by Kari Lemor
“Yes, Callie asked me to help her get the house cleaned up and cook some of the food. She can’t bend over as easily as she used to.”
Jack probably wouldn’t let her do much heavy lifting anyway.
“I’ve instructed the men to board up the windows. We’ll keep them that way until we’ve got the whole place ready. That way no one sees all the tools and materials we have inside and isn’t tempted to steal anything.”
“I’ll defer to your judgment on this one. I don’t have any experience in that capacity.”
A snippy comment rose on his tongue.
“Scott Holland?”
A middle-aged man and younger woman in dressy casual clothes walked through the door from outside.
“Can I help you? This is a construction site. You shouldn’t be here.”
Moving closer with Heather at his side, he watched as they took out badges.
“I’m Detective Tabitha Thomas. This is Detective Walter Harmon. We’re with the Waterbury Police Department.”
Holding out his hand, he said, “I’m Scott Holland, and this is my partner, Heather Silva.”
Detective Harmon shook his hand though Thomas stood stiffly with her hands at her side, an envelope in one of them.
Heather looked at him sharply. “Did you file a report on the accident with the police?”
“Yeah, not that I expect anything to come of it, but I wanted it documented since so many things have gone wrong the past few months. But I filed it here in town, not in Waterbury.”
“We’re not here about an accident report, Mr. Holland. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?”
“Where were you Wednesday night of this week?” Harmon scribbled on a notepad in front of him.
Wednesday. “I went to a bar in downtown Waterbury after work and had a beer with my cousin. Then I went home.”
“The name of the bar?”
“Jake’s.”
“Can anyone verify your whereabouts after you left the bar?”
Scott shook his head. “I was home by myself.”
“Do you know a woman named Carla Findley?”
“No. What does she have to do with me?”
“We’d like your permission to search your vehicle.”
“My vehicle? What are you looking for?”
Detective Thomas ran one hand through her dark cropped hair and lifted the envelope. “We do have a search warrant but we were hoping you’d cooperate without it.”
“It’s parked out back. What is this about?”
“Do you have the keys?” Thomas began to walk to the door so Scott followed, digging the keys from his pocket.
Heather and Harmon came up behind as they went down the few steps to the back lot that they’d finally cleaned up enough to park cars in. Thomas held out her hand for the keys. He held them up but didn’t release them yet.
“You still haven’t told me what this is about.”
Harmon pulled out some latex gloves and slipped them on. “We’re working on an assault case.”
“And my truck was identified in it?”
Neither one answered, but Harmon took the keys and unlocked the truck then began digging inside. Thomas climbed in the back.
“Scott?” Heather sidled closer, touching his arm.
He didn’t have any answers and it didn’t look like he was going to get any right now. Hopefully whoever had filed the charges had gotten the wrong vehicle. There were tons of black trucks in the area.
“Do you have a key to this toolbox?” Thomas asked, pointing to his industrial size container that was clamped onto the front of the bed.
“It’s on the key chain your partner has.”
“Walt, I need that key.”
Harmon tossed the key chain to her and she proceeded to open his toolbox then rummaged through his tools.
“What do my tools have to do with what you’re looking for? I assume it was a hit and run. Shouldn’t you be checking for dents in the fenders and stuff?”
Thomas slammed the toolbox shut and kicked at the tarp crumpled in the corner. Bending over, she looked closer at the material. What the heck was so interesting in there? He’d recently hauled some lumber in, so it couldn’t be much more than wood chips and sawdust.
Pulling a plastic bag from inside her coat, she used a corner of the tarp to pick something up. An adjustable wrench. How did that get there? He was meticulous about putting his tools back in the box. He couldn’t afford to keep buying new tools if the old ones got wet and rusted.
“I’ve got something here, Walt.”
Thomas jumped out of the back of the truck bed as her partner climbed from the cab. She’d put the wrench in the bag.
“What is so interesting about my wrench? And what the hell is this all about? What assault are we talking about?”
“There’s a bit of blood on this and a few hairs stuck in the screw.” Thomas’s eyes lit up and a smirk split her face.
Blood? And hair? Moving closer he gazed at the evidence bag. A tiny bit of red dotted the metal surface, but the hair was a vivid shade of aqua. Aqua? He glanced down at his arm and the still noticeable scratches. Shit. Another fuck-up, but this one was moved to a whole different level.
“Heather,” he mumbled his eyes searching her concerned face. “Do you know a good lawyer?”
Her hand clutched his arm tighter. “What’s going on, Scott?”
“I don’t know. But I’m beginning to get the feeling all these little inconveniences weren’t simply coincidental.”
“Sir,” Harmon addressed him, “I think you should come down to the station with us. If you feel you need a lawyer, they can meet you there.”
“Am I being arrested? Because if so, I want to know what the charges are.”
