“Yeah, Officer Dyer called me, too.” That didn’t surprise me, but what Jeff said next did. “He, um…he thinks I’m your boyfriend.”
Memories of that night came back. “Yeah, he assumed so the night…the night it happened.”
“I didn’t correct him because I didn’t want us to get in trouble. I hope that’s okay,” he said a little sheepishly. His blush looked adorable.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why would we get in trouble?”
“Remember? He let me take your sister with us when we went to the hospital that night? He thought it would be okay, even though I wasn’t a relative.”
I twisted my lips as I tried to remember, but the events blurred together. I believed Jeff, though. “Okay. I won’t blow our cover.”
He turned off the engine. “So, we’re partners in crime?”
I laughed and climbed out of the truck. “Partners in crime.”
* * * *
The police station, located inside City Hall, was fairly new—built less than ten years ago, I was pretty sure. A mixture of red brick, gray stone, and a textured white stone covered the large building, with a domed top in the middle of an otherwise flat roof and floor-to-ceiling windows in the front, on either side of the double entrance doors, and on the sides of the structure.
When we walked through the doors, a loud ringing began. A large, bearded police officer who looked like he could crush me with one squeeze stopped us.
“Empty your pockets,” he ordered.
I had only my wallet and phone, but Jeff had his wallet, phone, keys, a folded piece of paper, and his class ring. He always wore that thing, so it surprised me to see it off his finger.
Once the officer confirmed we weren’t carrying anything dangerous, he let us through the metal detectors. Jeff asked for directions, and he pointed us down a hallway. The marble floors gleamed, and I felt a little guilty for even walking on them.
When we reached the back room, I paused, my chest beginning to tighten again. Jeff looked at me, eyebrows up. I shook my head, letting him know I didn’t need to stop, and forced myself to continue through the open door.
The large room had eight big desks scattered throughout. Gray metal filing cabinets and a large white board lined one wall. Officer Dyer stood up, waving us over.
“How are you, Aaron?” he asked, clasping my hand as if we were old friends.
“Doing okay.”
He gave me a look like he knew I was bullshitting him, but he didn’t call me on it, and instead turned to my companion. “Jeff, right? How are you doing?”
“Good,” he answered, a little more believably than me.
“Have a seat, guys.” He gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. “I promise I’m going to try to make this as painless as possible.”
I took a seat as he handed us our statements from the night my father attacked my mom.
“I need you to review these and see if anything needs to be changed. If not, we need your signatures and I’ll send you on to speak to the attorney. One at a time, though.”
“Okay,” I said as I began to scan my statement. I hated how it brought back vivid memories of that evening, and I trembled, seeing the words in black and white.
Words like “kicking,” “screaming,” and “blood” popped out at me, and I felt that tightness in my chest again. I must have been breathing funny because Jeff whispered something to me.
“What?” I asked, pulling my gaze from the paper.
“I said, breathe.”
Breathe. Why was I having so much trouble with that? Fuck. I was a mess. I was falling apart, which only made my breathing turn ragged. The pounding in my head grew louder and I wildly glanced around the room, looking for an escape.
Until I felt his hand on my arm. “Breathe,” he reminded me again.
So I did. I closed my eyes and took slow, deep lungsful of air.
“Let it out,” he ordered when I held it too long.
My breath came out in a hard whoosh and I took another deep one, letting it out easier this time.
The pounding stopped and the tightness lessened. It didn’t go away completely, but it was better. I leaned back into my chair and glanced at Jeff out of the corner of my eye. He wasn’t staring at me—not bringing attention to my near-meltdown—and I had the strongest urge to kiss him for that. My face heated as I forced myself to finish reading what was in front of me.
The account seemed to be exactly as I remembered, so I told Officer Dyer it looked good. That appeared to make him happy because he handed me a pen and asked me to sign it. “I’ll forward a copy to the attorney. There’s already one in the file, but it wasn’t signed yet.”
Jeff finished reviewing his and signed it. Once completed, Officer Dyer led us back through the main hallway and across the lobby to the other side of the building, knocking at the door of an office with a nameplate reading Laura Morgan, D.A.
“Come in,” a voice rang out.
Dyer opened the door. “Laura, I have Aaron Pickard and his boyfriend, Jeff Leaton, here for you. Guys, this is our District Attorney, Laura Morgan.”
A beautiful woman with bright red-orange curly hair stood from behind the desk and gestured for us to have a seat. “Thanks, Officer. Boys, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
The door clicked shut behind us.
“First of all, Aaron, I’m truly sorry for the loss of your mother. How are you doing?” Her brow furrowed with concern, and compassion filled her eyes.
“Okay.” The lie came easier the second time around.
“Well, I doubt that, but that’s okay,” she said with a half-smile.
Damn. She’d called me on it, too. She was smart.
“I’ll be needing to talk to you both alone, but first I can get a few questions out of the way with both of you here.”
We both nodded our understanding. I was more than a little intimidated by her. She was petite, but had an aura that commanded respect. I’d seen it on Officer Dyer’s face. I hoped that meant she was good at her job.
