by Sandra Owens
“I’m Vickey Boyd, your attorney. Have a seat.” She eyed the police officer. “You may leave us now.”
“Thank you for coming,” Jack said when they were alone.
“Deke called in a favor, otherwise I’d have referred you to one of the other attorneys in our firm since I’m not taking new clients at the moment.”
“Well, thank you both then.”
“You go up before the judge in an hour, so let’s get to it. I’ve read the police report. Now I want to hear it from you. Start with why you were at the bar getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon. I gather from Deke that’s not your usual behavior.”
Jack felt his face flush. The lady was no-nonsense, and he liked that, but it was embarrassing that he’d put Deke in the position of having to make excuses for him. He’d gone from never even having a speeding ticket to being arrested, accused of putting a man in a coma, and all because he’d decided the answer to his problem could be found in the bottom of a beer bottle...make that bottles, plural.
Everything that had made him happy when he’d woken up the day of his doctor’s appointment was gone. He couldn’t be a SEAL with a shoulder that kept him from shooting straight. That hurt, but what hurt the most was the damage he’d done to his relationship with Nichole. What did he have to offer her now? Answer, nothing.
“No, I don’t hang in bars, and I don’t get drunk. As a rule.” He sat back, wishing he didn’t have to bare his soul to this woman he didn’t know. But he did, so he told her everything, from the news he’d gotten from his doctor and why that had been upsetting to the point of deciding to get a drunk on through when he’d been arrested.
As he related the events leading up to him sitting handcuffed in a police department interrogation room, one thought kept running through his head. Failure wasn’t an option for a SEAL, yet he was failing at every turn. As much as he wished his teammates were here to support him, he was glad they weren’t. He didn’t think he could handle the disappointment he’d see in their eyes.
The only thing he didn’t tell her was about blacking out. He’d given it a lot of thought, and as drunk as he was, he was sure there was no way he would have forgotten dragging a body to the back of the building. He remembered putting Gregory to the ground, and he remembered stumbling toward his truck after that. There was also a fuzzy memory of falling down, but he couldn’t swear to it. If he had put his hands out to catch his fall, that could explain his bloody knuckles.
“And that’s it until the cops broke my door in yesterday.”
“Unfortunately, there aren’t cameras outside the bar to back up your story,” she said when he finished. “There are cameras inside, so that’s how they were able to track you down.”
“The only thing I hurt on that man was his wrist and maybe his knees.” He had to believe that.
“That doesn’t matter—”
“It does to me.”
“But not to me. Guilty or not, it’s my job to protect your interests and make sure the law works as it should.” The hint of a smile appeared on her face. “It is a plus when the client is innocent, which I believe you are.”
“Thanks. That’s important to me. What happens now?”
“We get you out on bail.” She gave him a dollar figure. “That’s my best guess estimate on what your bail will be. It helps that you don’t have a record and Deke said you own a home here. Can you cover it? If not—”
“Not a problem.” He glanced down at the orange jumpsuit. “Any chance of getting my clothes back before I go to court?”
“Sorry, no. You’ll be taken in with the other prisoners going up before the judge today. I’ll do all the talking, so don’t piss me off and open your mouth.”
Caught by surprise by her saying piss, he laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“The only time I want you to talk is when you’re asked what plea you’re entering. That’s where you’ll say not guilty. Anything other than that comes out of your mouth, you can go find yourself a new lawyer.”
“Got it.” Jack had been trained to the gills on following orders, and Deke was right. This lady was sharp. He wasn’t about to do anything but obey her, especially if it meant he’d be at home in a few hours where he could take a hot shower.
“I’ll want a list of character witnesses. Family, girlfriend, teammates who might be available to testify.”
“What else do you need from me?” he asked, avoiding telling her his only family was Grammie, and no way would he put her through a trial. His teammates would gladly testify on his behalf if they weren’t over seven thousand miles away. As for a girlfriend...he just didn’t know. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore, and what woman would want a man possibly headed to prison?
“That’s it for now. Be in my office in the morning at nine, and I’ll fill you in on what to expect as we go forward. Do not under any circumstance talk to the police without me present, and that includes Deke. He’ll be obligated to inform the detective on the case anything you say to him.”
He felt as if he was being isolated, and for a man used to having his team at his six, he was...lost.
Chapter Twenty-One
“It seems there’s bad blood between your old boyfriend and your new one.”
Nichole kept her gaze steady on the man who’d introduced himself as Detective Margolis. “You’re wasting your time trying to pin this on Jack. He would never hurt someone like that.”
Two days had passed since she’d learned Jack had been arrested, and he still hadn’t called or tried to see her. No matter how much that hurt, how much of a jerk that made him, this detective was never going to convince her that Jack had almost killed Lane.
She glanced around the room, then down at the bar bolted to the table that she assumed was meant for handcuffs. Had Jack been in this room, his wrists cuffed to the bar so he couldn’t pull a fast one and escape? Probably, and that made her sad. When the detective had called her, requesting she come to the police station for an interview, she’d gladly agreed. It was her chance to help Jack.
