Second Time's the Charm

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  * * *

  LILLIE WAS ON the phone before her door was fully shut behind the sheriff and Jon.

  “Bonnie? What’s going on?” She didn’t bother to identify herself.

  “I don’t know, Lil. All I got out of Greg was that it has something to do with the break-ins.”

  Greg. Hearing the sheriff referred to by his first name, the name by which Lillie normally addressed him and heard him addressed, took a small bit of the sting out of what had just transpired. But only a small bit. “Greg” had not been present in her office.

  Still, she knew him. Knew he was fair. Just.

  Jon would be okay.

  “Why Jon?”

  “I don’t know,” Bonnie said. “I asked the same thing and all I got was that Greg just had some questions to ask him. I wanted to wring his neck.”

  “If he’s not saying, it can’t be good.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions yet.” Bonnie’s tone softened. “Not until we know something for sure.”

  “Greg would have said if Jon wasn’t in trouble.”

  “I know it’s hard, Lil. I’m dying to know, too. Just hold on. You want me to come get Abe? I could take him home with me.”

  “Of course not!” Lillie’s emotions were on overdrive. “Abe’s comfortable with me. And...I told Jon I’d keep him. I’m going to take him home to his own house. To his own bed. Jon left his keys. And the little guy has been through too much today. Besides, that way he’ll be there when Jon gets back.”

  Because he was coming back.

  And then he had some explaining to do.

  A guy didn’t just get picked up for questioning for no reason.

  * * *

  “DO YOU OWN a set of suction cups used in removing sliding glass doors?”

  They were still in the sheriff’s car, driving through town. Jon figured everyone they passed was staring at him.

  And convicting him, too.

  “No, I do not,” he said automatically. The sheriff didn’t say another word the rest of the trip.

  * * *

  IT WAS LIKE living in the twilight zone. A horribleness she could never have imagined.

  Abraham had come through his procedure without any problems and was fine except that he’d probably sleep more than usual over the next couple of days. Lillie made him an early dinner, expecting him to conk out before his usual bedtime.

  She heated up some hot dogs. Because all Jon did was boil them so she could fix them exactly the way Abe was used to.

  She made a decent homemade macaroni and cheese, too, but it would be different than Jon’s. And Abraham might not like it.

  The day had been stressful enough for the boy. She didn’t need to add to that.

  It was the reason she was in Jon’s home when she’d rather be anyplace but.

  Her phone rang just as she was putting Abe in his crib at a quarter to seven.

  “I need access to Jon’s house, Lil,” Sheriff Richards said. She hadn’t known her heart could sink any further. “He said you have the keys.”

  “Is he in jail?” Her heart pounded.

  “Not yet. He’s only being held for questioning.”

  “Here in town?”

  “Yes. I’ve got an interrogation room at the station. He’s been there all afternoon.”

  “Has he said anything?”

  After hanging up with Bonnie, Lillie had called Caroline. And then Jon’s friend, Mark Heber, whose fiancée was an attorney.

  All she got out of anyone was that they were questioning Jon in conjunction with the break-ins. She was trying not to think about it. Not to feel anything at all.

  Abraham needed her calm. Cheerful.

  And she didn’t know for how long.

  “He’s answered my questions, Lil,” Sheriff Richards said. “He says he had nothing to do with the break-ins.”

  Could he be even better at lying and manipulating than Kirk was? She just couldn’t believe it. Didn’t believe it. “Then maybe it’s true.”

  “For your sake and the boy’s, I hope so, Lil. But I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good. He used suction cups when he replaced your sliding glass door, didn’t he?”

  Lillie’s hesitation scared her. “Yes, why?” Just because a guy had an easy-enough-to-come-by tool didn’t make him guilty of a crime. “He used to work in construction, Greg. He’s got all kinds of tools in his truck.”

  “He says he doesn’t own suction cups.”

  “Of course he does. They’re in the back of his truck. In a bucket, I think. That’s where he put them when he carried them out of my house that night.”

  Too late, she realized what Greg had just told her―Jon had denied owning the cups. He’d lied to the sheriff.

  Sweating at the back of her neck, beneath hair that suddenly felt heavy, Lillie shut up.

  Things weren’t always how they appeared. Bray, the second he’d come out, had looked like a perfectly normal newborn. Until he’d turned blue.

  Kirk had seemed like the perfect husband.

  “We’ve already searched his truck,” Greg said. “There weren’t any suction cups in it.”

  “But, surely, the fact that he owns suction cups doesn’t make him guilty of anything. It’s ludicrous, Greg. I know this guy. He’s adamant about paying for everything himself. He wouldn’t steal anything from anybody.”

  Greg’s foreboding silence made her stomach hurt.

  “We’ll need to question you, too, Lil.” The sheriff’s tone was soft. Apologetic.

  She felt sick. “You think I had something to do with this?”

  “Absolutely not.” His tone left no doubt of his sincerity. “But you spent a lot of time with him. You might inadvertently know something.”

  “I know he didn’t do it. And I can tell you for certain that I haven’t noticed anything at all unusual about him or his behavior. Jon’s a great guy.”