“The charges against your father have been upgraded to murder. Now, his attorney has asked us to consider manslaughter, though I’m not interested in that. But I always make it a point to ask the family.”
“He has an attorney?” I wasn’t sure why that surprised me. Didn’t everyone get a lawyer?
She opened a tan folder and rifled through the documents. “Yes, a Mr. Cordon? Looks like he hired him the day after the incident. He’s actually a good defense attorney. Very expensive, too.”
I looked at Jeff and scrunched my brow. That didn’t make sense. “How can he afford that?” I was incredulous that he was spending money he didn’t have on a lawyer to fight the charges. Mom was dead because of him!
“Elizabeth Pickard. Does that name ring a bell? She hired the attorney.”
“That’s my aunt. My father’s sister. Why would she do that?” I felt as if I’d been slugged. “She and my mom used to be close. Well, until my uncle died of cancer a few years ago. But she wouldn’t help my father…she couldn’t.”
“Well, actually the loss of her husband could be part of the answer.”
I shook my head, not understanding.
“When a person loses someone close to them, they’re more likely to do anything possible to keep from losing another important person. The thought of losing her brother, albeit not to death—but still a loss—may be too hard for her.”
That pissed me off more than I could say. I wanted to hit something, but instead, I gritted my teeth and shut my mouth. Now wasn’t the time.
She confirmed the date, time, and address of what she referred to as “the incident” with Jeff and I before asking him to wait in the hall. She promised it wouldn’t take long, but I felt an emptiness I couldn’t explain when he walked out the door.
Something didn’t feel right. He hadn’t looked at me or touched me. Even before everything that had happened, we’d always been expressive and touchy with each other.
&
nbsp; I didn’t have time to consider the issue, though, as the attorney dove right in and talked with me. When she explained the difference in years for manslaughter and murder, there was no question for me. I wanted the murder charges.
“But I think it should be my grandparents’ decision,” I added. “I don’t want them to hurt any more than they already are. And if he’s going to drag this out for a long time and fight everything, it might be too hard for them. Especially my grandma.”
“Unfortunately, it could be a long process. In our country, each person is given the opportunity to dispute any charges.”
“But you have witnesses,” I pushed, angry with the idea of my father still being in control of the situation.
“Yes. But you are all young, and the defense could make things hard for you guys. Especially Pamela. You and Jeff are eighteen, which is good for us. Juries tend to believe witnesses that age. Under eighteen? Not so much. So there are a lot of things to consider.”
I was beginning to see that.
We ended up talking for about an hour, but the time went by pretty quickly. I felt bad for leaving Jeff out there so long, but the questions she asked were centered on the relationship between my parents and sometimes it became uncomfortable. I knew she needed answers, but it felt weird to be talking about things held secret for so long. She also shared a lot of information about the case and what could happen to my father. That helped me feel a little more grounded.
“I’ll be talking to you soon, Aaron. Go ahead and send Jeff in. I’ll need only a few minutes with him.”
“Thanks. It was great meeting you. I have to admit, I feel a little better about everything.” I shook her hand.
“And Aaron, if you need to talk to anyone, like a grief counselor, I have someone I can recommend.” She grabbed a business card from her desk, writing a name and number on the back. “This is my card, but I added Dr. Ottinger’s name and info. He’s the man I saw when my own mother died.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks.” I took the card, sliding it into my back pocket before walking out of the room.
Jeff pushed back from the wall he’d been leaning on. “Wow. I was getting worried. You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry it took so long. Just a lot to talk about. She wants you to go on in.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, even reached out his hand, but then he yanked it back and finally entered the office, shutting the door behind him.
Something was going on with Jeff and I intended to get to the bottom of it. Was he worried about being outed at school? I certainly wasn’t going to share his secret. Just because I made the decision to be open didn’t mean I’d push him to share his coming out with others until he was ready.
Deep down, it still bothered me he hadn’t told me the moment I’d come out to him. I believed him when he said he wasn’t embarrassed to be my friend. That worry had definitely been laid to rest. But still something gnawed at me. Something had kept him from telling me. Did he think I would blab? Then in the attorney’s office, he wouldn’t look at me. It was such a change from earlier in the truck.
Shit, this day had been crazy. Jeff had called my “incident” a panic attack. I was lucky he’d been there because it scared the crap out of me. I’d had some basic panicky feelings before, but today had been really awful. I dragged my fingers through my hair as I paced the hallway and waited for him.
Officer Dyer came around the corner, my grandparents following close behind. Pamela hurried around the officer and ran to my side.
“Hey! Are you already done?” Pamela asked tentatively, her nerves clearly getting the best of her.
“Yeah. It was easy.” I gave her a reassuring smile and darted my gaze to my grandpa. “Um, could I talk with you a minute?”
“Sure.” We walked to the end the hallway where we could be alone. “What’s going on, Aaron?”
I felt so sorry for him. He’d lost his daughter and was now saddled with Pamela and me. I vowed to myself, once again, that I’d do everything possible to make it easier on him. And Grandma. “I just finished talking with the District Attorney. Laura something.” Crap. Already forgot her last name. “Anyway, she said my…father…has a really expensive attorney. Did you know that?”
