Accused (Troubled Boys, Strong Men #1)

by Wendy Byrne

  ***

  “Sam Carter.” Trying to figure out the right plays for Friday’s game had almost made him ignore the phone. After that frustrating call to Detective Brock this morning, he didn’t need any additional distractions. It wasn’t until he recognized the number that he’d picked up.

  “Sam, I really hate to bother you, but somebody broke into my house.” Jillian’s voice sounded shaky as if she’d run a couple of miles.

  “Did you call the police?” Travis’ awkward warning the other day tunneled through his brain.

  “Yes, but they’re not here yet.” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

  He was already halfway to his truck, “I’m glad you did. I’m leaving right now and should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Really, I’m okay. It’s weird. He went inside, but didn’t come out with anything so I don’t think he took anything.”

  He started up the truck and pulled out of the lot. “I’m going to keep talking to you until the police get there.”

  “They’re in the driveway now.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Sam had a weird feeling about this whole thing. Maybe his time on the streets had made him more paranoid, but he didn’t think so. He couldn’t help thinking things could have been worse, especially when Travis’ words reverberated in his brain.

  What would somebody want in Jillian’s house? Possibilities tumbled through his mind the whole way there, each one more frightening than the one before. Could it be that Carlos kid? He’d been on Sam’s mind since the earlier phone call and the incident yesterday. By the time he got to Jillian’s, all sorts of crazy ideas were floating around in his brain.

  He got out of his truck and marched to the front door. Not bothering to knock, he walked inside.

  “And I’m telling you I don’t know where that came from.” Jillian seemed lost in her own world as the officers questioned her. “I called you. If I had to take a wild guess…hmm…I’d assume that the person who broke into my house dropped it since several officers searched the room right after…” Her voice dropped off as she spotted Sam.

  The officers finally noticed him. “Hey, Coach, what are you doing here?”

  Sometimes being in a small community had its perks. “I’m a friend of Ms. Beckett’s.”

  One of the officers cleared his throat. “Ms. Beckett said that somebody broke into her house and left these drugs in her son’s room.”

  “I did not say that, but since they weren’t there yesterday or the day before and they showed up after I saw somebody go into my house, it’s a wild guess on my part.” Frustration colored her words and she folded her arms across her chest.

  Sam moved next to her and placed his hand on the small of her back, even while the all-too-familiar skepticism warned him to back away. “Jillian, can you remember what kind of car he was in?”

  “An older black car, maybe a Saab,” she shrugged and shook her head. “To be honest, I’m not sure if the person was male or female. I assumed male. They had on a baseball hat and jeans, a blue sweatshirt, gym shoes. It was really hard to tell. He knocked on the door first but then went around back. Then I spotted him inside. I was watching from my studio in the loft of the barn. I suppose he didn’t realize I was home.”

  “So you’ve never seen him before?”

  “Like I said, I couldn’t really tell whether they were male or female,” she hesitated for a second. “After Archie showed up worried about paparazzi, I’d thought I’d had enough crazy in my life, but this is just plain weird. The guy doesn’t take anything but leaves a bag of marijuana.”

  What the fuck? “What’s this about Archie and paparazzi?”

  She shrugged. “He came here all bugged out about them camping outside his house. He said word had gotten out that it was Travis charged with murder and they were looking for a story. Needless to say I wasn’t very sympathetic to his problems.”

  “I’m sure that went over big.”

  “Oh yeah, he loves me for sure,” she gave him a crooked smile.

  The officers looked between the two of them as if waiting for an appropriate time to break into their conversation. “We could send the technicians out to do a fingerprint scan if you’d like.”

  “Fine,” Jillian answered sharply.

  “We’re going to take this evidence with us. It’s illegal in the State of California to possess marijuana unless it’s for medicinal purposes. Do you have a doctor’s prescription?”

  Her jaw locked tight. “I told you before, it’s not mine. Smoke it, burn it, take it in for evidence. I really don’t care.”

  “Sure, ma’am. The technician should be here in an hour or so.” They walked together toward the door before one of them turned to Sam. “Good luck on Friday night, Coach. Everybody has big hopes the team’s going to state this year.”

  “Thanks for the support.” Sam kept the shadows of doubt at bay only through Herculean effort. Geez, this was the second time in as many days he’d come here to find a drug issue at Jillian’s house. He didn’t want to go down that road again but felt himself being dragged in regardless.

  He sucked in a breath and focused. Surely she wouldn’t have called him if she’d known about the drugs. That was a no brainer.

  After the cops pulled away Sam tried to keep the smidgen of skepticism out of his voice. “That’s fishy about Archie showing up, don’t you think?”

