Over a Styrofoam cup of coffee after the meeting, she told Dan she’d been sober for two years and was getting her life back together. She’d squeezed his hand and told him how sorry she was about Diana’s death. She’d given him her phone number and told him if he ever needed to talk to call her.
Dan hadn’t felt so hopeful in, well, he couldn’t remember when. Certainly before Diana’s death. He’d been so lost these past few years. She’d kept him steady, and without her, he hadn’t known quite what to do. All he’d wanted to do was numb himself to the loss and the loneliness and the fear that he hadn’t deserved her in the first place. He hadn’t valued her enough, and that’s why she’d been taken away from him.
The living room looked sad. The furniture Diana had chosen years ago and lovingly cared for was sagging and worn. The coffee and end tables bore scratches from the twins’ rambunctious behavior. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint. Hell, the whole house needed a major overhaul.
A project like that would be good for him. It’d keep him occupied. He’d start with the living room. Between meetings he’d patch and paint and maybe even shop for a new sofa. He fingered the piece of paper in his pocket. Maybe Paula would like to go furniture shopping with him.
He started toward the kitchen, aware now of a foreign sound coming from that direction. He proceeded cautiously until he stood in the arched entrance. Matty was hunched over the kitchen table, his face buried in his folded arms, shoulders heaving.
“Matty?”
Matty raised a tear-streaked face to stare at him. Snot dripped from his nose but he made no move to wipe it away. “What?” he said almost defiantly. But Dan could see his tone was meant to mask despair.
Dan took a step closer. Fear clutched at his heart. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Matty cry. Maybe at Diana’s funeral. But, Dan reminded himself, he hadn’t been seeing much of anything or anyone very clearly since then. “What’s wrong, son?”
Matty gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, great. Now I’m your son?” He swiped his hand across his face and rubbed it on his pants leg. His eyes dared Dan to answer the question, but underneath the disgusted tone, Dan sensed Matty’s vulnerability.
He’d been warned about this in rehab. He had amends to make. The people closest to him would be angry with him. They might not believe he’d changed or that they could trust him again. He would have to prove himself, and it wouldn’t be easy. The Serenity Prayer raced through his head. He couldn’t change what he’d done in the past. He could only move forward and try to be better and do better. Starting with his son.
He took another step closer, willing himself not to be as afraid of this moment as Matty apparently was. “You’ve always been my son. I just haven’t been much of a father to you.”
Matty stared at him. More tears welled in his eyes.
Dan inched closer. “I can be, though, if you give me a chance.”
Matty shook his head, his gaze sliding away from Dan’s. “You’ll hate me.”
“Never.”
At his adamant tone, Matty’s gaze snapped back. “I screwed up again. Big time.”
Dan laid a hand on Matty’s shoulder. “Then we’ll figure it out together. We’ll fix it.”
“I don’t think it can be fixed,” Matty muttered.
Dan hugged his son awkwardly against his side. “Oh, son, there’s very little in life that can’t be fixed.”
Surely it had been more than the couple of hours Donica had said it would be, yet Baylee had not seen a judge. The female guard who’d brought a meal on a tray had shrugged when Baylee asked if she knew what was going on. Baylee stared at the food, which looked decidedly unappealing even if she’d been able to muster any appetite. She drank the small carton of milk and nibbled on a sandwich of white bread spread with a thin layer of margarine.
Shortly after she’d finished eating, the guard returned and motioned her out of the cell.
She was led to a small conference room crowded with people. Ryan, Trey, Donica, Matty and her father were there. Jack Frost was there as well, along with a couple of other individuals she didn’t recognize.
Trey was wearing the same clothes he’d had on earlier, just as she was. He looked up when she entered, then looked away, focusing his attention anywhere but on her. Ryan whispered something to him and he nodded.
“Miss Westring, if you’d take a seat,” said one of the men she didn’t recognize. “I’m Detective Sommers. This is Assistant District Attorney James Canfield. I believe you’re acquainted with everyone else present.”
Baylee sat.
“Hi, honey,” her father said. He gave her a look that was encouraging and apologetic at the same time. She couldn’t help but stare at him. He looked like the father she vaguely remembered from childhood. His clothes were clean, his shirt tucked in. He’d gotten a haircut recently. He looked healthier than he ever had. She nodded at him and gave him a weak smile.
Matty, on the other hand, looked horrible. His eyes were puffy, his clear complexion mottled. He sat stiffly on the chair next to her father, his hands tucked beneath his legs.
She glanced at Ryan, but he was here in an official capacity as Trey’s attorney. His expression was stoic, although he inclined his head in her direction.
“Miss Westring,” Detective Sommers began. “Mr. Christopher. It appears we have an unusual situation on our hands, involving one of the members of the sheriff’s department. We’re still gathering evidence, but based on what your brother has told us, and after discussions with Mr. Canfield, we’re in agreement that all of the charges against both of you will be dropped.”
“Matty?” Baylee asked, turning to look at him. Her gaze moved from Matty, who wouldn’t meet her eyes, to her father to Jack Frost and the detective.
