by Penny Reid
“Jenn isn’t in danger,” Isaac said with all the chill of a sea turtle. That’s to say, very chill.
“How can you be sure?” I endeavored to mimic his chillness, desperately wanting what he said to be true.
“The plan to arrest Jenn has been in the works for weeks, a backup plan if they couldn’t get the evidence needed to arrest my mother. They were always going to arrest Jenn right after the reading of the will, using her surprise inheritance as motive. That, plus the weak alibi, is more than enough to bring her in but not to charge her.”
I ignored the comment about Jenn’s weak alibi—as I was Jenn’s alibi and she was mine—and asked, “How do you know this? And if inheritance is motive enough for Jenn, then why isn’t hatred enough of a motive for Diane? Why not arrest Diane already? They’d get her fingerprints for sure.”
He ignored my questions, instead answering one I didn’t ask, “The police got their hands on my father’s will the day after the murder, before it was sent to probate, way before the reading yesterday. My father changed his will one month before he died. That looked bad for my sister.”
“Did you think Jenn did it?” I don’t know why, but I needed to know.
Isaac breathed in and out several times, his expression infuriatingly inscrutable, and finally grumbled, “It is a possibility that didn’t seem far-fetched.”
I gripped the back of the seat again. How Jenn’s brother answered this next question would determine whether he’d be walking out of here alive. “So you, what? Went to the police with your suspicions?”
“No. No way.” Finally, some emotion. “I discovered the FBI’s plan to arrest Jenn after it had been put into motion. Those devices in your house, listening, watching, those are mine. I needed to know what y’all were up to.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Wait, you—”
“Yes.”
For the first time in my life, I couldn’t keep up. “You thought your sister killed her own father, so you put cameras in her house?” How could he possibly think this?
“Like I said, I needed to know what y’all were up to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d kill him.” Isaac was back to being chill as a sea turtle despite the violence of his words, but I could see he meant what he said.
I must’ve been looking at him with surprise, or what he interpreted as horror, because he continued, “You don’t know what it was like in that house. Jenn made the best of it every day. And my mother, she—she was both a lifeline and a lead weight around my neck. But our father—”
Isaac glanced to the side, blinking once slowly as he inhaled through his nose. “I don’t know how Jenn did it. She could always deal better than me.”
“And you left her,” Jethro said, his voice lacking any judgment. Maybe because he’d also left us. “You left your sister in that house, with him.”
“I had to get out. If I hadn’t, I would’ve killed him years ago.” Isaac’s glare shifted to me. “And Jenn had our momma to keep her safe.”
“A lifeline and a lead weight.” I shook my head at Isaac’s shitty justification for shitty actions. He didn’t deserve Jennifer in his life, and I made a pledge right then and there: Isaac Sylvester would never have contact with Jenn. He would never speak to her. He would never know her. He was out. Forever.
“I needed to know what you and Jenn were saying.” Isaac glanced to the side again. “I wanted to know before anybody else.”
I wiped a hand over my face once more, trying to focus. I had too many questions. “How’d you get your hands on DEA surveillance equipment?”
Isaac flinched with what looked like surprise, his eyes slicing to me. “How’d you know those were DEA?”
“Answer the question, Isaac.”
The muscle in his temple ticked. “None of your concern.”
“Really? None of my concern?” I wanted to laugh.
“That's need to know. How’d you know they were DEA?”
I threw his words right back at him. “That’s need to know.”
Something burned behind his eyes, but he put a leash on it, his voice even more tightly controlled, “Fine. You have your secrets, I have mine. But we both know for certain Jenn didn't do it.”
“But you thought she was guilty.”
“Before the will reading, I thought . . .” He looked to the side like he had twice before, his chest rising and falling. “It doesn’t matter. She didn’t do it. My mother didn’t do it.”
“And what would you have done if it had been Jenn?”
“I would’ve helped her.”
