He pulled away from the pump, but parked at the far end of the parking lot, anxious to read the article. The headline itself had caught his eye, but the picture was what had grabbed his attention.
He was positive he recognized the man, which meant more than likely he’d been in trouble in the past. Ever since he’d worked in Charlotte, and the one scumbag had shown up at his door, he’d made it a habit to engrain the image of anyone he’d arrested or had run-ins with.
His wife at the time had opened the door thinking the dirtbag was a teenager selling school stuff. He was a teenager, all right, one of the worst he’d met. He’d helped a serial pedophile track down a twelve-year-old boy. The murderer landed on death row for his crime, but the kid who’d helped him had walked free since he hadn’t been a part of the actual murder and had only been fifteen at the time.
He’d claimed he didn’t know why the man wanted the kid, but Bearns had known. The kid was no good. It wasn’t long after that he’d decided to leave Charlotte. Of course, finding out his wife had been cheating on him with another cop had pushed that decision along too. He missed his son and daughter, but at least now that he was self-employed, he had more time to spend with them. They’d spend half of the summers and holidays with him, and he’d bring them to Bryson City at least once or twice a month.
Bearns read the article, stopping on the name of the man. Shaking his head, he couldn’t help but smile. He knew he’d recognized him. It appeared he’d be paying a trip to Ashville P.D.
An hour later, Bearns stood in front of Detective Wilson Meare.
“Mornin’.” The detective stood to greet him, offering his hand. “How can I help you?”
Bearns shook the detective’s hand, thankful he seemed like a nice guy. “Mornin’, Detective. I’m Jason Bearns.” He handed him his business card, expecting a smirk.
“Will Meare,” he offered, glancing at the card without batting an eye, then gesturing for Bearns to sit as he took his own seat behind his desk. “What brings you here, Bearns?”
Bearns set the newspaper in front of him. “You’re working the case of Carlin Castle, right?”
The detective picked up the paper and nodded as his eyes darted across the page.
“Doesn’t look good, does it?” Bearns suggested.
“Not at all.” He shook his head. “But we didn’t have anything to keep her. The state attorney released her the next day. Our only witness came in half-drunk, stating she knew who killed Carlin. But she also happened to be foolin’ around with him. Said she’d come to settle some things, but then saw Shelby, along with a couple other people, wrestling with Carlin, but was too afraid to do anything. But she’d also said she heard a gunshot, and Carlin hadn’t been shot. Pure case of a disgruntled mistress.” The Ashville detective cocked his head in question. “How does this concern you?”
“Oddly enough, I was at the Castles’ house yesterday on a case I’d accepted a few days earlier. Wife hired me ’cause she was tired of her husband screwing around, and she was gonna leave him. The next morning, she calls, rambling on that he hadn’t come home and she knew where he was.” Meare jotted notes, so Bearns gave him the name before he asked. “Name’s Roger Hale, the Castles’ stable master.” He got a head nod from the detective over that tidbit. “According to Mrs. Hale, she checked his cellphone records, and the last call came from Clayton Castle. I figured it might give you enough probable cause to search the grounds and surrounding area, see if there’s anything suspicious.”
Meare smiled, nodding. “What we need is to get Shelby Castle back in here, and I know just how to do it.” Wilson picked up the phone as his fingers scrolled through his Rolodex. He dialed the number on the card and then dropped the card on his desk where Bearns could read the front.
And he thought he’d stoop low to solve a case.
The detective leaned back in his chair while he waited for Elise Smith to come on the line. Bearns wasn’t certain if he liked this guy or not. Most detectives wouldn’t give a private investigator the time of day, but one thing was for sure, though; Meare obviously didn’t care how he caught the ‘bad guy’, as long as he caught them.
Chapter Eighteen
Shelby loved the feel of Tom’s arms around her, but she couldn’t stay away another night.
Her phone had died, so she hadn’t called, since she definitely didn’t want to call from the hotel room phone. “I have to get home, Tom. Justin will be looking for me. I’ve already been gone too long, and I’m sure it won’t look good me staying out all night.”