  She sounded like a lovesick fool. Blindly standing behind Jon before she heard the evidence.

  “There are mitigating factors. And sometimes there are things that don’t look suspicious until combined with other facts.”

  “You said you needed access to his duplex. What do you need?” Did Jon want her to let them in?

  If he didn’t, he looked guilty. And if he was guilty, she was not going to protect him.

  “I have a warrant to search the place.”

  “Now? I just put Abraham to bed.”

  “We’ll be quiet.”

  And if Abraham woke up, Lillie would take him to her place. Just until the sheriff was finished.

  It shouldn’t take long.

  Greg Richards and his deputy weren’t going to find anything.

  * * *

  “I HAVE FULLY cooperated with you, Sheriff,” Jon kept his tone neutral. Doing otherwise served no purpose.

  “You lied about owning a pair of suction cups. I just got off the phone with Lillie. She told me where you kept them. Funny, when we searched your truck they weren’t there.”

  “You can’t keep me based on a missing set of suction cups.” They obviously didn’t have much else on him—besides the fact that he was a convicted felon. Which was enough to make everybody believe he was guilty, but not enough to hold him on.

  One of the few good things that came out of his time spent in juvenile detention was a thorough understanding of how the law worked.

  Being a ward of the state had taught him not to rely on anyone else to help him. And Jon had had a lot of time to read during his years of incarceration. He knew his rights.

  “You admit to having knowledge of how to use suction cups,” the sheriff repeated again. He had to hand it to the guy, he seemed to be made of patience. Jon was unfamiliar with the approach
.

  But maybe that was the difference between being a punk kid the cops knew they could scare and an adult who could hold his own.

  Or the difference between being guilty and innocent. Those interrogating him in the past had had him dead to rights. They hadn’t needed to finesse one damn thing from him.

  “I replaced Lillie’s sliding glass door with French doors,” Jon said. Lillie had told her friends. They all knew. He added, “I have nothing to hide, Sheriff.” He’d already hidden the only thing they could have used to manipulate a case against him. If he’d produced suction cups they could have taken a “print” of the imprint his cups made, compared it to cup imprints left on the doors during the break-ins and manipulated the results to make it look as if he’d done it.

  “You also don’t have an alibi for a single one of the break-ins.”

  Not unless you counted a sleeping two-year-old who’d been hard of hearing. But, for that matter, he could have taken Abe with him, left him sleeping in his car seat while he committed the crimes.

  His heart lurched as he thought of his son, so he tried not to.

  Abe loved Lillie. He’d be fine as long as he was with her.

  “And you have very clear motive. I’ve heard from several sources that in addition to being a single parent and going to school full-time, you work any hours you can get to make ends meet.”

  “I work the extra hours, Sheriff, so I can make ends meet. I don’t have to steal.”

  “You have a history of breaking and entering. And stealing,” Richards said. “You were caught with the goods and confessed.”

  “I did my time,” Jon added. Some things could not be changed. And some could. “I learned my lesson, Sheriff. I am a law-abiding citizen.”

  Taking the seat across from him, Richards leaned in toward Jon. “I talked to the glass guy at the swap meet earlier today.”

  The words running through Jon’s mind were not ones he ever wanted to hear coming out of his son’s mouth.

  “He still had the glass doors you sold him. The ones from Lillie’s place. And they had suction-cup prints.”

  Richards was turning up the heat.

  “Did you contact Lillie about getting into my place?”

  “We’re heading over there now.”

  “She’s going to meet you there?”

  “She’s staying there. Your son is already down for the night. I’ve promised her that we’ll be careful not to wake him.” Jon couldn’t tell if the man was being sincere or trying to get a rise out of him.

  “I appreciate that,” Jon said, because he did. And because he knew that the man wouldn’t lie to Lillie.

  And even if he would, she wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt Abraham.

  The sheriff studied him for a moment. “I can tell you this, Swartz—I wish to God I could believe you. Lord knows it would be a hell of a lot easier.”

  It was a strange thing for a cop to say. Which meant he had an angle. “Why easier?” Jon asked, because he was curious to see what card the man would play next—and to best plan his own next move.

  Richards rapped his knuckles against the table a couple of times, stood and made for the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned. “Because I’m catching hell from everyone in this town from the mayor on down. My sister most of all. You’ve got them all fooled, Swartz, but then a con man like you, that’s what you excel at, isn’t it?”

  Because he was certain that this was just another in a long line of tricks used on him over the years, Jon did what was expected of him. He shrugged.

  “I’m surprised at Lillie’s support of you, though,” the sheriff said, watching him shrewdly as though the mention of her would break him down. If it did, Jon wasn’t going to let the other man see.

  “If I find that you’ve taken any money from her...”

  Lillie was like him, a working girl. She didn’t have money for him to take. Even if he was the taking kind.

  “The folks in town might not know about her money, but her ex-father-in-law called me as soon as she moved back here and told me about the settlement so I’d watch out for guys like you—guys who’d steal from innocent young women, old ladies and old store clerks, too.”

  The slap found its mark. The guy Jon and his foster brothers had ripped off had been close to eighty. Which was why they’d chosen him.