“I find that hard to believe, Twilight,” I spat. “And I think she would too.” Isaac winced, and then again, for a fourth time, looked to the side. This is his tell. I was certain of it. When Isaac Sylvester couldn’t mask his thoughts, he looked to the side. I made a mental note.
I felt Jethro’s eyes on me. I looked at him. Unmistakable concern had etched itself on his features. “You . . . you feeling okay?” he whispered bracingly.
Making a noncommittal head movement, I checked my watch again. I knew I wasn’t acting like myself; being so free with my thoughts, dislike; being forthright with those I didn’t trust. But with Jennifer arrested, my patience was threadbare.
I hadn’t slept.
I’d paced.
If something happens to her . . . I winced at the thought, my chest on fire. God, I wanted to tear the world apart. I shouldn’t be here.
“We’re running out of time.” Repo stepped forward. “What Isaac is trying to say is, they—the FBI, the police—they also think Jenn is innocent, but they’re tired of waiting out Diane. They’re trying to drive her out of the house, to the station where she’ll either confess out of fear for Jenn or she’ll slip up and leave a print they can lift.”
“Again, like Cletus already asked, if they’re so desperate for her prints, why not arrest her already? They have motive and a crap alibi.” I had a feeling Jethro was speaking so I didn’t have to.
“It’s her lawyer. Genevieve Taylor is notorious, a shark,” Isaac said, and though he remained chill, I got the sense he admired the woman. “They know if they mess up Diane’s arrest and her prints aren’t a match, they’re screwed. They don’t care about messing up with Jenn, they have no plan to charge her. But no one wants to arrest Diane until the case is airtight. However, if they lift her prints—legally—they’ll tie her to the bloody print on the car, and then that’s it.”
“Then Diane is arrested and charged, and Repo is turning state’s evidence to knock her charge down to manslaughter,” I filled in. Just like dominoes.
“So what do you want from Cletus?” Jethro crossed his arms again, his shoulder bumping mine, his voice hard.
Repo turned his pleading eyes to my brother. “We need to get Diane out of the house, out of Green Valley, and I want to use the wedding shower to do it.”
“You want to go on the run?” My brother obviously found this difficult to believe. “With Ms. Donner?”
“That’s right,” Repo confirmed.
“You think she’d go with you?” Jethro pressed. “Her life is here.”
“I do. She’s scared. The blackmail has her terrified. Even if I hadn’t told her to stay put in the house, I don’t think she’d leave anyway. At least with me, she wouldn’t be alone, waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“But she’d be looking over her shoulder for the police, waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Jethro lifted his hands, his entire demeanor communicating, what the hell are you thinking?
“And you’d leave the Wraiths?” I asked, quieting my mind as best I could so I could read Repo’s reaction to the question.
He didn’t hesitate. “For Diane? In a heartbeat.”
I believed him. I looked to Isaac and saw he believed him too. Which begged the question, Where did Isaac’s loyalties truly lie? With his mother? Jenn? The Wraiths? Repo? Why had he inserted himself into these matters?
“I’d ke
ep her safe.” Repo pointed to his chest with both hands. “I know how to do it. I know how to disappear. And it wouldn’t be forever. Just until y’all—you and Jenn—can clear her name. We need you to help.”
“Repo”—I shook my head because part of what he’d just said was nonsense—“you leave the Wraiths, you can never return. Maybe we clear Diane’s name, maybe she gets to come back. But you go with her, you’re never coming back.”
A moment stretched where the older man held my stare, his unwavering as though to communicate that these facts, as I’d spelled them out, did not bother him. “I know, Cletus. I know how it works. But I’m still going to do it. Diane is my priority.”
“Aren’t you worried?” Jethro examined the older man. “Leaving the Wraiths without a money man?”
“I have an apprentice.”
“Who?” I asked.
Repo lifted his chin. “Someone you think is smart.”
