by Kari Lemor
“The DNA results from the skin under her fingernails won’t be back for a few weeks, but until then we have enough to hold you.”
The DNA. That wasn’t going to help him at all. He knew damn well what they’d find. The DNA would be his and that might be the final nail in his coffin.
Chapter 10
Heather paced back and forth in front of the police station, her heart beating rapidly. Jack sat on the bench next to her, texting on his phone. Scott had been in there for over three hours. What the hell was going on? Checking her phone again to make sure he hadn’t called, she sighed and shoved it back in her jeans pocket.
Two hours ago they’d gone inside asking about Scott, but hadn’t gotten any information. They’d been told to wait until he contacted them. No way was she going home when he was sitting inside being questioned. She still didn’t know what this was all about. A sexual assault on a woman? No freakin’ way. Not Scott Holland. He hadn’t taken advantage of her when she’d been naked in bed next to him. And willing. She didn’t believe he’d do it to some stranger.
“What is taking them so long?”
Looking up, Jack pocketed his phone then shrugged. “I don’t know. I made a few calls to see if I could get some answers. Nothing yet.”
“Heather? Jack?”
Turning at the sound, relief settled in when Drew Thayer trotted down the steps of the station.
“Drew. Have you seen Scott? What happened? Is he coming out?” She looked behind him, hoping to see the tousled brown waves and blue eyes heading in her direction. Nothing.
Drew’s expression tightened. “I’m not his attorney so I didn’t see him, but I got some information. Working for the DA’s office has some perks.”
“The only thing I know is he was being questioned about some assault on a woman.”
“You said they questioned him about Wednesday?” Jack asked. “We had a drink at a bar, but nothing happened while I was there.”
Looking back at the building, Drew took her elbow and escorted her to the bench Jack had been sitting on. Jack followed then stood next to Drew, his hands on his hips.
“Apparently there was a woman assaulted Wednesday night. It must have happened after you left, Jack. Witnesses reported they’d had some sort of altercation. Scott’s statement said he was simply helping her but the woman claims he came on to her then followed her outside.”
“Why would he do that?” Scott certainly didn’t need to go running after women.
“He claims he didn’t. But the woman was beaten badly and Scott’s fingerprints were on her bracelet. They also got the surveillance tape from the bar and have the evidence that she looked scared when he grabbed her.”
“Grabbed her?” Jack asked. “Why?”
“I can only tell you what’s in the reports. According to the woman, Scott made sexual advances on her then followed her out and assaulted her when she resisted them. She said he started beating on her and even hit her with a wrench.”
“The one they found in his truck?” Her lungs dried up. She needed air.
“Yes. It has blood and hair on it. They’ll send it to the lab for analysis but the hair had blue tints on it and the woman also has blue highlights in her hair. They also found skin under her fingernails. They sent that off to the lab as well.”
“He didn’t do it.” Her voice shook at the thought that Scott was being accused of something so heinous.
“Of course he didn’t,” Jack growled in agreement.
“I know. I don’t think he did either but he’s got scratches on his arm that match fingernail marks and he admitted that she’d scratched him. The DNA will confirm this and that’s not good.”
“How do we prove it wasn’t him?”
“We need to find him a good lawyer.”
“You’re a good lawyer.”
He shook his head and frowned. “I work for the prosecutor’s office. I can’t defend him.”
A strange thought entered her head. “You won’t prosecute him, will you?”
“No, I don’t work in this district, but I do know the ADA who’s been assigned his case. Virginia Dennis. She’s usually fair, but she has a stick up her ass about domestic abuse and loves to set examples of men who hurt women. I’m afraid she’ll go for the maximum penalty.”
Horror filled her, running through her blood. “But it won’t get that far, right? I mean, he’s innocent. They’ll figure that out.”
“I hope so.” Drew’s brows creased. Like he wasn’t sure?
“What do you mean, you hope so?” Her voice rose a few octaves. “What about truth, justice, and the American way? The law should protect him.”
Clearing his throat, Jack said, “Yeah, that worked well for me, huh?”
“I won’t lie and say we always get it right. I don’t personally think Scott capable of anything like this. However, the woman was beat hard, and they have a lot of evidence that points to him. Plus she claims it was him. Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know. All I can think is it has something to do with all the crap that has happened since we started this building project.”
Drew tilted his head. “Yeah, Scott mentioned he’s had some problems with it.”
“It’s making him a little crazy,” Jack said.
“What is this woman’s name? Have they done any background checks on her?”
“Not really, and I’m not supposed to give you any information. I’ve already jeopardized my job simply with what we’ve discussed. I’ll keep digging myself, see what I can find on her. I’ll have to do it quietly, though. If the ADA finds out I’m linked to Scott and am tampering with the case, it would be bad for both of us.”
Jack shuffled quietly. “I’ll try to call in a few favors, too.”
“What will they do with him now?” The thought of Scott hanging out in jail scared her.
“They formally charged him and have been processing his information. Fingerprints, photos, that type of stuff. He’ll be sent to the Hartford Correctional Facility for the weekend and be arraigned on Tuesday.”