“We have a witness to the fight, Nichole. It wasn’t their first altercation. I have a statement from your mall security that your boyfriend knocked out Mr. Gregory, sending him to the hospital.”
She bristled at the way he said boyfriend, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. And damn Mel. “I’m telling you again. Jack. Did. Not. Do. This. As for the incident at the artisan’s mall, Lane attacked Jack, and Jack was only defending himself. Instead of trying to find evidence where there isn’t any, you should be looking for the person who really is guilty. Believe me, the people Lane hangs out with are not the cream of society.”
Everything she said was true, but she couldn’t get the vision of Jack’s bloody knuckles out of her head. Was it possible he had done what he was accused of? He’d been pretty drunk when he’d arrived home. What if... No, he didn’t do it, and she resented the detective for making her doubt Jack.
After a few more questions from the detective attempting to get her to say something negative about Jack, she stood. “I’m done here. I can’t and won’t help you convict an innocent man who is serving his country, who was injured in the line of duty, and who is a hero.” She needed to talk to Jack, ask him straight out if Lane was in a coma because of him, look him in the eyes when he answered.
“I’m not finished, Nichole.”
“Well, I am.” She took one last look at the black metal bar, her heart hurting at the thought of Jack being handcuffed to it.
After getting the call from the detective, she’d phoned Deke, wanting to know what to expect. She could tell he was uncomfortable answering her questions, and she understood she was putting him in the middle. Even so, he’d walked her through what would happen, and she appreciated that. The best thing he’d told her was that unless she was charged with something, she was free to walk out whenever she wanted.
She wanted, so sh
e did.
When she arrived home, Mark wasn’t there. She called his cell. “Where are you?”
“At the dog place.”
Even though Jack had ghosted him, Mark was still volunteering his time there each morning. Her little brother really was growing up. A month ago, he wouldn’t have cared about being responsible.
“Have you heard from Jack?” he said. “He’s still not calling me back. I’m getting really worried.”
“We need to talk. When will you be home?” Not wanting to see his disappointment in his new hero, she hadn’t told Mark about the accusation against Jack and that he’d been arrested. She couldn’t put it off any longer, though. It was better that he heard it from her, and not someone else.
“I’m finishing up, so I’ll be there soon. What’s going on?”
“We’ll talk when you get here.” She disconnected before he could ask more questions, then took Rambo out. It was such a pleasure to walk him now compared to how he’d been before Jack’s training. Everyone was new and improved since Jack had entered her life. Whatever happened between them going forward, he had shown her what it was like to be in a healthy relationship. She would never again settle for less.
That was good, but she didn’t want anyone else. She wanted Jack, but when a man told you what mattered to him and you weren’t on that list...well, she had her pride. He’d been drunk when he’d slung those words at her. When someone was plastered, they had no filter. The things they said were their truths. How was she supposed to get past that?
“Would you be happy living in a convent, Rambo?”
That wouldn’t work. She liked sex too much to do without for the rest of her life. She couldn’t imagine never again feeling a man’s body wrapped around hers while he whispered dirty words into her ear, of seeing his male-satisfied smile when she shattered in his arms.
The problem was that Jack had ruined her. She didn’t want to be with some other man. Even if she cried herself to sleep again tonight, she couldn’t stand by and watch a good man’s life ruined. She would do everything in her power to right the wrong being done to him.
But what if he really is guilty? an annoying voice said in her head.
That voice could take a hike. If Jack was capable of doing something like that, then she would never again trust her judgment in men. She really would check herself into a nunnery as long as she could bring Rambo and her trusty vibrator along with her.
Rambo excitedly barked a greeting to Mark when he saw her brother standing on the porch, waiting for them. She unclipped his leash. “Go see your favorite guy.” Actually, Mark was his second favorite, Jack his first, but whatever.
She jogged up the porch steps. “Hungry? Want to order a pizza?” Her brother was always hungry, and she didn’t want to have a serious conversation with him while he wasn’t paying attention because his mind was on food.
“You’re weirding me out, Nic. You tell me to come home because we need to talk, and then you want to know if I want a pizza. What’s going on?”
“A lot.” She glanced at Rambo. “Let’s get him inside and fed, then we’ll talk.”
After filling Rambo’s bowl, she went into the living room. She sat on the sofa, curling her legs under her. Mark settled on the opposite side.
“Talk,” he said.
“It’s about Jack.” With the exception of what Jack had said to her—that was between the two of them—and his bloody knuckles, she told her brother everything that had happened from Jack’s doctor appointment until now.
“No way. Jack wouldn’t hurt someone enough to put them in a coma. He just wouldn’t. Even if he lost his cool and did do something like that, he’s too smart to just dump Lane behind the building.”
She hadn’t thought of that, and he was right. Come to think of it, she couldn’t believe Jack would disappear from Asheville Service Dogs without explanation. “Has he explained to anyone at your dog place why he’s not showing up?”