I didn’t get a chance to ponder his response other than to assess the veracity of it before Jethro tapped my arm. “But the wedding shower? When is—”
“Yes.” Repo cut in. “The shower. It’s the perfect cover. There will be a ton of people, confusion. We can—”
“No. No.” Now I cut in. “That won’t work.”
“Cletus, if she’s going to leave, the wedding shower gives her the best chance,” Repo beseeched. “I’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“No.” I shook my head adamantly. “They’ll be listening, watching. They’ll expect it. What would you have her do? Wear gloves? That won’t look suspicious. And besides, even if they weren’t expecting her to run, we need more time. We need days, not hours, before they figure it out.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Isaac asked, sounding like he really wanted to know, like maybe this was the real reason they’d asked us to come, and that gave me pause.
They want me to plan the escape, not just help execute it.
A new, simmering discontent burned like acid in my stomach. It was almost as though someone had informed them of my gift for helping folks escape untenable situations.
Burro is gonna pay for this. Later.
I pointed to Jenn’s brother. “Isaac.”
“Yes?”
“Isaac, you need to start visiting your momma this week.”
Repo narrowed his eyes on me. “Okay . . .?”
“He should come and go at odd times, always wearing his helmet until he’s inside the house, always leaving with the helmet on. Mother and son will talk about nothing important. He’ll become a regular but random visitor. After a time, they won’t mark him coming and going.”
“And how does that help us?” Isaac sounded interested, ready to put the plan into action.
“Because, after the wedding shower, Diane is still right where she’s supposed to be, at home and depressed. After the police knock on her door for some bullshit reason and see she’s home and that she didn’t make a run for it, that night or the very next day, Isaac will visit. Wearing his helmet. Diane will leave, dressed like Isaac, wearing his helmet.”
Repo and Isaac stared at me, then at each other.
Jethro chuckled. “That’s awesome.”
Isaac shook his head. “That’s crazy.”
“No, wait, this is a good idea.” Repo pointed at me, clearly seeing the genius in the plan.
“Cletus, my mother is five foot three. I am over six feet. It’ll never work.”
“It will work,” Jethro piped up, sounding cheerful, like maybe he missed his checkered past. Just a little.
“Jet is right, I’m right, it’ll work.” I sighed, tired, and checked my watch for what felt like the hundredth time. “They got cameras on the house from the road, not in the house.”
“How do you know whether they have cameras in the house?” Isaac growled.
“Need. To. Know.” It was just past noon. If they held Jenn for the full three days before releasing her, someone was going to pay dearly. I didn’t know who yet, but someone. “The law won’t notice how short or tall someone is with a camera that far away. We’ll get matching outfits, buy her a replica of his leather jacket, his cut, boots, everything. Make sure it looks like it fits the same from a distance. We’ll stuff it so she appears thick and muscled. All they’ll see is someone dressed like Isaac, leaving the house with a helmet on, just like Isaac always does.”
“But they are listening. They’ll know it was her who left, not me. They’ll hear that she’s gone. They got a wiretap, they’re listening.” Isaac shook his head, still trying to poke holes in my concrete fortress of a plan.
“That’s easy to fix.” I needed to wrap this up. “We record Diane now, in every room, her typical day, and we make sure she does the same thing at the same time—more or less—and when she leaves, we hit play. Again, in every room.”
“You want to . . .” Isaac’s attention turned inward, like he was trying to keep up. Good. It was his turn to be lost.
I went on, “We play two or three days on a loop. They pick up the sounds they expect to hear. That’ll give her a three- or four-day head start.”
“What about the bike? She doesn’t know how to ride a motorcycle.” Jet scratched his chin.
“Actually, she does.” Repo’s statement immediately drew our attention.
“She does?” Jet’s hand dropped.
“Yep. She rides,” the older man confirmed, looking proud. “She’s been driving my bike for weeks. I mean, she was. Before.”
“She rides.” I nodded. “It’s all set.”
