****
Amanda stood in the parking lot and stared at the nondescript brick building with Bison County Sheriff in thick block letters mounted across the front.
Without wanting to, she flash-backed to the last time she’d been obliged to visit a law enforcement office. When she was desperate to obtain a restraining order against a husband who felt it was okay to use his wife as a punching bag when everyday events at the office didn’t go quite the way he wanted.
After years of what she now recognized as verbal abuse, the beating episode was the first, and last, time Jaime ever raised a hand to her. More stunned than injured at the initial blow, survival instinct took over. Fueled by that and anger, she managed a decent job at defending herself, even landed a few well placed licks before leaving him, and everything she owned, behind. She didn’t bother to count the number of ‘I’m so sorry’ messages left on her cell before she ditched that number and got a new one.
She cleared her mind of so many bad memories and focused on avoiding the myriad of water filled pot holes and puddles in the crumbling asphalt of the parking lot and strode to the heavy glass and chrome entry door. Having come through the physical and emotional horrors Jaime chose to dish out, she would survive listening to pathetic excuses from one more jock fueled on ego and testosterone who failed to grasp the choice of no.
According to the message Donaldson left on her cell phone, Barry would meet her here, Riley Sparks in tow. After the two finished their all important practice.
She shook her head as she pulled open a second glass and chrome door. God forbid something as minor as sexual assault get in the way of their precious practice time.
Passing through the security station and metal detector with ease, she headed down the hallway as directed by a deputy and rounded the corner. A series of plastic chairs lined one side of another, wider hallway with three doors leading off it. With neither Barry nor Riley in sight, she walked over to a small window and peered out at what appeared to be an exercise area of some sort. A basketball hoop hung with a frayed net that had seen better days, stood alone at one end of a square cement patio.
“You got here ahead of us. I figured you would.”
Hearing Barry’s voice, she took it slow before she turned.
In neatly pressed khakis and street shoes, he looked as if he’d just climbed out of the shower. Moisture darkened the opened collar of his short sleeved sport shirt, and his hair was combed but damp, and face clean shaven. She imagined, as always, that he smelled good, too.
Hard as it was, she brought her focus to the task at hand, and made herself look past him. “Where’s Riley?”
“Getting a snack from the vending machine by the back door. He said he’d catch up with me.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Donaldson wanted him watched every minute.”
“I doubt he meant that literally.” He stepped closer and the familiar scent of freshly applied aftershave reached out and wrapped around her. “The kid just finished a pretty grueling practice with barely time to clean up and get over here, let alone stop somewhere for lunch.”
She moved out of sensory range and threw an arm up to her forehead. “How absolutely dreadful for both of you.”
“Excuse us for doing our job.”
Arm returned to her side, she made a point to study him back. “Now that you’ve delivered him to me, you can leave.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea? The sheriff might not appreciate you sitting in.” She lifted one side of her long hair over one shoulder to let is swish down her back. “I can handle this part myself.”
“Uh, Mr. Carlson?”
Barry glanced up at a female deputy. “Yes?”
As she approached them, Amanda noticed a gap between the buttons of her uniform shirt revealed a scant amount of cleavage. Though she abhorred it, she watched to see if Barry picked up on it too.
“The secretary, Penny Pounder, said you were down here.”
“I am.” He seemed unsure what else to say. “Did you need something?”
The woman, who’d been staring, blinked as Barry spoke. “No. I just wondered if you needed anything.”
“No thanks, I’m fine,” he offered with a slight smile.
“Let me know if you do,” she said and continued down the hall.
“I will,” he answered. “I didn’t see your car in the lot.” He addressed Amanda as if the intrusion had never happened.
“I drove Roger’s vehicle.”
“Where’s yours?”
“I loaned it to a friend.”
“Again? Anyone I know?”
“One of my neighbors.” She didn’t owe him an explanation, but when he acted as if he expected her to go on, she gave one anyway. “A single mother with a sick child and no other means of transportation.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“She has an unreliable boyfriend.”
Though his mouth crooked into a half smile, what seemed to be sadness pulled at the edges of his eyes. “Boyfriends can do that. Be unreliable.”
She wasn’t about to buy into whatever he was selling. “There’s no excuse for immaturity. This one fathered the child.”
“Oh.”
“Did you bring the Jag?” Seeking to change the subject, she uttered the first conversational tidbit to enter her mind. “That will have the tongues around here wagging overtime.”
“I may be an idiot about some things, but not that. I got a company car, though not the GM’s.”
“Really. You’re going to tell me I one-upped you with the company vehicle I was given to drive?”
Barry opened his mouth, but before he could say something even more asinine, Riley Sparks appeared from around the corner carrying a bag of chips and bottle of water.
“Hey, Miss Marsh,” he said, making minimal eye contact.
She waved off the open bag of chips he offered. “No thanks. I can’t eat when I’m facing something like this.” She hoped he’d take the hint and understand the gravity of what was about to happen.
“You’re lucky,” he said. “I have to eat when I’m nervous.” He made his way over to Barry. “Boy, coach, I am so glad you’re sticking by me in this.”