“Not to anyone I’ve talked to, but the owner’s out of town for a few days. Jack probably talked to him.”
Both she and Mark had called Jack, gone by his house at various times—Mark more than her—and it was as if he’d disappeared from the face of the earth after being released from jail.
* * *
Jack walked back into his house after being away for two days. Following him in, Dakota made a noise that sounded like a sigh of contentment at being home again. “Home sweet home, huh, girl?”
He’d made a quick trip to Virginia to see his home base commander, preferring to explain in person the shitstorm he was in the middle of. Captain Pendley wasn’t happy about the charges against Jack, but said he believed in Jack’s innocence, which was a relief. When Jack updated him on the condition of his shoulder, he’d encouraged Jack to consider other opportunities besides opting out of the navy. Jack appreciated the captain’s optimism that the mess he was in would be straightened out, so he’d agreed to think about it. Problem was, he couldn’t see himself at a desk job, about all he was fit for.
Before he left, he’d called both his attorney and Deke so they’d know where he was. He hadn’t heard from either of them since then, so he could only assume that nothing had changed, that he was still going to be prosecuted. A quick call to Vickey Boyd confirmed his assumption.
“Damn it to hell,” he muttered after hanging up.
He stared at the phone, longing to call the one person he wanted to talk to the most. No, he wouldn’t, couldn’t do it. If he couldn’t prove his innocence, he would go to prison. It was one thing to ask Nichole to wait for him when he went on deployment. He would not ask or expect her to wait around for a man who would have the title of ex-convict when he got out. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he couldn’t bear her someday thinking he was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
She was better off without him, and although he regretted the way he’d treated her, he hoped she hated him now enough not to be sad. He was sad enough for the both of them.
The other person he needed to talk to was Ron Kitterman. He’d had a brief conversation with Ron before going to see his commander. Hoping that by the time he got back home the cops would have realized they had the wrong man, he’d only told Ron that he had to return to base for a few days. Since his innocence was still in question, it was time to level with the man. He unpacked his duffel, then headed for Asheville Service Dogs.
Ron wasn’t there, but one of the volunteers said he was expected back any minute. Since he owed Ron an explanation and apology, he decided to wait. What else did he have to do?
A few minutes later, a car pulled up and a young woman got out. A small boy exited from the back seat. She looked around, and seeing him, headed his way.
“Do you work here?” she asked.
Jack wasn’t sure how to answer. Did he still work here? He guessed that would depend on how Ron felt after Jack talked to him. “Yes, ma’am.” It was the only thing he knew to say without dumping all his shit on her.
“My daddy needs a helping dog,” the boy said.
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” A helping dog... Jack liked that. He guessed the boy to be around eight. “I’m Jack. The man you need to talk—”
“Daddy was in the war. He has PS... PT... What does he have, Mama? I can never remember.”
“He has PTSD, honey.” She turned sad eyes to Jack. “He’s out of the army now, but he’s not the same.” She glanced at her son. “We’re worried about him.”
“Is he disabled from an injury?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it sounds like you need a different kind of dog from what we train here.”
“So he can’t have a dog?” she said.
She looked like she was about to cry, and Jack couldn’t bring himself to send her away. Her husband
was a brother-in-arms, and he couldn’t turn his back on a brother in need. He squatted in front of the boy. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Nigel. But Mama and Daddy call me Junior. My daddy was Nigel first.”
“Well, Junior, if I help your daddy get a dog, your dad will have to go through training with it. Since the dog will be living in your house, you’ll have to learn about a therapy dog right along with your dad. Are you good with that?”
“Yes, sir. I want him to be happy again.”
The problems Jack faced paled against this boy’s longing to have his happy father back. “Then let’s see what we can do to make that happen.” He stood. “Mrs....”
“Jacoby. Brenda Jacoby. You can really help us?”
He really could, but not if he was in prison. What could he promise this woman and her son and be able to follow through on before he disappeared without an explanation? He could at least find them a good dog match and get them started while finding someone to finish the dog’s training.
“As I said, the dogs here are trained specifically for people who are disabled.” He eyed the car that was at least ten years old. “It’s possible the owner will consider training a dog for what your husband needs. He’ll return shortly, and you can speak with him. Have you considered the cost of a trained dog?”
“Maybe a thousand dollars? I was hoping I could make payments.”
“Mrs. Jacoby, you’d be looking at a minimum of ten thousand, probably more.”
Her eyes widened. “Dollars?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Junior tugged on her arm. “Mama, you can have the money in my piggy bank.”
The boy was breaking his heart.
Tears pooled in her eyes. “That’s so sweet, honey, but I’m afraid we still won’t have enough.”
“I can help you, though. If you want me to.”
“How can you? Are you going to write me a check?”
He heard the sarcasm in her voice, but it was the defeat in her eyes that gutted him. “I wish I could, but what I can do is help you find a good dog, and then work with the dog and your husband.” At least until he went to prison, but he’d make sure someone continued the training.