  But...Lillie had money?

  “Who was she married to?” Jon asked.

  “A man with a father with enough money to bury you if you hurt her,” the sheriff said. “And I hear—” Richards leaned in again “—that she’s quite close with the old man. Has breakfast with him every single Sunday morning.”

  The sheriff got what he wanted. Jon felt beaten. He remembered Lillie’s Sunday morning absences. She’d never told him where she went, or with whom.

  Lillie had money? Had lived in the same elite circles Kate came from?

  If he’d known that, he would never, ever have trusted her in the first place. “Mark my words, Swartz. I don’t just serve this town, I love these people. And I will do whatever it takes to protect them.” Jon no longer cared.

  “And you have no other suspects.” It was a statement, not a question. Because he had to keep up appearances and get out of there.

  “One. He had an alibi.”

  Jon gave one slow nod in acknowledgment. As Richards turned to leave, he said, “Sheriff?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did Lillie say how Abraham was doing? If the procedure went as planned?” Abe was all that mattered now. All that would ever matter again.

  “She didn’t tell me anything that I didn’t ask,” Richards’s answer was about what he’d expected. The man opened the door, stepped through it and ducked his head back in. “But Bonnie threatened me as only a sister can. I’m to tell you that he came through with flying colors. Woke up easily. Ate a good dinner and went to bed an hour early.”

  The sheriff had to have known that the news would relieve Jon. And he’d given it to him, anyway.

  Jon wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  LILLIE SPENT MUCH of the evening on the phone. She called Becca Parsons, Shelter Valley’s mayor, whose children she’d seen a time or two at the clinic. And who, along with her husband, Will, were Caro and John’s closest friends. Becca said she’d find out what she could and get back to her. Lillie answered calls from friends like Tory Sanders, Phyllis Sheffield and Ellen Billingsley, who’d called from Phoenix.

  Some wanted to know what was going on. Others, those who knew Jon, expressed their shock and supported her standing by him.

  All things considered, she was feeling pretty good when she opened the door to Sheriff Richards at a little past eight o’clock that evening.

  “We’ll be quick and quiet,” Bonnie’s brother told Lillie as he and a tall, thin, bearded man entered the living room. “You take the kitchen and front half of the place, I’ll get the bedrooms,” Greg Richards told his deputy.

  The officer, a man Lillie had never met, nodded and left, walking softly as he moved across the kitchen to the laundry closet.

  Lillie followed Greg down the hall. “This is Abe’s room,” Lillie said, pointing at the closed door. “That’s Jon’s.”

  “Let me do a quick search in here.” Pulling back on the door handle, Greg managed to get inside the room without making a sound. He was fairly quiet when it came to opening drawers, the closet and rifling through the toy shelf, too.

  His search of Abe’s room was over in less than five minutes. And the boy hadn’t moved, other than to take long, steady breaths. Natural, normal breaths.

  Abe was fine. And probably still feeling some residual from the anesthetic.

  Jon’s room was next.

  Lillie stood in the do
orway, taking in Jon’s things while trying not to intrude on his privacy. Not an easy feat when a man was going through Jon’s underwear drawer.

  The briefs and T-shirts and socks were all neatly folded and stacked, the drawers not quite full but well organized. The sight didn’t surprise her, but it brought tears to her eyes. Jon was a good man. Careful and honest and hardworking.

  “He doesn’t deserve this,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  “He lied during the investigation, Lil. A man doesn’t do that unless he has something to hide.”

  She didn’t have a response to that.

  “He also doesn’t have an alibi for a single one of the break-ins.”

  “Neither do I, or a lot of people who live alone.” They were all alone at night.

  Greg Richards had moved to Jon’s closet. He emerged carrying a blue duffel, which he set on the bed. Unzipping it, the sheriff grew very still, his hands suspended over the opening, and then he reached inside, pulling out item after carefully packed item.

  “He was planning to run,” the sheriff said softly, almost to himself. “There’s everything he could need here to care for himself and a child—including prepackaged food—for at least forty-eight hours.”

  Lillie searched for an explanation. Jon was supercareful. He kept a bag packed with baby essentials in the truck, too. But not with clothes or food for himself. Not with a thermometer or syrup of ipecac.

  Feeling around in the now-empty bag, the sheriff stopped. His hand was on something. Pulling out the lining, he found a pocket in the bottom left side with a cell phone inside. Pushing buttons, he got no response, and then, flipping the phone over, removed the cover of the battery enclosure.

  There were no phone workings inside the case at all. A carefully folded stack of large bills filled the empty metal container. Greg Richards held up the fake phone. “He’s got cash stashed away. If he’s so hard up that he has to work extra hours just to make ends meet, where’d he get this cash? And why hide it away?”

  She had no idea where the cash came from. “He’s a careful man. He plans for any emergency. It’s because of Abe,” she said, defending Jon even while the cash in the sheriff’s hand scared her to death. “He’s determined to be prepared for anything that could possibly crop up to prove, I think to himself, that he’s a good father. That his son is not getting gypped by having only one parent.”