“We’re all on the same side here, Riley.” Barry jerked his thumb toward his chest then, with an outstretched palm, indicated Amanda. “Your side.”
“We all work for the Hornets’ organization,” she corrected.
Barry looked at her as if she’d just sprouted a second head but, smartly, kept his mouth shut about her comment. “How are you holding up, kid?”
Amanda didn’t try to muffle a huff of disapproval as Barry clamped a hand on the player’s shoulder.
“I’m doin’ okay.” He glanced over at Amanda then lowered his voice. “This is all so much bullshit.”
When Barry responded, “I know,” she had to turn away completely.
Gaze once again trained out the window, pretending limitless concentration, she watched two men in black T-shirts and shorts play what appeared to be a game of pick up basketball and half-listened to Barry and Riley verbally rehash their recent baseball practice.
Was it all men? Or just the jocks who had such limited mental capacities about what really mattered in life?
Convinced neither one of the said jocks was going to begin to prepare any of them for what was to come, she turned back to the men, positioning herself directly in front of the Hornets rookie catcher. “You’re just fortunate this Goodwin girl is over eighteen. Or this entire mess would be a whole hell of a lot uglier than it already is.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“In your mind, maybe. According to the report, Gina Goodwin says you did.”
“But I didn’t.” Riley tossed the empty chip bag and water bottle into a nearby trashcan then walked over to slump into one of the chairs. “And you don’t believe me either.”
“Did you let her go the first time she s
aid no?” Amanda asked.
“Not exactly, I—”
“That's not a not exactly question, Mr. Sparks. Give me a yes or no.”
“No, but—”
“No but doesn’t apply here. She told you to stop and you—” her gaze strayed to Barry. “—didn’t.” Pleased when he looked away first, she brought her attention back to Riley. “It’s as simple as that.”
“This isn’t an easy thing for you to do,” Barry was quick to tell him. “I understand how it is when you care about someone and would do anything to protect them from being hurt.” Barry’s gaze sought out and caught Amanda’s. “Anything to protect them,” he said as he held onto her with his eyes.
That was when, wisely or not, she allowed past hurts to dictate present day actions as she walked slowly over to take a seat beside Riley. “If what you’re accused of turns out to be true,” her voice took on a strength that surprised even her, “I’ll use everything I have at my disposal to see you never play professional baseball anywhere. Ever again.”
“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
Astounded at Barry’s insensitive comment, if looks could kill, she hoped the one she sent him would cause considerable discomfort. “Excuse me?”
“I mean,” he said, “we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s leave it up to the law enforcement professionals to decide what really happened.”
“Gina and Riley are the only ones who will ever know what really happened.” Amanda had no idea what made her say that, but leveled a relentless stare at Barry.
“Is there a bathroom around here?” Riley asked and their gazes broke apart. “I need to take a le—” To his credit, Barry shot Riley a glare and, as if jerked up by a string attached to the back of his neck, he looked shyly over at Amanda. “I mean, I need to use the restroom. Please.”
“I saw one by the front hallway when we first came in,” Barry said. “Don’t be long. They could call us in at any time.”
Riley gave a nod of assent. “I won’t, Coach.”
Once they were alone, Barry wasted no time confronting Amanda. Not unexpected, seeing as how all jocks stuck together.
“What is up with you? Accusing the poor kid without even hearing his side? You do know who this Gina’s father is?” At her defiant look, he went on. “Riley’s accuser is none other than Gina Goodwin, here to visit her divorced father, Aaron Goodwin from our class at Summerville High. Second only to Rich Heade Junior as far as dickheads go. As in those who take pleasure spreading hate and discontent for the rest of us to deal with.”
“I know what a dickhead is, Barry. That doesn’t make any difference. I don’t think your boy realizes the severity of these accusations. But, at any rate,” she retorted when he gave no immediate answer. “I’m just doing my job. You should know all about that.”
When she turned toward the door, he grabbed her arm. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing.” His tone softened but, though he must have recognized she didn’t like it, he kept his grip on her arm. “Something, Amanda. Your comment meant something. Tell me.”
Not trusting her voice, she remained silent.
“What is it?” he asked again, and the grip on her arm became a gentle stroke of his palm over the top of her shoulder.
Unable to do much more than stare at the place where he touched her, she certainly wasn’t able to move away from him. “Don’t do that,” she said at last, then blinked a few times before she looked up at him. Nothing changed.
“Nothing has changed, Barry. You were all about the job, as in baseball, even back when we were in high school.”
“I don’t know if you remember, but I wasn’t the best at academics. I needed to pass some summer school classes, or the NCAA would have pulled my scholarship. I didn’t want to lose mine the way Rafe Archangeli lost his to Arizona State. I needed to get an education.”
“You needed to play baseball with an eye on a pro career.”
“Everyone needs a career. I happened to find one I enjoyed.”
“Yeah. I read all about how much you enjoyed your new position.”
