by M. S. Parker
Had Allen come to him and said he’d thought he was sick...and Jasper had seen it as an opportunity?
The idea made me sick to my stomach, but I couldn’t stop it from taking root.
Had Jasper done the tests, seen that Allen was fine, but then thought that maybe this was his chance? Had he known his friend well enough to know that if Allen thought he was going to die a horrible, slow death, he’d end it? And if Jasper had known that, had he decided that the best way to get what he wanted was to tell Allen that he was dying?
It was too horrible to consider, but there it was.
Had Jasper wanted me enough to set in motion my husband’s suicide?
Had he maybe even suggested the option to Allen?
I swallowed hard and rubbed at my arms again, but the friction did nothing against the chill inside me.
“Jasper, tell me the truth. All of it.”
“I have.” He shook his head. “How can you not believe me? After everything...”
I looked down at the file and then back up at Jasper. He’d lied to me before. Now I was finding out that everything in our past was essentially a lie too. He’d pretended to be my friend when he’d always wanted more. How could I believe he was telling the truth now?
“Get out.”
He stared at me even though I knew he’d heard me.
“I mean it, Jasper.” I made my voice as hard as I could. “I don’t believe you. I don’t trust you.”
He flinched.
“Leave.”
He held my gaze for a moment and then turned around and walked away without a word. It wasn’t until the door closed behind him that I let myself give in to the tears.
Chapter 25
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
I’d already spent so much of the past five months crying that I hated it. I hated the physical feeling of it as much or more than the emotional part of it. But I couldn’t stop myself. I was torn up inside. I wanted to believe Jasper, but there were so many things stacked against him. And there was no way to find out the truth. Allen couldn’t vouch for his friend, couldn’t tell me if Jasper was lying or being honest. It was only Jasper’s word against the physical evidence I had.
I spent the rest of Friday night and into the early hours of Saturday morning curled up in my bed, staring into the darkness and wondering how I’d gotten here. How, in less than a year, had things gone so wrong? I was supposed to be with my husband, trying to get pregnant or planning for a baby. I wasn’t supposed to be alone in my house, crying over the betrayal of my new lover, my husband’s best friend.
My life was so fucked up.
When I thought about it, I had to admit that was a large part of why I was so upset. Things had just started to look like they were getting back to normal. Sure, there had still been a few things that still needed to be worked out, but it wasn’t the chaos and uncertainty of before. I had my home. No one was going to take that from me. I was teaching and the routine was familiar and good. Things with Jasper had been solid and we’d been falling into the rhythm of living together.
Now it had all gone to shit.
Again.
I knew I had to accept responsibility for parts of it. I had been the one to go through Jasper’s files and then read Allen’s emails. But, whether or not I’d done either of those things, the past had still happened. Allen had still believed he was dying and he’d still killed himself. Whatever Jasper’s role in that had been, it wouldn’t have changed if I’d left the box alone and never found out any of it.
My relationship with Jasper was my own fault though. The first night we’d slept together, I’d kissed him. I’d forgiven him after I’d gotten Allen’s letter in the mail. I’d been the one who’d kept asking him to come around since the beginning, simply because I hadn’t wanted to be alone. I’d been the one to push things forward. I’d asked him to move in with me. My heartbreak had been my own doing.
Now I had another choice to make and whatever happened as a result would rest solely on me.
It was that decision that actually kept me awake all night, not crying over Jasper and Allen. I had to decide what to do with the new information I’d stumbled upon. I hadn’t taken Allen’s letter to the police because I hadn’t wanted Jasper to get in trouble for falsifying Allen’s medical records. But now it looked like Jasper hadn’t done that. It had been Allen he’d lied to, not the insurance company.
All of the choices and possibilities ran circles in my mind as the minutes slowly ticked past. When it finally hit five o’clock, I knew there was no point in staying in bed any longer, no matter how much I wanted to pull the blankets over my head and forget everything that had happened.
Forgetting, unfortunately, wasn’t really an option. Even if I stayed in bed, I’d be constantly reminded that the bed was empty. That the two men I’d brought into it were gone.
I took a long, hot shower and the white noise of the water helped calm my thoughts for a short while. As soon as I climbed out of the shower, however, everything came rushing back. I knew the longer I waited to make my decision, the harder it would be. And if I did go to the police, I was sure that the detectives working Allen’s case would find my delay curious. I knew at least Detective Reed was suspicious of me. I’d gotten the impression that he was the kind of man who had a chip on his shoulder when it came to women in general. I hoped Detective Rheingard was more interested in justice than blaming me, but if I kept putting things off, even he would have to wonder why.
It wasn’t until I started thinking about how the two detectives would react to me bringing in the letter and files that I realized I was seriously considering turning over evidence that could lead to Jasper being arrested for Allen’s death.
I sank down on the edge of my bed, my hand automatically continuing to towel dry my hair. Could I do that? I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Jasper had done anything, but the suspicions were there. Was that enough to possibly ruin his life? But if he had done it, didn’t I want to see him arrested, to see him pay for taking Allen from me? How much was justice for my husband worth?