Tom lifted his head from the pillow and smiled. “Yeah…I probably should get some work done too. If I have a job, that is.”
They’d kissed and talked, and kissed some more before they fell asleep again. It had been a long night. Even if she didn’t remember ninety percent of it, her body felt it. “Why wouldn’t you have a job?” she asked.
“Well, I don’t know how they’ll react when they find out I married the woman whose case I was supposed to take, especially if they find out I did it so that I wouldn’t be able to testify against you.”
“I still don’t understand why that woman would say she saw me, but obviously she’d been seeing Carlin.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on either side of Tom’s face, looking him square in the eyes. “I swear I had nothing to do with his death, Tom. As soon as I saw him the next morning, I called 911.”
Tom rested his hand against hers. “I believe you, Shelby.” She could tell he really did. “We’ll get to the bottom of this together. So, did you think about it? Will you come back to my apartment after you get Justin?”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Not now. It’s not the right time. How would it look if I moved in with you days after my husband died—”
“Ex-husband,” he corrected her. “You’ve been divorced for two and a half years, and now you’re my wife.”
“Only on paper, Tom. And I moved back in with him.”
“Because you had nowhere else to go.”
She dropped her head against his chest. “I can’t. Not now. And if you truly want to make this work, you’ll have to be patient with me while I figure out some things in my life. But I’m not ripping my son out of his home and giving people more reason to talk.”
He ran his hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair down her back. “I understand, and I will. I’m just worried about you. What if Carlin didn’t drown? What if he was murdered? What if the other guy they’re looking for killed him? You could be in danger.”
She kissed his neck. “I swear you’re more worried about me than Carlin ever was. You sound like my brother with all your ‘what ifs’.”
He chuckled. “Believe me. There isn’t anything brotherly about how I feel.”
She inhaled deeply. “Let’s go.”
He lifted her head and kissed her again. “Okay. But I want to see you later.”
Shelby scooted off the bed, gathered up her boots and purse, and walked to the door, waiting for Tom to put on his shirt. Her eyes dropped so she wouldn’t continue to ogle his body.
Thirty minutes later, Tom pulled onto her driveway. “Nice place.”
“Yeah. Too bad there are so many bad memories.”
“Can I come in?”
Shelby squeezed his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll call you later, okay?” He leaned in, and she pulled back. “Not here, Tom. I’ll call you later.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. I understand.”
Shelby hopped out and waved as Tom drove off.
She walked to the main house, hoping June wouldn’t be there. She wasn’t sure how she could face her. What she should say. Normally she would just walk in. But under the circumstances, she thought it better to knock.
June opened the door, but stood there without moving. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she wasn’t sad. The ugly sneer and cold gaze she shot her burned Shelby’s insides. “How dare you! You slut!”
“I’m here for
my son, June, and then I’ll be out of your lives.”
June released a vicious laugh. “While you were out getting drunk and married, they came and took my grandson—”
“What?” Shelby screamed, shoving the door open and charging into the house. She whipped around when she saw no signs of Justin. “Where’s my son, June?”
“As if you care—”
Shelby stormed the woman, shoving her against the door. “Where’s my son, you heartless old nag.”
“Thank you, Shelby,” her mother-in-law drawled. “Now I can add assault to the charges against you when we fight for custody of my grandson.”
Shelby pushed her again. “Where’s Justin? I’m not gonna ask you again.”
“They came and took him while you were getting married.”
Shelby stepped back. “Who took him, and how did you know I got married?”
June puckered her lips and shook her head. “It’s all over the papers, Shelby. You’re white trash, so you don’t know what it’s like growing up and living in an affluent family. Everything you do is scrutinized. You can’t live your life any way you wish. The media eats up this stuff. Some woman from a child welfare agency came in and took Justin. Now, Clayton’s there, trying to get him back.”