“They’re putting him in jail for the three-day weekend? What about bail?”
“He has to be arraigned first and court is closed for the day. It won’t open again until after the holiday. I have a feeling Detective Thomas took her time with the questioning so it would be too late for him to be arraigned today. When I spoke with her she seemed thrilled to get Scott off the streets.”
Moisture welled in her eyes and she blinked it back. Sometimes Scott drove her nuts, but she’d never want to see him behind bars. Lowering himself to the bench, Jack hugged her to his shoulder.
“Can I see him before he goes? Bring him something?”
“Like a cake with a file inside?” Drew grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was worried about his friend too. “No, no visitors while he’s in lock-up.”
Her eyes blurred as she stared at the police station and the squad cars parked in the side lot. People moved in and out. One set of figures caught her attention.
“Is that Scott?” She stood to get a better view.
Jack took her elbow standing too. Drew grabbed her other arm. Had she started to move toward Scott? With his head and shoulders down, he walked between two uniformed officers, his hands cuffed together. They gently pushed him into the back seat of a squad car, shut the door, and got in the front.
Jack’s fingers tightened on her arm. “I’ll call around and see if I can get in touch with a lawyer for him. With the long weekend, I’m not sure how many would be available. Otherwise he gets a court-appointed lawyer.”
“Let me talk to my dad and see what he suggests.” She hated asking her dad for favors, but she’d do it for Scott. No expense was too much. “If he doesn’t know anyone then I’ll call you.”
The squad car with Scott inside rolled past the
m. He sat in the middle, his head facing the window. As their eyes met, his mouth tightened and he looked down.
Running his hand down her arm, Drew said, “Are you all right to get home by yourself?”
“I’ll make sure she gets there,” Jack offered.
“I’m fine. I don’t need either of you worrying about me. Thank you for the information.”
Moving toward her car on autopilot, Jack and Drew watching from a distance, her mind roamed to the man who had been hauled away to jail. He wasn’t fine. What would he be like after three days in the county jail? And what about after? Bail? A hearing? What if the lawyer couldn’t prove he hadn’t done it?
“No, he’s innocent,” she stated, and a few people looked curiously at her. They had to prove he was. Although it was supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. Was the evidence they had against him strong enough to convict him?
She took it back. She wasn’t fine. Her stomach churned and dread filled her bones at the thought of Scott being sent to prison for something he hadn’t done.
* * * *
The lock clicked behind him and Scott flinched.
“Step forward, please.” The burly guard indicated the line he had to stand on. Far enough away so he couldn’t hurt anyone, but close enough to be subdued if needed? Like that would happen with his hands in cuffs.
“Scott Holland,” the police officer who had driven him here said. “Waterbury PD. Sexual assault, battery, and attempted rape.”
Flinching at the charges, he kept his temper under control. It sucked being treated like a criminal when he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong. Except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or it might not have mattered where he’d been. He suspected this whole thing was a set up. Why the hell else would that bitch say he’d beat her? But why was he being set up? It all came back to the renovation project.
And he’d be here until Tuesday morning. More than three days. Fuck. He was supposed to be enjoying the long weekend with his cousin and friends. He’d been hoping to entice Heather to the beach with him. Seeing her in a bathing suit would be a highlight. Not that he hadn’t seen her in less. Shit. This sucked.
The guard eyed him up and down then reached behind him for some orange fabric. Oh, yay, just his color.
“Go in there, put these on. Leave your clothes on the bench.”
“Um…” He held up his cuffed hands.
“Go inside and put your hands through the door.”
Oh, there was a slot in the door. How convenient. Also a nice big window.
“No curtains for privacy,” he joked. The guard didn’t look amused. Clothes plopped in his arms then he walked inside the small enclosure. After the door closed behind him, he dropped the orange ball of fabric on the bench then stuck his hands through the slot. The cuffs were removed and he rubbed his wrists. They hadn’t been that tight but they’d still chafed a bit.
“You can keep on your socks and underwear. Leave the boots on the floor. Bang on the door when you’re done.”
As quick as he could, he shed his pants and shirt then shrugged into the orange pants and top. The material was lightweight and loose, like scrubs. He took a second to tighten the tie on the pants then turned back toward the door. As soon as he knocked the guard appeared. At least he hadn’t been staring at him while he changed.
“Hands through the door.”
He complied and the cuffs were replaced. Would he need to wear them the whole freakin’ weekend?
“Sit over there.” The guard pointed to a bench in the outer room and another guard took his boots for a thorough search of them. Were they expecting to find a weapon?
“Put these back on.”
No casual chatter for these guys. Once his boots were on, the guard who’d checked them put his hand out toward the back door. Big and metal, with a window in the middle, it clanked open and they stepped through. It took a few minutes of walking through long hallways then up a set of stairs to finally reach their destination.
“Orientation first.”
The room was small with a half dozen chairs on one side. He was pushed into one and his handcuffs were connected to a chain attached to the chair. As if running away were an option.