“Apparently, one of our deputies coerced your brother into planting the drugs that were found in your purse and in Mr. Christopher’s car. Matty has come forward and confessed. There are…extenuating circumstances surrounding his involvement. We’ve decided to allow Mr. Frost to determine what should be done considering Matty is a juvenile and already on probation.”
If her brain had been filled with quicksand, Baylee didn’t think she’d be any more confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Matty? You set us up? Why? After everything Trey did to help you—”
“I’m sorry!” Matty’s eyes welled. He looked Baylee in the eye. “I’m sorry.” He looked at Trey. “I’m sorry. It was dumb. I know. But I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s okay, Matty,” Trey said softly. “We all screw up.”
Baylee could deal with Matty later. She looked back at the detective. “You said something about extenuating circumstances?”
Detective Sommers looked at Jack Frost. He addressed Baylee’s question. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Matty repeatedly violated his curfew without consequences. Sp—er, the deputy in question caught him but didn’t report him. After a few incidents the deputy threatened Matty with arrest for crimes he had nothing to do with, unless Matty cooperated. Matty’s after-curfew activities were important enough to him that he made a difficult choice. The wrong choice, as it turns out. But with help from Matty’s family, I’m confident we’re going to work our way through this. Aren’t we, Matty?”
Matty lifted his head. “Yes, sir.”
“I still don’t understand. What were you doing that was so important, Matty?”
“I was helping this lady I know. She’s old and sick. Her grandson’s in Afghanistan and she’s alone…”
“She took care of Matty when he was a baby. Isn’t that right, Matty?” Her father put in.
“I wanted to help her,” Matty said stubbornly, his gaze on the table in front of him.
“We understand that now, son,” Dan said, patting Matty’s shoulder.
Baylee slumped back in her seat. “Justin caught you. Threatened to lock you up unless you helped him.”
Matty nodded.
She looked at Trey again,
but he was also staring at the table in front of him. She willed him to look at her, but he didn’t.
“Based on preliminary lab results, it appears the drugs we found are actually imitation. This coincides with what the deputy told your brother.” Detective Sommers said. “I’m sure the deputy in question thought nothing would come of this except to make a bit of trouble for the two of you. However, it’s recently become illegal in the state of North Carolina to possess a counterfeit controlled substance.
“We will be bringing charges against the deputy. He’s been suspended pending an investigation,” James Canfield said. “We may need more formal affidavits from you, Mr. Christopher, and from Miss Westring. Matty, we’ll expect you to testify against the deputy if we go to trial. Until then, Mr. Frost will be overseeing your probation and sending me regular reports.” He turned to Dan. “Mr. Westring, I expect you to keep a close watch over your son as well.”
Again, Dan clasped Matty’s shoulder. “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”
Canfield pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m sure Detective Sommers will take care of the formalities, but I do believe you are all free to go.”
“There’s a bit of paperwork to be done,” Danica told Baylee as they all stood and began to move out of the room. “You can wait in the lobby if you want. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes and they’ll release your belongings.”
Baylee nodded and followed Danica out. Trey and Ryan were deep in conversation several feet away. Dan approached her with Matty trailing reluctantly behind him.
“Honey, I’m sorry about all of this. I’m to blame. If I’d been there for Matty, been paying attention…” He lifted a hand and let it fall.
Baylee didn’t know what to say to her father. Everything he said was true. She wasn’t feeling very forgiving at the moment of either him or Matty. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Trey still talking to Ryan. She had an apology of her own to make. If she wanted Trey’s forgiveness, she would have to be forgiving.
“It’s all right, Dad. You’re here now. So is Matty.” She shifted her gaze to her brother.
“I’m sorry, Baylee.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he didn’t, as if the scope of what he’d done was so massive he had no words. He looked so miserable, Baylee knew she could forgive him.
“We should have been looking out for you,” she told him. “We let you down. All of us,” she said, looking at her father. She’d been as much out of her element in helping Matty as he had. The kid had had nowhere to turn.
“We’ll see you at home?” Dan asked.
“Yes. I’ll be there in a little while.”
Ryan and Trey approached.
“C’mon, son.” Dan put a hand on Matty’s shoulder.
“Wait.” Matty took the few steps necessary to meet Trey. Trey and Ryan halted.
“I know it isn’t enough to say I’m sorry, but I am.”
Trey held Matty’s gaze with his own for a few seconds before he nodded in acknowledgment. “I appreciate the apology.”
Matty may have hoped for more, but apparently Trey wasn’t in a forgiving mood at the moment. Her father and Matty left. Trey and Ryan made to walk past her. Baylee put her hand on Trey’s sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Ryan’s steps slowed but he continued on.
Trey stopped, but he didn’t look happy about it. Baylee dropped her hand. She looked into his eyes, shuttered now against her. “I’m sorry,” she said so softly she wasn’t sure he could hear her. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“No. You shouldn’t have,” Trey agreed. “I thought you and I—hell, I don’t know what I thought.” He glanced away at the sound of a throat clearing at the end of the corridor. Baylee looked that way to see Ryan, pointing at his watch. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
Trey walked away from her.