He shook his head. “Can’t say I’m surprised. He’s fighting for his life.”
“Aunt Elizabeth paid the retainer.”
He wiped at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. God, he looked exhausted. “Well, family does for family, Aaron. Again, it’s not a surprise, really.”
I swallowed my anger. I wasn’t going to share the information about the possible manslaughter plea. He needed to hear that from the lawyer.
“Jeff should be out any minute. Is there anything you need us to do while you and Grandma meet with Laura…” I pulled her card from my pocket. “Morgan?”
“Well, your grandmother and I wanted to talk with you today about making future plans. And we’d like to talk with Jeff’s mother as well.”
I nodded, not reminding him he’d already told me this. He was dealing with a lot.
“Also, Pamela asked about going to visit her dad.”
I jerked my head up. “Are you fu—I mean, is she kidding?” Why the hell would she want to see him?
“He’s still your dad, Aaron. I think she wants to see him behind bars to know she’s safe. But it’s also okay that she still loves him.”
I shook my head. “She can’t love him. He killed Mom!” I stomped away from him, fighting my anger. “Shit!” I huffed under my breath. This day was a roller-coaster of emotions, and I was done. Done with it all.
When I looked up, I realized I had returned to the police department office. I continued inside to Dyer’s desk and wondered if I’d subconsciously brought myself there. He waved his hand at the chair next to him. I took a seat and slunk down low, my arm balanced on the edge of the desk.
“Want to talk about it?”
“My grandpa just told me my sister wants to visit my father in jail.” I slammed my hand on the wood.
He stayed quiet while I tapped my fingers on the desk, fuming. I finally looked up and realized he was watching me.
I straightened up. “Sorry.”
“Aaron, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. There is no right or wrong way to feel when you’re in this kind of situation. Your dad belongs in jail.” He leaned back in his chair, his shirt pulling tight over his protruding gut. “There could be a lot of reasons she wants to see him.”
“Grandpa said she wanted to see him behind bars to feel safe.”
“That makes sense. Do you want to see him?”
“Fuck, no!” I cringed at the loudness of my voice. The fact I had just cussed at a cop did not escape me. “I’m sorry. This day…I’m just so messed up today.”
“Want anything to drink? A cold soda?”
I perked up a little. “Any Mountain Dew?” I hadn’t had any in days.
“You got it. Be right back.”
I slumped in the chair and let my head fall back. I was so worn down. In some ways, I felt like my life was spiraling out of control. Then sometimes I thought I was handling it well. At the sound of a can setting down on the desk, I opened my eyes and sighed. Mountain Dew could make pretty much anything better.
“Thanks,” I said as I popped the top. I chugged some and knew I’d pay for it later with a painful burp, but at that moment, I didn’t care.
I could actually feel the burn as the sugar and caffeine hit my blood stream and I wondered if that was how addicts felt. I pushed aside the thought for now—one thing at a time.
Dyer had grabbed himself a Coke, sitting next to the laptop. “I had an idea about your dad. How about I print up his mugshot, and if your grandparents think it’s okay for your sister to see it, you can show it to her? Maybe that’ll help her know she’s safe.”
“That’s an idea, but I’m not sure it would be enough.” I froze. “Oh, God. I just realized, he’s actually here in
this building, isn’t he?”
“He is. Do you want to visit him? If you do, I could go with you and Pamela.”
Shit. Words refused to fall from my lips.
“You don’t have to, Aaron. It was just an offer.”
“Maybe…maybe we should.” If Pamela really wanted to see him, maybe we should get it out of the way today so we could keep moving forward. I was eager to put him behind me. All of him. His hatred. His anger. The evil that seemed to permeate through him. I stood. “I’ll talk to my grandparents. Are you going to be here for a while?”
“All day. No rush. Just let me know.”
Just before I reached my grandparents in the main hall, Jeff exited the D.A.’s office, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t like earlier, though. It was because his sexiness blew me away. My face heated and I grew angry with myself. This was clearly the most inappropriate place and time to be thinking of my best friend like that.
He didn’t see me right away, and I watched as he goofed around with Pamela. She giggled, the first time I’d seen her happy in over a week. Jeff was one of those amazing people who always seemed to make others feel better.
He lifted his gaze and found me, a smile spreading across his face, but he looked away quickly and talked with my grandparents. Strange. Like he didn’t want to face me?
I straightened my shoulders and joined them. I explained what Dyer had offered to let us do, and my grandma immediately put her arm around Pamela and pulled her close.
“It’s not a good idea,” she insisted even as Grandpa voiced his approval.
“Honey, why not let them do this today so they can move on? It might be some sort of closure.”
“I don’t want that monster near our grandkids,” she said, her voice elevating with each word.
“Grandma, we wouldn’t be alone. I don’t really want to see him, but if Pamela does, I won’t let her go without me.”
She hugged Pamela tighter. “Do you want to see him?” she asked.
“Yes,” Pamela whispered, looking embarrassed, as if asking for something she shouldn’t.
Holding On Page 14