“We merely need you for questioning right now, Mr. Holland. We can provide you with more information once we get to the station. It might be best if you rode with us. We’re parked out front. We’ll need to impound your vehicle.”
What would they do if he refused? The lady cop looked like she was itching to whip out her handcuffs and slap them on him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, though. Once he explained it all to them, they’d apologize and let him go, right? Okay, they might not apologize, but he didn’t care. As long as everything got cleared up.
“What do you want me to do?” Heather’s anxious expression warmed him. “Should I follow you down?”
“No, but you should call Jack and let him know what’s happening. Not that I even know. Just tell him.”
Lifting his hand, he stroked his fingers down her cheek. “Stay near your phone. I’m hoping this will be over with fast and I’ll need a ride back here.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
As he got into the back of the dark-colored Crown Victoria, he liked the idea of Heather waiting for him. Is this how Jack felt when he returned each night to Callie and Jonathan? If it was, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Hopefully he’d get a chance to explore it further. With the way his luck had been lately though it was a long shot.
* * * *
The tick of the clock echoed in the still room. Scott ran his hands through his hair again, taking a deep breath as he paced. He’d been escorted here about twenty minutes ago and been told someone would be with him soon. Glancing around the stark room, he wondered if they were watching him behind the mirror. Waiting to see if he’d crack? Like in the cop shows he watched too much of. He’d texted Drew on his way over. Hopefully, his friend could help him figure this out.
He sat in the wooden chair near the table and rested his head in his hands. Since he’d bought the mill building four months ago, too many problems had cropped up. Now this. They hadn’t given him any more information, but seeing the aqua-colored hair on the wrench provided him with some of the answers he need
ed. The crazy lady from the bar a few days ago. Damn, had it been a set-up? Or was she simply spreading more craziness with an assault story?
The door opened and the two detectives walked in. Thomas moved to the wall near the mirror while Harmon sat across from him putting a folder on the table.
“Mr. Holland, sorry it took awhile. We had a few things we needed to process first.”
“You want to tell me what this is about?”
The detective pulled out a card and started reading. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
“Do I need a lawyer here?” Even if Drew did show up, there was no way he could represent him. He worked for the district attorney.
“It’s your right. Do you want one here for questioning?”
“I didn’t do anything, so why would I need one?”
“I’m simply clarifying. You are agreeing to be questioned without an attorney present?”
Nodding his head, Scott wished he had thought about this a bit more. But he wanted the truth out and this over with. He hadn’t done anything.
“You claim you were in a bar called Jake’s on Wednesday night at about six PM,” Harmon stated.
“Yes, I told you I had one drink with my cousin then went home.”
“And you don’t know a woman named Carla Findley?”
“No.” The blue-haired lady?
“Surveillance tape at Jake’s says otherwise,” Thomas interrupted, her tone accusatory.
“Is she young with aqua streaks in her hair?”
“Then you do know her?”
“I’d never seen her before that night. And I haven’t seen her since. She stumbled into me then threw a tizzy fit when I tried to keep her from falling.”
“That made you mad?” Thomas sneered.
“Not mad, no. I was curious why she was having such a fit. She almost looked afraid and I thought someone might be bothering her.”
“So you followed her out of the bar?”
“No, I paid my tab and left. I never saw her after that.”
Thomas took a few steps closer and leaned on the table. “The wrench we found in your truck says otherwise.”
“What exactly is this lady saying I did?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Opening the folder, Harmon picked up a picture, flipping it in his direction. Fuck. The woman’s face was barely recognizable. Eyes swollen and red, lip cut and bloody, and bruises dotting her cheeks. Her blue hair was apparent, though.
“Holy shit. I did not do this. Aside from the few minutes in the bar I never saw her again.”
Harmon tilted his head. “And you have no one who can verify your whereabouts after you left the bar?”
Damn it, no. Why hadn’t he gone to Heather’s to have her tend to his scratches? She may have kicked him out, but at least he’d have an alibi.
“No, I told you I went home. By myself. I had another few beers and watched the game.”
“Do you often drink that much, Mr. Holland?” Thomas asked.
“It was a few beers. I’d only had one at the bar. I certainly wasn’t drunk. Not then. And I never touched that lady. She said I did this to her?”
Harmon put the picture back in the file. “She didn’t come willingly to the station. Someone reported her passed out a few streets over from Jake’s. The hospital called us and we took the report.”
Thomas leaned closer. “She said it was some guy she met in a bar who wouldn’t take no for an answer. We processed her clothing and jewelry and found your fingerprints on her bracelet. Plus the footage at Jake’s showed us your confrontation.”
His heart beat faster at the implications of this evidence. “It wasn’t a confrontation. I only tried to help her.” Taking a deep breath to control his temper, he continued, “My fingerprints are on her bracelet because she almost fell and I grabbed her to keep her steady. If you look at the footage you’ll see I didn’t do anything to her.”
“She seemed awfully upset in the video.”