She’d lost the only man she’d ever truly wanted. That’s all she could think. She’d screwed everything up, been so ready to lay blame at Trey’s door. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she trusted him? Had she been waiting for something to ruin things between them, so sure the happily ever after she’d been dreaming of was never going to happen that she jumped on the first opportunity to speed things along?
She watched as Trey joined Ryan. Without a backward glance, they disappeared through the double doors at the end of the corridor. She sank down on a nearby bench. Her insides were hollow. The enormity of what she’d done seemed almost too big to absorb. It was easy to identify with Matty now. No apology was going to change what she’d done. She hadn’t trusted Trey when she should have. She’d been all too ready to believe the worst of him because of his past mistakes.
Surely there was a way they could salvage this. Except she remembered the look in Trey’s eyes a moment ago. That look that always made her feel like she was in his spotlight was gone.
“Baylee.” Danica signaled to her from the double doors. She dragged herself there. If she could hold it together until she was officially released, then she could go home, curl up and die.
Danica dropped Baylee at Trey’s house so she could pick up her car. The first thing Baylee had done when her belongings were returned to her was check her cell phone. There were several missed calls, but none were from Trey. She sat in her car, half hoping and half dreading Trey’s return so she could talk to him privately. After half an hour, when his Cayenne did not make an appearance, she drove home. Her father and Matty were in the kitchen putting a meal together. Baylee went to her room and dialed her voice-mail box. A couple of the messages were from her clients, asking if she was still available for pet sitting or cleaning. A couple were telemarketers. The last one, however, began, “This is James Falcon. I’m the operations officer at Central Bank of Orlando. Larry Sellers sent me your résumé along with a letter of recommendation.” Good old Larry. He’d felt horrible when the bank had failed and so many of his staff were thrown out of work. He’d insisted Baylee send him her résumé and said he’d send it along if he heard of any openings. She’d updated it after she started working for Trey and e-mailed it to Larry. “I have a position I’d like to speak to you about if you’re interested. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Baylee disconnected after she’d copied the number. Was this, finally, the answer to her prayers for a real job?
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Trey finally left the police station, it was almost dark. Hendersonville didn’t have an impound lot. The Cayenne was parked behind the station’s vehicle maintenance building at the far end of the parking lot. His keys and wallet had been returned to him, and he was more than ready to go home. He unlocked the driver’s door with the remote and opened it. He slid into the seat and reached for his cell phone, but it wasn’t there. He stared at the space in the console where he normally left the phone when he was driving. Could this day possibly get any worse?
He was almost a hundred percent certain the phone had been there when he and Baylee had been pulled over. But like one of those normal, everyday routines, he supposed it was possible that he hadn’t had the phone with him when they’d left the house that morning. On rare occasions in the past he had forgotten it and come home to discover it on his desk or the nightstand.
If the phone had been in the car, would the police have left it there? He had no idea.
He didn’t bother with the breathing routine, but instead let loose with a healthy dose of profanity and a temper tantrum that any two-year-old would have been proud of, punctuating it by using all of his strength to slam the driver’s-side door shut.
He retraced his steps to the police station.
By the time Trey pulled in to his driveway, he was so disgusted he didn’t know what to do. The officer on duty seemed unconcerned that his cell phone had gone missing while his vehicle was technically in police custody. Trey couldn’t file a report about a stolen phone unless he was sure it had been stolen.
He searched the house, looking in all the logical plac
es he might have left his phone, becoming more and more convinced that he’d had it with him that morning. The phone must have been in the car when. The car had been towed and the phone had disappeared.
He hadn’t bothered reconnecting a land line when he’d ordered Internet service because all he needed was a computer and a cell phone, which he already had. He’d thought about driving to his parents’ to make some calls, but he didn’t feel up to explaining the day’s events to them either. Briefly, he thought of calling Baylee and letting her help him out. She was, after all, his assistant. But he wasn’t ready to see her or talk to her, either. That surprised him a little, because he was crazy about her. He was pretty sure he was in love with her. But he was also majorly pissed at her. He couldn’t get over the way she’d turned on him, believed the worst about him without giving him a chance to say anything.
Although she had tried to apologize earlier, it hadn’t seemed the time or the place, and besides, he hadn’t been ready to hear it. If he’d had a phone, he’d probably have called her and told her not to come to work tomorrow. He needed another day or two to cool off and get his thoughts and feelings together before they had a conversation. Since he couldn’t call her, he’d simply arrange not to be here when she arrived. Tomorrow he’d stop by his parents and use their phone to call the insurance company and the cell phone company. Maybe he’d take his mom out to lunch. He’d stay away from the house until he was good and ready to come home. If Baylee had left for the day by then, so much the better.
Plan in place, he rummaged around in the refrigerator for a quick meal. He flipped through the channels on the television while he ate, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything he saw. He took a long, hot shower and downed a couple of ibuprofen. Tomorrow, he assured himself, everything would look brighter.
“Hi, Jenny.”
“Baylee, are you all right?…Seth, give me that. Oh, no you don’t. Seth! One. Two. Good boy. Thank you… Sorry.” From her end of the phone, Jenny sounded out of breath.
The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 Page 23