  “No, the real interesting part was he was alone. Not a bimbo in sight. Now that’s a real first.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jillian felt guilty for dragging Sam into her situation. Obviously he was too polite to mention she’d interrupted him when she called. No doubt she’d sounded like some kind of crazy lunatic so he’d felt compelled to stop by. Since he was wearing his coach’s shirt, jogging pants, and a whistle around his neck, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he’d been working.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you.” Jillian hated looking weak and hated even more that being around Sam made her feel stronger. He respected her. He seemed interested in what she had to say. Goddamn it. This wasn’t about her.

  “I wasn’t doing much.”

  “I’m already feeling guilty. Don’t lie to cover it up. I’m sure you were doing your coaching thing and getting ready for the game Friday night.” She shooed him with her hand. “Everything’s under control here.”

  He glanced at his watch. “The guys aren’t going to be back until later this afternoon. When you called I was working on plays, nothing that can’t wait.”

  “This is silly. I’m going to call somebody and have a dead bolt installed on all the doors.” Knowing nothing had been taken only served to reinforce the idea she wasn’t in danger. Planting marijuana at her house had to be some kind of twisted joke. If they were out to get her or Travis, wouldn’t they plant something a little more potent?

  “I can do that for you in no time. Come on, we’ll pick up my tools and stop at the hardware store.”

  “I’m too indebted to you already.”

  “This is called being neighborly. I would do that for the cranky old lady who lives next door to me if she needed me to.” He grinned at her and ushered her towards his truck. Once she settled in, he turned in his seat. “Besides, you look like you could use some coffee and maybe a little more time to decompress.”

  She eked out a smile. “I hate to be so obvious, but those cops made me feel like a criminal. It brought me back to the night that my whole world shifted out of control.”

  “They were just doing their job. The skepticism you saw in them is four years of getting screwed over.”

  “I guess, but it’s hard to be on the receiving end. Do I look like somebody who would make that kind of stuff up? Do I look like a crazy person?”

  He bit off a laugh. “Certainly not as crazy as me. I mean, who in their right mind would try to turn a bunch of testosterone-driven teens i
nto a cohesive football team?” He shook his head. “The difference is the local police know me. You’re a newcomer to town.”

  “And I’m a female from Tinsel Town so they automatically assume I’m a nut job?”

  “Pretty much. But they’ll come around.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t plan on making friends here. I just want my son home and to have a chance to live in peace.”

  “Isolation isn’t always the answer.”

  “I’ve tried the other way, and it only came back to bite me in the ass. You have no idea how nasty it can be in Orange County.”

  “Believe it or not, I have a pretty good idea.”

  ***

  Okay, that hadn’t worked out so well. And to top it all off, Lexie figured she must have somehow dropped her last bag of weed in the Beckett home.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She’d planned to quit smoking dope for a while, but with her anxiety in overdrive this was not the time. Now she was so screwed. She didn’t really have a choice.

  Travis had begged her to quit since forever. She guessed quitting must have been easier for him because as hard as she tried she kept falling back into the habit while he stayed on the straight and narrow. At least she wasn’t doing the hard stuff anymore. Okay, most of the time she wasn’t doing the hard stuff.

  Her life had been one continuous joint for the last several years. Then again, with her crappy life, who’d blame her? Travis had a mom who loved him. Her mom kept hoping she’d disappear into the mist. Really, who could blame her for being a pothead?

  She’d tried other stuff as well, but always came back to pot. It kept her mellow, made her troubles disappear. The problem was, it stayed in the system so long she could never outsmart those random drug drops. They tripped her up every time.

  Then Dr. Stern would be all, ‘Do you have something you’d like to share, Lexie?’ And then she’d get pissed and the whole vicious cycle would start all over again.

  So leaving the last bit of pot at the Beckett house had been a crossroads. Now she’d have no choice but to go cold turkey and get her act together. Anyway, running for her life while high wasn’t a good combination.

  Luckily she’d found Travis’ stash of cash while in his room. It wasn’t much, about a hundred dollars, but it would do her for a while.

  She could sleep during the day in local parks to avoid scrutiny. Getting out of the area seemed to be the best idea, even if sooner or later she had to seek help.

  Of course her mother was out of the question. She barely tolerated Lexie’s presence to begin with, let alone when she was in trouble. Ditto for that jerk of a private detective she was cheating on her stepdad with. Maybe she could try to get in touch with Mrs. Beckett again. But would she ever believe her?

  Knowing who to trust had always been her problem. But when her life depended on that, made the choice even more risky.