Covering her face, Shelby fell against the wall. Now she’d lost everything. June pushed by her, knocking her out of the way. Her heels clicked across the marble floor, but Shelby couldn’t move; she just stood in the doorway as tears dropped onto her cheeks. Clayton would get her baby back.
June stepped around the corner carrying a newspaper, shoving it against her. “Here. You’re a celebrity now. All these years, we’ve stayed out of the limelight. And you’ve been nothing but trouble.”
Shelby gawked at the headline:
EX-WIFE QUESTIONED IN CARLIN CASTLE’S DEATH MARRIES NEXT DAY.
Her eyes fell to the picture of Tom carrying her out of the bar. She scanned the article. It was all there. All the facts mixed in with lies.
She opened the door and stumbled down the stoop, walking toward her house. She needed to charge her phone and call Clayton. She needed to find her son. Nothing mattered but him.
As soon as Shelby turned on her phone, the messages clicked one after another on her front screen. Voicemail, texts, several from her brother, a couple caller-unknown numbers, and then the last one was from Tom. She pressed ‘voicemail’ and listened to the messages.
Today 6:23: Shelby, it’s Tom. I got a message from Chad and my sister. The paper. I’m so sorry. Call me, please.
Today 4:35: Sis, are you plum crazy? I just got home from work and Momma showed me the paper. You got married? What are you thinkin’? Call me!
Today 4:27: Ms. Castle, this is Randall Belcher. I received a call from Detective Wilson Meare. They want you to come in for questioning again. Of course, you don’t have to, and I recommend you don’t. But I just got off the phone with Clayton and heard about your son. They are probably the ones who called, so it may look better if you do. Call me and I’ll arrange a time. But under no circumstances discuss anything with the police without me present.
Shelby clicked ‘end’ and dialed the only important number, Clayton. No answer. She sighed and hung up. How was it possible that she could have so many problems?
She set the phone on the table and walked toward the bathroom to clean up, but it rang again. As much as she didn’t want to answer it, she had to. Maybe Clayton was returning her call with good news.
She grabbed the phone and clicked ‘accept’ for the unknown number.
“Shelby, I’m so sorry. I just saw the paper. Are you okay? I had no idea someone took a picture of us.”
“I can’t talk right now, Tom. They came and took my son, and I need to figure out how to get him back.”
“Who took your son?”
“D.S.S.,” she burst out, repressing her urge to scream, cry, blame anyone other than herself. “I’m sure I look like an unfit mother at this point.”
“I’ll be right over, Shelby. I’ll help.”
She closed her eyes, blinking away the tears. Hating that she wanted to lash out at the one man who’d been kind to her. But it was partly his fault. “No, Tom. You’ve done enough. Just stay away from me.” She hated saying those words, but it was how it had to be. “If you want to help, draw up those annulment papers for me to sign.” She clicked ‘end’ and walked off to the bathroom to clean up.
Nothing mattered but finding her son.
Chapter Nineteen
Tom collapsed in his chair. Impulsive. He’d always been quick to jump, too anxious to make decisions.
Though, he’d thought he’d been doing the right thing this time. His only thought had been to protect Shelby. He knew that oaf had abused her, even caused her to lose a child, so the last thing he wanted was for her to go to prison because of him. As much as he believed in the law, he knew that sometimes it failed.
Now the law had her baby and it was all his fault. Cassandra had been studying family law, thinking that maybe someday she’d return once the children were older, but since she’d passed the bar exam, she’d kept busy drawing up wills and other personal documents.
How would Cassandra react if he asked her to draw up annulment papers? She’d probably refuse, stating that he’d made his bed…now he had to sleep in it. Which he’d be more than happy to do, only the woman he’d married, hated him.
He made the call to Cassandra and explained the situation anyway. Who cared about his pride and how she’d ridicule his actions.