That was the real question, I knew.
I’d told Jasper I didn’t trust him, to leave, and that might have ruined things between us for good, but there was always the possibility that I was wrong. That he hadn’t done anything and, in the far reaches of possibility, would still want to be with me.
If I went to the police, however, that slim chance would disappear, of that I had no doubt. It was one thing to react in anger and grief, another to make a deliberate decision that could ruin his life.
But if there was a chance that I was right and Jasper had set things in motion for Allen to kill himself, then I owed it to Allen to go to the police.
Didn’t I?
I buried my head in my hands.
When Jasper and I had first gotten together, I’d felt a bit guilty, but I’d known any feelings of having betrayed Allen had been residual. Allen was gone. Jasper was here. I hadn’t been choosing one over the other. I’d gone with how I’d felt. This, however, was making me choose. Justice for Allen or freedom for Jasper. That was simplifying it quite a bit since I had no way of knowing for certain what the outcome would be, but no matter what choice I made, I’d be putting one man above the other.
I cared about Jasper. I truly did. But the physical evidence was there. And I’d been with Allen for eight years. If Jasper was guilty and got away with it, I’d never forgive myself. But if he was innocent, surely the detectives would find that out. I’d lose him, but at least he wouldn’t be in trouble for something he hadn’t done.
I had to trust in the system, right?
Besides, how could the police run a thorough investigation if they didn’t have all the evidence?
I knew I was trying to justify it to myself, but the logical arguments were hard to push away.
I dressed and went into the office, pulling up Jasper’s email on Allen’s laptop. I printed two copies, putting one in the desk and ta
king the other one with me as I got Allen’s letter and made a copy of that. The copy went into the desk and the original joined the copy of the email. Once I had that, I went out into the living room and picked up the file.
My heart was racing as I walked into the police station twenty minutes later. The desk sergeant gestured towards the back, but I already knew where Reed and Rheingard’s desks were. I didn’t actually want to talk to either one, but I knew I had to give these files to someone and if I went straight to them, maybe they’d finally realize that I’d had nothing to do with Allen’s death.
“Mrs. Lockwood,” Detective Rheingard said as he stood.
Detective Reed was already on his feet, leaning against his desk, but he straightened as I got closer. He glanced over at the other detective, their expressions unreadable.
“I have some information that might be important.” I wasn’t about to tell them what I suspected. If Jasper was guilty, the detectives would find it on their own. If he wasn’t, they’d know that Allen had committed suicide. Either way, the case would be closed.
I held out the files and Detective Rheingard took them.
“We were actually just going to come see you,” Reed said.
My stomach twisted. That didn’t sound good.
Rheingard set the papers and file down on his desk and glanced at his partner. Reed nodded.
“Shae Lockwood,” Rheingard began. “You’re under arrest for the death of Allen Lockwood. You have the right to remain sil
Continues in A Wicked Truth
A Wicked Truth
Chapter 1
“Shae Lockwood, you're under arrest for the death of Allen Lockwood. You have the right to remain silent...”
This couldn't be happening.
It had to be a dream. A nightmare.
Except I could still hear Detective Rheingard reading me my rights, and I could feel his hand on my elbow as he led me through the station over to what I could only assume was processing. Still, everything had that surreal quality I associated with dreams and nightmares. The way the faces around me blurred, how time moved in fits and starts, the heaviness in my limbs that made me feel like I was moving through mud.
I followed the directions I was given. Offered my hands for fingerprint scans. Turned to be photographed. I handed over my purse and jewelry, emptied my pockets. It wasn't until I was sitting in a small, windowless room that I realized they'd taken my engagement and wedding rings too. And that was when I realized I'd still been wearing them. Even though I'd been widowed in June, and it was now almost Thanksgiving, I hadn't thought to take off my rings. Not even when I'd started sleeping with Jasper or after he'd moved in. And he'd never once suggested I remove them.
Jasper.
His name was like a punch in the stomach. I'd come to the police station because I'd found information that could possibly have implicated Jasper in the death of his best friend, my late husband. At the very least, it indicated negligence of some kind. I wasn't entirely sure what the legal ramifications were for having lied to a patient about having a terminal illness, resulting in that patient committing suicide, but there had to be something.
I'd come in on my own, brought Allen's medical records, as well as an email from Jasper to Allen suggesting a larger life insurance policy, and a letter I'd received from Allen a few months after his death. A letter that said he'd committed suicide due to the disease he'd been diagnosed with. A disease that Jasper had told Allen he had, but that the medical records I'd found proved a lie.
Instead of answering questions about this new evidence, however, I found myself being arrested for Allen's death.
The only sound in the room was my finger tapping on the top of the table as I waited. I was usually a fairly patient person – to be a second grade teacher, it was pretty much a requirement – but the detectives who'd been assigned to look into Allen's death were definitely testing me.
