by Wendy Byrne
“I’ll try to get in touch with Cole today.”
“Wonderful.” She gave him a tight smile. “Hopefully, this nightmare will be over soon.”
He wanted to echo her sentiments, but nodded instead. Somehow he knew that this whole thing was going to get a whole lot worse before it got any better.
***
Travis figured this was the worst part about visits. He went one way and his mom went the other. Normally, he felt depressed by now, but today he felt like there might be a chance.
“Your mom and dad divorced?” The kid behind him poked him lightly with his elbow to get his attention.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“They looked like my mom and dad do when they come together. They didn’t talk much.”
“Oh, he’s not my dad. He’s my football coach.”
“He hot on your mom or something?”
“Naw, they just met.” Travis thought about it for a second or two while he considered the possibility. Unlike other kids’ moms, his didn’t go crazy and stay out all night partying or bring random men back to the house. Thank God. That would have really pissed him off.
She did seem lonely. But his mom and Coach Sam, making out or in bed together? Yuk, thinking about it made him want to hurl.
But he did like the idea that his mother wasn’t trying to help him alone. God knows his father wouldn’t step up to the plate. Just once he’d like to feel as if his father believed in him. Like Coach Sam did.
Chapter Seven
Going to the police station hadn’t been an easy decision for Jillian. For the last few days she’d let Reggie handle any communication. But now she felt a need to talk to the detective personally.
She walked inside the busy station and asked for Detective Brock. A few minutes later, the wizened detective greeted her with a handshake. The smell of stale cigarette smoke wafted around him.
“Mrs. Beckett.” He glanced around as if looking for Reggie. “What can I do for you today?”
“I’d like to talk to you for a few moments.”
“Sure, no problem.” He eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t say anything further as he led her towards his desk.
Despite his disheveled appearance, his desk was tidy, not at all what she’d expected. A cup of coffee sat in one corner, along with a phone, while a neat stack of papers sat in the center.
She sat down on the scarred wooden chair at the side of his desk and tried to remain calm and focused. This was her son’s life at stake. She needed to measure each and every word before she spoke. While she didn’t know much about Detective Brock, she did know sometimes police had a tendency to twist even the most innocent of comments into something more.
“I went to visit Travis today and Sam was there—”
“Sam?” He looked through the paperwork. “Who’s Sam? I don’t have that name in the file.”
“Sam Carter. He’s Travis’ football coach.”
“I heard he showed up at court. The judge is quite a fan.” He folded his hands on his desk and looked at her. “If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Travis’ father been?”
Jillian sucked in a breath and ignored the obscenities at the tip of her tongue. “He’s been busy.”
“I see.” He held up his hand. “Again, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want, but what kind of relationship does Travis have with his father?”
“Poor. Archie never forgave him for getting in trouble a while back.” The words spilled out before she had a chance to put them in check. She didn’t want to give the police any more information to build up their case.
She could see it now: Kid with a strained relationship with his father, pours out his rage on unlucky victim.
“Do you know where Travis was Memorial Day weekend?”
“He and I went to New York.” She didn’t have much recall of the months after the divorce, but that particular weekend she remembered well. At the time she was thinking about moving away to separate Travis from the group of friends that had gotten him into trouble. When Archie resisted her plan through the court, she’d taken the impulsive getaway in an attempt to reconnect with her wayward son.
He picked up his pen and scribbled something on a notepad. “Can this be verified with the airlines?”
She nodded. Thank God they hadn’t taken the movie studio jet like Archie had offered. At the time, not only had rage simmered at the idea of accepting any favors from him, but she also knew it was only a peace-offering since his lawyer had blocked the potential move to New York. “Is this about the unsolved murder?”
“You heard?”
“Reggie told me.” Jillian bit her lip as she contemplated how much to reveal. Cautionary tales from her father made her think one thing, while the mother in her thought another. Finally, the mother won out. “Travis was given that gun by another boy, allegedly as a present. Now it seems clear that it was a setup.”
Brock picked up his pen again. “Do you have a name?”
“Jeremy. I don’t know his last name. I’m not even sure if Travis does.”
“I don’t suppose you have an address.”
She shook her head and thought about showing him the picture. Somehow she rationalized she wasn’t withholding evidence and kept it tucked inside her purse for the time being.
“I’ll get with Mr. Saunders and arrange for a time to interview Travis.”
“That’s also what I came to talk to you about. I’m not sure he’ll still be on the case. I’m thinking about switching to another lawyer.”
“That surprises me.” He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.
She had the impression a bomb could go off at the next desk, and he’d still remain cool, calm and collected. Not a bad skill for a detective to have. In fact, she kind of liked him, except for the fact he was trying to lock away her son.
“How so?”
While she could tell he was thinking of saying a whole lot, instead he shrugged. “I guess because he’s a Hollywood lawyer. You’re part of that.”