She understood by the glint in his eye that he knew what she referred to. Even before his stature as a star player took off, he’d been publicly linked to any number of starlets and starlet wannabes. “My family knew enough to not believe everything they heard or read about me. Why couldn’t you do the same?”
Direct hit to the center of her heart, but she refused to accept any more blame and guilt. “You didn’t come home much after you left.”
“I barely stayed afloat with all my commitments. Practice, conditioning, travel. Studies.” He looked away, but not before she saw the jagged remains of bad memories enter his face. Had she underestimated the effect their last night together had on him?
As a warm palm slid down her arm, she jerked away before her suddenly waning defenses failed altogether.
“The sheriff’s ready to see you now. In Interview Room B, right next door. Are you ready for him?”
Neither Amanda nor Barry had heard McElroy’s deputy approach. Nor did they have an immediate answer for him.
Chapter Seven
Amanda recovered first. “You’ll need to give us a moment, please.” Her eyes never waivered from Barry’s as she spoke to the deputy. “Mr. Carlson needs to find Mr. Sparks.”
She turned away but not before he saw the remnants of a tear enter eyes that weren’t so direct and accusing anymore. An image which stayed with him as he went down the hall to summon Riley as Amanda directed. “They’re ready for us.”
As the kid joined him, Barry couldn’t help but notice that though much of the color had drained from his face, Riley’s expression carried an insolence he hadn’t seen before.
A defense mechanism for when the world starts ganging up on you? He decided not to share the thought. If Riley walked into the interview with that kind of attitude, chances are he’d be pegged as guilty before he uttered one word.
Amanda had done a number on his confidence.
Riley cast him a look he assumed was meant to show anger. “That gonna be your game face for this?”
“Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“The anger hasn’t hit your eyes. Those still show some hurt.”
Riley shrugged and looked away. “Whatever.”
“Let’s go see what this girl said about you.”
“She’s not this girl, as you say,” Riley broke in. “She has a name. It’s Gina.”
Yeah, kid. That’s the anger I was looking for.
Barry said no more as he brought them to Interview Room B with its brownish-beige walls and patterned carpet. An oblong table, surrounded by six high-backed chairs sat in the center of the room.
Newly appointed Bison County Sheriff Rory McElroy had taken his position at the head of the table then waited as everyone else took their seats. Though not a particularly large man, he was broad shouldered and solid with an intensity in his eyes put there, according to the talk Barry had heard around town, by some suffering that went beyond what he’d chosen to do for a living.
A dark haired lady yet to be introduced sat on the man’s right. Amanda sat beside her and, to Barry’s dismay, he and Riley had to take empty seats on the opposite side of the table.
Nothing like being the poster-picture of us versus them.
He had little time to contemplate the situation—him on one side, Amanda on the other—when McElroy pointed to the unknown woman.
“This is K. D. Cockrell from the District Attorney’s office. Ms. Cockrell is a Victim Advocate.”
While Riley gave only a shy wave, Barry made his most gentlemanly nod then rose to offer his hand and was a little surprised when she stood too. “Katie. How do you do?”
McElroy cleared his throat. “Not Katie,” he said quickly. “The initials K and D.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. The mistake’s happened to me be
fore.” Releasing her grip on their handshake, she reached beyond him to offer her hand across the table to Riley.
When everyone had retaken their seats, the sheriff began to lay out the ground rules for the meeting. “Right now, we’re at the fact finding stage,” he explained. “No formal charges have been filed as yet. We’re here to discuss what allegedly took place between one Riley Sparks and a Miss Gina Goodwin.”
Setting down the paper he read from, he glanced up at Riley. “And that’s where you come in, son. Care to tell us your side of what happened?”
Face washed in the red tint of embarrassment, Riley lifted a tortured gaze to Barry. “It’s personal stuff,” he mumbled. “I’m not sure I want to do that.”
“I’m not sure you have a choice,” Barry offered quietly. “Either you give a statement or the case proceeds to an arrest and court proceedings. And none of us wants that.”
Rory glanced up at them. “Your coach is right.”
“Is Gina being put through this, too?” Riley asked, then went on before anyone had a chance to answer. “Because if she is, I’m telling you right now. It’s nobody’s business but ours.”
“At the present time,” McElroy began again. “In the eyes of the law, Miss Goodwin is a victim.”
Riley started to get up. “If Gina’s a victim at all, she’s the victim of having an asshole for a father.”
Raising his head with measured slowness, the sheriff needed only a stern glance to put the boy back in his seat. But, when he spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle. “You’re upset and angry. That’s understandable.” Suddenly, the voice took on a warning edge. “But, that’s no excuse to use profanity.”
Riley eyed each lady in turn. “I’m sorry, but did Gina have to spill her guts about us, too?”
“She filed the original complaint,” Amanda spoke up quickly. “That’s what started this process.”
Raw pain took over Riley’s face and, for a moment, Barry was sure the poor kid was about to cry. “She did?”
Rory regarded the table top as if to measure his words. “Her father made the original call, then brought her down here to swear out the complaint.”
To Be, Or Not (Class of 85) Page 7