I'd known they'd been suspicious of me from the first moment we'd met. At least, Detective Reed had been. When it had become clear that Jasper and I had been spending a lot of time together, that suspicion had grown. I'd told myself they'd only been doing their job. After all, when someone died under mysterious circumstances, the spouse was always the first suspect. And Allen having died while the two of us were sky-diving definitely fit under the “mysterious” category.
Everyone had assumed it had been an accident, that Allen's chute simply hadn't opened. I'd thought the same thing until I'd gotten his letter and he'd revealed that it had been intentional. He'd done it because he'd known that an insurance policy wouldn't pay out for suicide, and he hadn't wanted to live through the end his disease would've put him through.
Or, at least, I'd thought everyone else had assumed it was an accident. Now, I saw the detectives thought Allen's death had been intentional. I just couldn't figure out what sort of evidence they possibly could've had to convince them I was a murderer.
“Mrs. Lockwood.” Detective Reed came in first, followed by the slightly older Detective Rheingard. The latter carried a stack of files.
I didn't return the greeting. In the fifteen minutes I'd been left in here alone, my shock had turned into anger. They could've just asked me whatever questions they had. I would've cooperated. They hadn't needed to arrest me, especially not in the middle of their squad room with everyone in the police department watching. It'd be all over St. Helena before lunch.
“I'm sorry about all of that,” Rheingard said as he sat in the chair across from me. “Procedure, you understand.”
In my head, I'd always considered Rheingard the good cop to Reed's bad cop. Now I was beginning to think neither of them had been the good cop to begin with. I bit back my sharp retort and didn't say anything. I did, after all, have the right to remain silent.
“What are these?” Reed pulled the files Rheingard had been carrying over to him. “A letter, an email and some medical records? You just 'happened' to find them and brought them in out of the goodness of your heart.”
I struggled to keep my voice even as I explained, “I received the letter from Allen at the beginning of October. The mailman who brought it to my door apologized and said that it had been lost in the mail for months. I believe Allen meant for me to get it shortly after he died.”
“But it's typed,” Reed said. “How do you know it's from your late husband?”
“He signed it.”
“He typed his name,” Reed countered.
“What would be the point in someone else sending me a letter like this?” I asked, curbing the annoyance in my voice. “Four months after he died, and someone's going to make up a story like that? Why? To mess with me?”
“You have had a bit of bad luck when it comes to people lately,” Rheingard interjected. “Legal battles with your in-laws, a woman claiming to have had a child with Mr. Lockwood, a fire at the vineyard.”
He was right on all of those counts. Allen's family had been coming after me for inheriting Allen's trust and all of his property, but the judge had already ruled that the vineyard was mine. The trust was still being contested. The paternity issue had already been taken care of too. The man who was actually Jenny Vargas's father had the test results to prove it, and he'd filed for custody of the little girl while charges were being brought against Aime Vargas for extortion, among other things. As for the fire, well, I knew the Lockwoods had been involved in that, even if there hadn't been any charges filed yet.
“I don't see what a letter from Allen has to do with any of that.” I crossed my arms over my chest, grateful I wasn't handcuffed and could fidget.
“If it's real, it would mean that you'll lose that million dollar insurance policy,” Rheingard said.
“Maybe that's why you didn't bring it in to begin with,” Reed put in. “You wanted to cash in that million dollars, and you knew that suicide would void the payout.”
“Jasper Whitehall was Allen's doctor. I confronted him with the letter, and he admitted that Allen had been sick.” My
stomach churned when I said Jasper's name, but I was able to keep my face blank.
“Then what's this?” Reed pointed to the top file on the pile. “Allen's medical records show that he wasn't sick at all.”
“Which is why I brought this stuff to you,” I said. If they would've let me explain all of this before arresting me, it would've made things so much easier. “I was looking through a box and found Allen's medical records. After I read through them, I began to suspect that Jasper had been lying to me and to Allen about Allen being sick. I remembered that I still had Allen's laptop, so I went on it and found that email from Jasper to Allen talking about the life insurance policy, and Jasper telling Allen that he'd find the money to start his clinic somewhere. After Allen's death, I found out that he'd left Jasper a million dollars from his trust.”
Detective Rheingard leaned back in his seat and gave me a scrutinizing look. “How did you happen to be looking through a box of medical files? I'm assuming your new boyfriend didn't have them lying around.”
Heat flooded my face, but I refused to look down. I hadn't done anything wrong. “Jasper left his father's practice and is starting a clinic. He brought home several boxes of things and put them in the study. I was helping unpack, and found the box by accident. I saw Allen's name and read the file.”
“Home?” Detective Reed's eyes took on a light I didn't particularly like.
“Jasper is living with me at the vineyard,” I said, lifting my chin. “Or at least he was until I confronted him with the file and the email. When he said he didn't know about either one, I kicked him out.”
“So you're saying that the day we planned on coming to arrest you, you just so happen to bring us information to implicate your lover in the death of your husband?” Reed smirked at me. “Pardon me if I don't believe you.”
“What reason do I have to lie?” I asked.
“To throw suspicion onto someone other than yourself,” Rheingard countered.