“How does Isaac get out of there?”
I scowled at my brother and his question. Meet Jethro Winston, Mr. Monkey Wrench.
“He waits ’til dark, slips out the back,” I replied with the answer that should’ve been obvious.
Another Jethro question, “What if he gets caught?”
“I won’t get caught,” Isaac said, swinging his glare to me. “You’re good at this, Cletus.”
Uncertain whether this was meant as a compliment, I asked, “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
“What about me?” Repo rubbed his hands together, which was definitely his tell. The man was excited, anxious, restless, his typical laissez-faire demeanor nowhere in sight. “Where do I go? Where do I meet her?”
“Repo, Diane will meet you at the Dragon. Your job will be to get her out of Green Valley while leaving Isaac’s bike at the bar. Isaac will get himself over there, unseen, no one the wiser. Jenn and I will meet you at whatever safe house you pick.”
“What?!” Jethro, Repo, and Isaac all asked in unison.
I glared at each of them in turn, letting my attention linger on Isaac last. “I want those listening and recording devices out of Jenn’s house before she’s released, and I want to know how you got in and out of the house without tripping the system or being caught on the security cameras.”
“Fine, but—”
“And that dude in the white Ford? I want him to stop following me.”
“He loses you half the time anyway.” Isaac made like he was going to roll his eyes but seemed to catch himself just in time.
“He was one of yours?” I asked, inspecting him. I’d made the demand on a hunch without knowing for sure. But something I did know for sure: Isaac wasn’t just an Iron Wraith. He worked undercover for some part of the government, that much was clear. I suspected DEA. FBI was also a possibility.
Isaac didn’t answer, instead saying, “There’s no way you and Jenn are going to that safe house. You’ll be followed.”
“Nope.” I shook my head.
“How can you be so sure?” Repo asked, looking nervous.
“I have my ways of evading unwanted attention, and that’s all either of you need to know.”
“Trust him. He does,” Jet said.
I sent my brother a small smile, hoping he’d take it as confirmation that he and I were still good. Jet may have been a sketchy asshole in his youth, but he was a changed man. He’d
asked and I’d already forgiven him for everything, case closed. New details weren’t going to alter anything between us.
“I don’t know, Cletus.” Repo looked from Isaac to me. “Is the risk—”
“That’s my ask. That’s the price for my help.” I glared at Repo as I backed away. Their time was up. I needed to get back to Jenn. “If you want Diane safely out of town, away from the police and Farmer Miller’s threats, Jenn gets to say goodbye to her mother. Nonnegotiable.”
Chapter Fifteen
*Jenn*
“… the sentimental person thinks things will last. The romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won't.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
When I’d asked Billy how Cletus was doing, he said, “Don’t you worry about him.”
So I’d said, “Billy. Tell the truth.”
He’d said, “He wouldn’t want you to worry about him.”
Which I took to mean that Cletus was doing just about as well as I expected given he’d had to watch me be arrested and they hadn’t yet allowed him a visit. The truth was, other than worrying about him, I was probably doing much better than he was.
If I were going to be arrested and held in lockup, the sheriff’s station wasn’t bad. I knew all the deputies as I’d baked them birthday cakes every year and often brought in goodies for holidays. They gave me my own room, or cell. Evans played cards with me during his breaks. Monroe brought me a few books to pass the time. Boone checked in every hour or so during his administrative shift. He looked worried, asked if I needed anything, and apologized “for everything.”
My arrest wasn’t Boone’s fault, I felt sure of that, but he sure seemed to feel responsible. He’d taken the cuffs off as soon as we reached the police car and had walked beside me when we entered the station, remarking on the nice weather. I asked about his momma’s rose garden. We’d chatted more throughout the check-in process about his momma—or the “processing” process?—and I’d been offered coffee, tea, or water to drink as I’d waited for my lawyer. He insisted on taking my mug shot twice ’cause he said the first one was bad.