Even though she saw regret in the last part of his statement, she stood, suddenly anxious to get away. “Make no mistake, I’m not part of that scene. And neither is my son.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Sometimes I make assumptions I shouldn’t. It’s a job hazard.” He smiled. “For the record, I think Travis is a good kid. I don’t know why he did what he did—”
“If he did what he did.”
He nodded. “Based on my brief knowledge of him it does seem out of character, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t do it. People snap all the time and do all sorts of crazy things.”
Anxious to leave, she stood. “Just one more question. I believe you told me Travis’ drug test came up clean.”
He glanced in the file before he nodded. “Yes it did. No evidence of any drugs. Why do you ask?”
“It’s not important.” She offered her hand. “Thank you for your time.”
***
Travis went back to his room feeling somewhat better. Coach was going to help his mother and Coach’s friend was going to be his new lawyer. Actually, he felt better than he had since this whole clusterfuck started.
Some of the guys were playing football in the yard. So far he’d avoided interaction of any kind, thinking laying low was a much better option. But now, filled with optimism, he joined them. Besides, the guys here talked big and seemed to know a whole lot of people. With a little luck maybe one of them might know Jeremy and he could unravel what the hell happened Friday night.
“You need a wide receiver?”
A tough looking guy, he thought they called Slash—how cliché was that—gave him the once-over. “Who’s asking?”
“Travis.” He held out his fist for a bump, but it wasn’t reciprocated. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. His first instinct to stick to his cell might have been the best option.
“You the murderer I heard about?”
�
�Yeah, but—” Still not accustomed to the descriptor, Travis stuttered. Most kids were here for theft, armed robbery, stuff like that. There were a few accused of murder, but not too many.
“You don’t look like no murderer.”
“Here’s the thing—”
Slash ignored him. “Lookee here, guys. We have a real live murderer who wants to play ball with us. What do you say? Should we let him?” He glanced around at the others. “I tell you what, you tell us how it went down, and we’ll let you leave or play. Your choice.”
***
It was crazy, but Jillian did it anyway. She circled the block a couple of times before she finally pulled into a space across from Lexie’s house. More than likely, even if Victoria Gill were home, she wouldn’t speak to her. And, frankly, she wouldn’t blame her. No doubt the woman thought Travis was responsible for Max Gill’s murder. But she had to give it a try.
She sucked in a deep breath and willed her nerves at bay. Just as she was about to get out, the door to the Gill home opened. She scrunched down in her seat so far she could barely see over the door frame.
She felt like a kid doing something illegal as she peeked toward the front entrance. Eventually she saw a man’s arm holding onto the door knob. He seemed to be locked in conversation with somebody on the other side. Scooting up a little higher, she spotted a blonde woman she could only assume was Victoria, dressed in what appeared to be a nightgown, although she was only guessing based on the color and flow of the fabric.
A love tryst so soon after her husband’s death? Jillian couldn’t suppress the smile. That kind of thing could only help Travis: reasonable doubt and all that entailed. What she wouldn’t give to have her binoculars and a long range camera right now.
The man in question gave the woman—she could only hope it was Victoria Gill—a soul-searing kiss, followed by a hug. His hands rested on her ass and snuggled her into his crotch. Jillian snapped off some pictures with her phone, even though from this distance distinguishing the parties involved was nearly impossible. Still, there was no way to misinterpret what had happened.
The man pulled his baseball cap lower, walked towards the back of the circular driveway to where his car was parked. If she captured anything more than a build she’d be lucky, but she took a couple more pictures anyway.
She scooted further down in the seat as he pulled out of the driveway. She slid up in time to catch what looked like a black Lexus SUV and a blurry vision of the license plates.
Undecided what to do next, she sat in her car contemplating her options. If she went up to the door too soon, Victoria would worry that Jillian had seen her visitor. If she waited too long, she might have changed out of her nightclothes and any thought of connecting Victoria to a lover’s tryst would be lost.
In the end, the decision was made for her when less than ten minutes later, Victoria stepped out of her front door and into a gleaming silver Jaguar. Jillian had no recourse but to follow and keep a safe distance. Victoria’s first stop was at the dry cleaners, the next stop a small boutique where she stayed inside for over twenty minutes, the next a salon.
Jillian drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Should she go inside? From what she could tell, it looked fairly empty. But would that make it even more obvious if she showed up? Chances were Victoria would recognize Jillian and then who knew what would happen.
Before she could make up her mind, her phone rang. “Hello.”
“It’s Sam. I’m not sure if you’re available, but my friend Cole has some free time. If you’d like, I could pick you up.”
Weighing the options was a no-brainer. “I’m not home right now. But I could meet you there. What’s the address?”
She keyed the information into her navigation system. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel after all.
***
Sam got there early and pulled into a parking spot. The building was situated in a marginal area of the city as Cole did a lot of pro bono cases. Like Sam, Cole had grown up on the streets until he got sent to Mama Iris’ house. He’d been placed there a couple of years prior to Sam and they’d had a few go-rounds when he’d first arrived. Sharing a room hadn’t set too well with either of them. Then again, Sam was pumped and ready for a fight at the drop of the hat back then.