For the next few hours he was lectured on all the rules of the facility and what to expect. Not that he’d be allowed to roam around at all. Apparently when you were in here simply for “lock-up,” the term for the safe keep of people who hadn’t been arraigned yet, you were stuck in the cell the whole time. Yeah, he felt so fucking safe.
“Unit six, cell nineteen.”
The same guard was back, escorting him through a few more hallways and big metal doors. Each door had to be locked then unlocked as they went through. To keep him safe. Right.
“You’re in here. Meals will be delivered twice a day.”
“Do I get one tonight?” It had been midafternoon when the detectives had picked him up and he hadn’t eaten a big lunch. Although whether his stomach could handle food right now was another question entirely.
“Kitchen’s closed. You’ll get something tomorrow. There’s a sink in there if you need water.”
“Thanks.” Did he catch the deep sarcasm?
Walking into the tiny seven-by-ten-foot room, Scott sighed. Luxury accommodations. Lots of privacy. At least he didn’t have a roommate.
At the sound of the door closing, he turned.
“Hands through here.”
Slipping his hands through the slot, he sighed as the cuffs were removed. Apparently, he wouldn’t be wearing them all weekend.
“Lights out at ten.” The guard left, walking down the corridor, a few comments from other inmates floating on the air. Looking through the lovely shade of orange bars, to match his outfit maybe, he gritted his teeth. Never in his life had he expected to be in a place like this.
Sighing, he turned and examined the cell. Small. Metal slabs jutted out from the right forming bunk beds, their thin mattresses folded together. Hmm, did he want top or bottom? Another small piece of metal came out on the left with a round pedestal-type bench secured to the floor underneath. Excellent, he had a desk. He could spend the weekend catching up on his correspondence.
The piece de resistance was the lovely metal toilet/sink combo in the back corner of the cell. Peeking closer, he saw it was at least somewhat clean. And damned if he didn’t need to use it now.
The lights flickered then went out. Must be ten. Not that he’d know since they took his watch. But he hadn’t left the police station until after six and they’d lectured to him here for a few hours. At least he’d have a tiny bit of privacy without the glaring lights, although they were still on out in the cell block.
After taking care of business and thoroughly washing his hands and face, he stood there clenching his fists then shaking them. No towel. Deciding on the bottom bunk, he unfolded the mattress, sniffing it. Not the sweet scent of Heather, that’s for sure.
Heather. Damn. The look on her face as they’d pulled out of the police station had almost gutted him. She’d looked like someone had kicked her puppy. What had she been doing there? Thank God Jack had been there for her. He’d keep an eye out for the woman. She was Callie’s best friend after all. He’d told her he’d call when he was free to go. That plan had gone FUBAR. And wouldn’t happen for more than three days.
But would he even be allowed to go free then? Would the evidence be enough to actually convict him? Why hadn’t he asked for a lawyer when they’d first brought him in? He certainly needed one now. He’d been told one would review his case and meet him at the arraignment on Tuesday. That was comforting. Probably some pimply-faced recent college grad who’d been last in his class and the only job he could get was standing next to low-life criminals, pretending to defend them.
Sinking onto the thin mattress, he closed his eyes then snapped them open again as a guard s
trolled by, flipped on the light then peeked in. Sure, he’d get some good sleep tonight with the light streaming in, the constant walking vigil of the guards. The light clicked off as the guard moved to the next cell.
He settled down again and begged his body to relax. His thoughts turned back to Heather. Her silky skin pressed against his in the Vermont chalet. His mouth skimming over her heated body after the wedding. The moans of ecstasy that escaped her throat as he brought her to the edge.
Shit. Now he was rock hard. And he sure wouldn’t ask anyone around here to help him fix that. Instead he imagined Heather next to him, snuggled tight to his chest, kind of like she’d done at the hotel. He’d never admit to anyone how much he’d enjoyed having her close. For now, though, it might be the only thing to keep him sane.
* * * *
“Did you get in to see Scott?” Heather rubbed her hands together as she stared intently at Jack.
“No visitors allowed,” he answered, his jaw tight.
“Yeah, that’s the response I got too.” Turning to the counter, she grabbed the plate of cut veggies and moved to the kitchen door.
Drew held it open for her. “When you’re in lock-up waiting for arraignment there’s no leaving your cell. It’s regulations.”
“I hate those regulations.” Placing the food on the picnic table, she turned, taking a deep breath. Scott should be here. His Army buddies had dropped in and he was missing it. Callie had talked about how much Jack relied on his friends, how close they were. Scott was part of this group.
Callie took the plate Jack held out then arranged it on the table. “Charlotte didn’t want to come today, Heather? You did tell her she was invited?”
Sweet Callie, always trying to get her mind off her troubles. “Yes, I told her. She’s got plans with some friends but said thanks.”
“What’s the plan for getting Scott out of this shit storm?” Nick asked, then tipped his bottle of beer, taking a long swallow. The men wanted to stay on the topic of their friend. She couldn’t disagree.
