a while, he was headed in that direction when his car dash signaled a call from Chantel.
“Powell,” he answered immediately.
“It’s Bill Heber.” Chantel didn’t explain. Didn’t need to. “We finally got the warrant for any surveillance cameras outside stores that sell lipstick between Santa Raquel and Bill’s place. It was a long shot, but we’ve spent the week following every long shot we had. They were all we had.”
“You’ve got him on tape? Buying lipstick?” Jayden found that hard to believe. Wanted the culprit found and punished, but he wanted it done right.
He wanted the right man.
Arresting someone would make everyone feel better, the department, the courts, could relax. But only if the guy they arrested was the one who’d made the threats. Bill had been in group Tuesday night when Emma had been forced off the road. His thoughts flew...
“We’ve got him on camera leaving a drugstore not far from his work,” Chantel reported. “A clerk there made a positive ID. She remembered him because the one tube of lipstick was all he bought. She told us what kind and it was a match to what the lab had come up with. He paid cash. Officers are on their way to pick him up now.”
A lot of work for a tube of lipstick, he thought. And a battery charge. But Suzie—a woman who refused to help law enforcement and the justice system keep her safe—wasn’t the only reason why everyone in the system was working overtime on this one. When Bill had threatened a prosecutor, he’d upped his ante considerably.
Pulling over, he called up the location app on his phone. “He’s at work,” he told her, feeling sick. To his stomach—and at heart. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t fail again, not in a big way. And he’d failed Emma. A woman who...
“Yeah, I already called to verify that,” Chantel, continuing their conversation, interrupted his thoughts. But not the weight, settling heavier and heavier on him.
“Let me know when you have him in custody.”
“Will do. You want to let Emma know or should I?”
Jayden was the one staying with her at night. “I will, and thanks, Detective.”
“I’m just sorry it didn’t turn out differently. I know you were really pulling for this one.”
“You going to try to get him on the abuse, too?”
“Yep.”
“You mind if Emma and I head over to Suzie’s to let her know an arrest has been made?” He was thinking of Emma. “I think she’d like to talk to her before anyone else gets to her, to try to get a statement out of her now that Bill’s been caught with hard evidence of harassment at least. When she talked to her on Monday, Emma said she thought Suzie wanted to tell her more than she had.”
Emma could have called the detective herself, but since he already had Chantel on the line...
“If Emma wants to go, I’m all for it. If not, let me know and I’ll send someone over to notify Suzie when we’ve got him in custody.”
Not normal protocol—but not a lot about this case was normal. On any level.
* * *
Someone was in the outer office. Emma heard her deputy talking, and then recognized the answering male voice with a familiar slide of warmth in her belly.
Jayden was there?
Rising, straightening her Lycra, calf-length brown skirt and white top, she ran a hand through her curls. They’d opened the door to becoming something.
Everything mattered more now.
Would he greet her with a kiss? It was after hours. They were virtually alone. Couples did that...
It took her a full thirty seconds to wonder why he’d come to her work at all. Why he hadn’t called beforehand. She was already reaching for her satchel before he’d even told her why he was there.
He’d explained what had happened by the time they were in his car and Chantel called to say that Bill was officially in custody. And that they’d found a dark blue baseball cap in his truck. His tire tracks didn’t match the tires found at Tuesday night’s scene, but he had an entire garage of vehicles he could have had access to. He evidently wasn’t dumb enough to use his own.
“Thank God,” Emma said after they told the detective they were on their way to Suzie’s and hung up. “I can’t believe it’s over!” She was free! Safe! Suzie was safe!
And, she realized, there was no reason that Jayden had to spend the night with her that night. He’d probably welcome a night in his own home. With his own things. Getting up to take a shower, without having to drive home first.
She wanted to ask him if he wanted to get dinner or something, to celebrate. And it occurred to her that maybe he’d had second thoughts about their talk the night before.
Then she saw Jayden’s expressionless face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just hope they’ve got the right man,” he finally said. “I can’t explain him buying lipstick. I didn’t get a chance to speak with him, obviously, but...”
“It’s okay if you were wrong,” she told him. “The man’s a fool for not appreciating the chance you were giving him.”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t add up to me. The note on your door, I can almost see that one. But trying to drive you off the road? And beating up on his wife the second he gets out of jail? The times he got upset with her in the past—and he admits to doing so, just not hitting her—all stemmed from rational scenarios he’d built in his head. Just showing up at her house out of the blue and beating up on her...it doesn’t fit him. And driving you off the road...it’s irrational. He’s not.”
Emma listened to him. Wanted to be able to help him. But couldn’t.
“I’m sorry.” She’d been right on this one.
She was good at her job. Had studied the case far longer than Jayden had. Was a professional doing her job. But she was sorry that the guy he’d been standing up for had turned out to be manipulating him. “I know you thought he was different,” she offered when he said nothing.
As a professional, she could make the rest of the ride across town in perfectly acceptable silence. As Jayden’s...whatever she was going to be...she was finding the silence difficult.
“I hope to God, if you’re right and Bill did this, that Suzie will talk to you as you expected she wanted to do on Monday night. That she’ll give specifics. Something that points irrevocably to Bill.”
She hoped so, too.
* * *
He needed the women safe: both Emma and Suzie. If Bill was their man, Jayden would do whatever he could to get the man back in prison as fast as possible. He could have Bill’s parole revoked, which would send him back while he awaited trial on all of the new charges.
Jayden’s problem wasn’t in being wrong... He wasn’t real thrilled that Emma seemingly didn’t pick up on his feelings. But then, when a guy didn’t give anything of himself to anyone, how could he expect them to magically know him? Know what he’d do? Or how he’d feel?
He’d figured his solitary life would preclude such considerations. But now...
Everything was confused. Confusing him.
“I went to see Emory’s mom today.”
Emma had been instrumental in the visit. It seemed okay to fill her in.
“And?”
He told her about the woman’s surprising pleasure in seeing him. And then about Emory’s father’s self-imposed exile. All afternoon Jayden had been kind of seeing himself in that story—wondering if maybe he was wasting a life, and dishonoring Emory by doing so, hurting loved ones who still needed him, as Tom Smith was doing.
Or if he was falling hard for the prosecutor and was grasping at straws as a way to justify breaking his word to himself.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Emma said when he’d been half holding his breath to see if she also saw similarities between him and Mr. Smith. “Maybe the real challenge is not in being perfect, but in learning to forgive yourself when you aren’t.”
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