“Tom, this is outrageous,” Cassandra insisted after she’d listened patiently to the entire situation. “D.S.S doesn’t take a child without a court order. Especially in this situation, where there’s no indication of child abuse.” She inhaled a deep breath, then seemed to hold it for a second. “Unless…”
He stopped his pacing around his office. “Unless what, Cass? You said ten times that there was no way.”
“Well, there’s a special provision I found. Hang on.” The clicking of keys reverberated through the phone line. “The statute reads, for immediate response within twenty-four hours of a child in a life-threatening situation…” she trailed off as she was evidently reading to herself. “Hmm…not good, Tom. In the case of a dead father, with a mother as a suspect, and a missing person, all in the same night. I guess if someone wanted to have the child removed immediately, they could.”
“Then what?” Tom pleaded.
“From my understanding, the court must hold a hearing within seven days. And based on the real information in this case, with no indication of abuse to the child, I’m certain she would retain custody. Worst case, her in-laws.”
Tom sighed. “And that’s exactly what Shelby’s afraid of. According to her, they’ve already signed papers for custody of her son. In the pretense that if she’d been convicted of assault the first time, they’d be ready.” He jotted notes on his legal pad. “She needs an attorney, Cass.”
“No way. I can’t. I’m not ready,” Cassandra groaned. “I’m pregnant. I’m sick. What good could I possibly do?”
“Of course you’re ready, Cass. You were born ready.” Tom scratched his pen on the paper, absently sketching images of Shelby’s eyes and long hair. “Her in-laws certainly aren’t going to pay for an attorney, and if you don’t, she’ll end up with a public defender. Not that that’s a bad thing. But who knows how far the Castles’ reach is? You already admitted how unlikely it was that D.S.S. would react so quickly. Something’s up.”
Chapter Twenty
The phone rang and Shelby jumped out of the shower, pulling a towel around her dripping body.
She ran across the tiled floor, slipping as she grabbed the phone off the counter and clicked ‘accept’ for the unknown number.
“Hello?” she answered, panting out a breath.
“Shelby, it’s Tom.”
“Tom, I told you I don’t have time—”
“Wait! Don’t hang up. I know. Just listen, p
lease. This isn’t about us; this is about Justin.” He paused, evidently making sure she was still listening. “You need an attorney, and Cassandra is willing to help. She doesn’t have any trial experience, but she’s smart, and she’s been studying family law for the last year. And my father is a family-law attorney in Florida, so even though he doesn’t practice here, he’d be able to answer any questions.”
Shelby let him ramble. As much as she wanted to be mad, she couldn’t blame Tom. Everything that had happened wasn’t his fault. Actually, it was her fault. She shouldn’t have gone out last night. She should have been home with her son. She should have already left town.
“Are you still there, Shelby?”
“I’m here.”
“Will you let me help you? The right way, please. What Cassandra and I lack in experience, we more than make up in passion and determination. We may not have trial experience, but this is a situation requiring skill outside the courtroom, and we know what we’re doing when it comes to research. I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Tom…” she whined.
“Shelby…” he used her exact inflection.
She shook her head, unable to laugh. He was trying so hard. “I have to go down to give a statement at the police station. Belcher thinks they may have been the ones who called D.S.S. So let me figure out what’s going on, and I’ll call you back. Okay?”
“That’s all I ask.”
“Goodbye, Tom.”
He sighed. “Goodbye, Shelby.”
Shelby returned Mr. Belcher’s call and set up a time to speak with Detective Meare in an hour, even though Belcher repeatedly recommended she didn’t.
“I have nothing to hide, Mr. Belcher.”
“Ms. Castle, right now they have nothing. They have a woman claiming to have seen you while she was more than likely meeting your ex-husband for a midnight rendezvous. Obviously, they can’t accept her testimony. I’d rip her to shreds on the stand, and they know it. And for all we know, she could have given him drugs or something. They don’t like introducing a witness whom I can potentially turn into a suspect, casting doubt on their case. But if you talk to them, say anything, they can break you. You have to agree to keep your mouth shut if we go.”
When Noonday Ends: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Nantahala - Book Two Page 10