In a bare bones, one-person office, Cole sat at the computer typing and looked up when Sam walked in. He stood and yanked Sam into a hug. “Long time, no see, Buddy.”
“You’re the one who hasn’t been to Mama’s lately.” A ritual of sorts, Sundays were open house days at Mama’s. She’d cook a big meal for whoever showed up. There were plenty who knew they could always count on her for a hot meal on Sunday. The old timers like Sam and Cole kept a watchful eye on the young ones and gave them advice when asked and even when not asked.
“Have a seat and tell me about the client. He’s a sixteen year old boy accused of murder, right?” Cole grabbed a fresh pad of paper and jotted down the date.
“Yeah, but it’s his mother you’re going to meet.”
“What’s her story?”
“Don’t know much.” Sam had avoided going through the usual search engines trying to find more info. He justified his reticence by preoccupation in the upcoming football season, but knew it had a whole lot more to do with a fear of what he might find out. “I know she was married to a Hollywood type before a recent divorce. I know her ex is a scumbag for not showing up at court.”
“You have a tendency to get sidelined by a pretty face. I bet she’s a looker.”
Sam didn’t try to hide his smile. “Hey that’s you, not me.”
“I have two words for you: Ariel Sanders. The name ring a bell?”
Chapter Eight
“So are you going to tell us or what?” Even though he was a couple inches shorter than Travis, Slash knew how to intimidate.
Travis glanced around to see if there were any guards nearby, but Slash’s other guys had shored up behind him. Trapped, he figured his options were to get screwed or to get royally screwed. If he made like he was a bad ass, they might actually back down. In his few days here, he’d learned it was survival of the fittest—or at least the guy who had enough BS to pull it off.
Travis channeled his inner actor and put on his best I-don’t-give-a-shit-look. “Why would I tell you what went down? Are you a narc or something?”
Slash grabbed Travis by the front of his jumpsuit and yanked. “I aint no snitch. You got that? I just wanna know how it went down.” His cynical laugh chilled Travis. “Hey, maybe I’m writing a movie script for your dad, and I’m going for that realism. Then again, maybe that’s your angle. Is that what you want, boy, to get famous for being a murderer?”
Another boy piped up. “Rich boys like him never go down. Like a shot of lily white cream, they always rise to the top.”
“My dad has nothing to do with this.” The mere mention of his father sent a shard of pain through Travis. People made assumptions, good or bad, based on his Hollywood lineage.
He wanted to shout ‘I didn’t do it’ until they let him be. But this was not the place for honesty. They didn’t want that. They wanted brutality. Only then would they be satisfied.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. I heard you can’t remember.” They guffawed. “At least we straight up say we didn’t do it. That’s better than straddling the fence like a wimp.” Slash pushed Travis shoulder. “Is that what you are, boy, a wimp?”
Travis bit the inside of his cheeks. “Yeah, I did him. He was messing with my girlfriend.” The lie slid out of his mouth more easily than he would have expected.
At least he hoped it was a lie.
***
Sam tried to push back the memories or Ariel, but couldn’t quite manage it. “That was different.”
“How so? Just because you were younger? Oh man, you have that dreamy look on your face when you talk about this Jillian Beckett just like you did back then.” Cole eased back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. �
��I kept telling you Ariel saw dollar signs around you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Who wants to hear that your girlfriend is hanging around you because you have the potential to sign a multi-million dollar contract?” He shook his head. “I was so pissed at you back then.”
“At least I told you the truth. Mama knew the score about her, but figured you’d see through Ariel eventually so she kept quiet.”
“Okay, I’ll admit Ariel was a mistake.” Thank God he hadn’t gotten married to her as she’d been pushing him to do, even playing the pregnancy card a time or two in an attempt to reel him in.
“Mistake? The girl lied and told you she was pregnant, not once but twice.” Cole’s exasperation came out in a puff of air. “If it wasn’t for me and my good skills at sniffing out a stone cold liar, you’d be miserable.”
“And after we nearly came to blows at Mama’s I apologized.” Sam knew he was no longer the naïve college senior with dollar signs and an anxious agent waiting in the wings. He held up his hand. “But this is different. I make what, seventy grand a year. If she was after money, she would have stuck with her ex. Somehow I think Hollywood types make a heck of a lot more.”
“Maybe this time it’s something more that’s luring you in, like the promise of a family.” He shrugged. “Hey, I don’t blame you. As much as we love Mama we can’t help but think about that ‘normal’ existence we never had growing up.”
“But what would she get out of it?”
“Well…that’s kind of where my argument falls apart, especially since I haven’t met her.” He sat up in his chair, reached across the desk to grasp Sam’s shoulder. “I love you man. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Sam chuckled. “I can handle it. Besides, we haven’t even touched, let alone done anything else.”
“I figure it’s only a matter of time.”