Scott shook his head. “I have no idea why she started flipping out. I didn’t do anything except help her up.”
“You say you had nothing to do with her assault yet your knuckles are all bruised and cut. Like you hit something a few times. There are bruises on your face too.”
“We had an accident on the job site a few days ago. I got them then.” He glanced at his hands. Would they believe him? He certainly had witnesses for that.
“Did you see a doctor?”
“No, it wasn’t that serious. My partner cleaned them up for me.”
“How did you get those scratches on your arm? From the accident too?”
Running his fingers along the healing skin, Scott said, “No, that lady, Carla you said her name was, scratched me when she pulled away.”
Thomas narrowed her eyes. “Why would she have to pull away if you weren’t hurting her?”
“I thought you people said you looked at the security tape.” He was getting worked up and that wasn’t good. Deep breath. Keep it calm. Like when you were under fire in the sandbox.
“We did.”
“Can’t you see that I didn’t hurt her in any way?”
Harmon shrugged. “There were a few people in the way so we can’t see much except Ms. Findley and her reactions. As you said, she looked anxious and afraid.”
How could he convince these people he was the good guy? The odds weren’t looking too favorable.
“Ms. Findley claims you followed her out of the bar then forced her near your truck parked in a dark lot. You attempted to gain sexual favors from her. When she refused, you started beating on her. She fought back, kicking and punching, but at one point you grabbed the wrench from your vehicle and struck her with it. She said noise from a group of people caught your attention and she was able to get away. She stumbled into the alley and doesn’t remember anything until the paramedics showed up.”
Heat crawled up Scott’s neck and rushed through his blood. What the heck did this chick have against him?
“I don’t know why she’s saying all this, but I’m telling you I never touched her after the bar.”
“But you admit you did touch her in the bar?” Thomas said. “We’ve got DNA from under her fingernails. Her hair, and I assume her blood, on a wrench found in your vehicle, your fingerprints on her bracelet. Not to mention the video evidence of you having an altercation with her in the bar. That’s pretty damning evidence, Mr. Holland. Are you sure you don’t want to give us a statement?”
He stayed quiet. Anxiety and rage filled him but screaming at these people sure wasn’t the way to convince them he was innocent.
“Have you looked at my background?” he finally said, needing them to know the truth. “I’ve never been arrested, have no violent tendencies, and run a legal prosperous business. I have no reason to attack this woman.”
Harmon flipped through the file in front of him. “It says here you were in Afghanistan for a few years.”
“Yes.” Where was he going with that information? Didn’t service to your country deserve bonus points.
“War can do terrible things to someone’s mind. Were you traumatized while over there?” Thomas asked, her lips pursed. “Perhaps there was some sort of flashback and you attacked Ms. Findley, not realizing who she was.”
“I wasn’t having a flashback and I don’t have PTSD.” Not that he didn’t have nightmares occasionally, but he’d certainly never tell them that. It wasn’t relevant.
“You were upset about the recent accident on the job site and decided to take out your frustrations on her when she wouldn’t concede to your advances.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, I never touched her?” Hi
s tone showed his annoyance and he flinched at the anger coming through. Stay in control. Don’t let them get to you.
Thomas pulled the file closer to her then pushed aside a few of the sheets. Damn, what did they have in there?
“What is your connection to the Northside Dragons?”
Shit, this was getting too hot.
“The street gang?” he stalled. “What do they have to do with this?”
“According to our intelligence, your company has hired quite a few members of the gang.”
“I don’t hire anyone who is still in a street gang. All my employees have to go through a rigorous training. They stay clean and legal while they’re working for me.”
“And yet you employ dozens of known former gang members, but only from the Northside Dragons. I’d like to know what your connection is. Why that gang and not another one?”
Did he tell the truth or shrug it off? What would be better for his case?
“I helped out the sister of one of them once and they know I’ll give them a fair shake if they want to get out. I have nothing to do with the gang itself.”
“Did you assault Ms. Findley as a favor to the Northside Dragons?”
“What? No. I admit to hiring some of their former members but I have no knowledge of any of their dealings.” That much was true. He kept his nose out of their business, happily.
“You know, Mr. Holland, this doesn’t look good for you.” Thomas looked downright smug.
“I don’t know what else to say to you to make you understand I had nothing to do with assaulting Ms. Findley. Maybe you should spend some time finding the real culprit instead of harassing me.”
“This information”—Thomas pointed to the file still open on the table—“indicates we have found the perpetrator.”
Looking at Harmon, Scott hoped to find more sympathy. The detective’s face was set and he shook his head.
“I’m afraid we do have enough evidence to charge you with assault and battery. The victim identified your picture plus the wrench and fingerprints.”
“Scott Holland, you are under arrest for assault, battery, attempted rape…”
The words melted into the pounding of his heart, so loud he though his head might explode. This shit was real.