  ***

  Jillian hesitated outside the door of Travis’ hospital room and drew in a breath. She couldn’t decide whether to tell him what had happened earlier. Having him worry about her with all his problems now didn’t seem to be the best idea.

  Still undecided, she eased open the door to find Dr. Stern standing at Travis’ bedside. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” She whispered since she didn’t want to wake Travis.

  Dr. Stern walked to her and swept her into a hug which she thought was kind of weird since he wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy. In fact, he always talked about respecting personal boundaries.

  “Jillian, it’s good to see you. I was checking on Travis. I’m afraid he’s still suffering from the lingering effects of the concussion.”

  Was it her imagination or did he smell of alcohol? Then again, it was nearly four in the afternoon. She guessed he had the right to imbibe over lunch if he chose to. But given his odd behavior, she couldn’t help wondering if he’d had more than one.

  “I’d hoped he’d be awake by now.” She broke away from the awkward embrace and moved closer to be reassured by Travis’ steady breathing. “Sleeping is a good thing, right?”

  “It allows his body to heal.” He walked toward the door. “It was good seeing you again, Jillian.” He stopped with his hand on the handle. “You look tired. How’s your sleep been?”

  “Okay,” she lied, uncertain if she wanted to prolong his visit by telling him about the weird reaction she’d had to the pills he gave her.

  He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t. “Don’t forget to use those pills I gave to you if you have any trouble.”

  “Sure.” Even though she responded, he didn’t bother waiting around to hear what she’d say.

  “Mom, is that you?”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “Yes.”

  “Is Lexie here?”

  “No, honey, but Dr. Stern was. Why would you think Lexie was here?” She hadn’t heard Travis even mention the girl’s name in a couple of days.

  “No reason. It must have been a dream.” He shook his head. “I can definitely see better, but this sleeping thing sucks. As soon as I wake up, I want to go back to sleep.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get better soon.”

  Before they could say any more, Cole Matthews walked inside. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Based on the serious look on his face, Jillian figured it wasn’t a drop-by-to-see-how-Travis-is-doing visit. Suddenly her stomach felt heavy as fear moved in.

  “Boy, you look like crap.” He came close to the bedside and stared down at Travis.

  “At least he can kind of open his eyes now.” Jillian felt twin prongs of worry. Part of her wanted him to get on with what he had to say: the other dreaded hearing what he had to say.

  “I’m feeling better, but this sleeping stuff is crazy. I’m out of it for about twenty- three hours a day.”

  “And I thought teenagers loved to sleep. I guess not you.” It was obvious Cole was stalling, which only made her more anxious.

  The wistful look on Travis’ face nearly broke her heart. “In my own bed, listening to some tunes, I’m down with that. But lying here, hooked up to this stupid IV thing, with hospital food, I think I’ll pass.” He struggled to get to a sitting position, “Mom, can you help me bring the bed up. Maybe it’s all this lying down that’s making me so sleepy.”

  “Sure.” She fiddled with the remote, finally getting him to a comfortable spot.

  Cole drew in a breath, “I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is that Felicia Jones thinks your diagnosis of conduct disorder is incorrect, and she is willing to testify in court. Since conduct disorder can sometimes lead to anti-social personality disorder in an adult, it might impact the judge’s decision about whether to try him as an adult. Which brings me to the second point. The Judge would like to see Travis in court as soon as possible.”

  Jillian grasped the bedrail. “That sounds like a bad thing.” Had he already made up his mind about trying Travis as an adult? Would he throw him into the adult prison? The idea made her want to cry, scream and puke simultaneously.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure where he’s going with this. It could be he only wants to warn Travis about his behavior.”

  “But you don’t think that’s it?” Travis barely said the words, but she saw the fear in the way his eyes started to pool with tears. “Hey, wait. Somebody already told me this. I just can’t remember who.”

  “I only heard about it this morning.”

  “Man, this hospital is doing weird things to my head.” Travis shook his head. “I don’t know what really happened and what I dreamed. But I could swear—”

  “Like when you thought Lexie was here?”

  Travis avoided looking at her for the first time since she’d arrived. “Yeah, I’m telling you I’m losing it.”

  “I’ll try to postpone the hearing as long as I can, considering your condition.” Cole looked as if he were getting ready to leave. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to talk to the judge in p
rivate and see where he’s headed with this.”

  “That would be great.” Jillian felt a slight shift in the pressure squeezing her chest.

  “It will also give us time to track down some of the leads if we can. I’m still hopeful we can sort this through before we get to trial.”

  Jillian could only wish he was right.

  ***

  Travis wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to tell his mom about Lexie. He had asked her to find Lexie and she’d showed up at his hospital room and he’d done nothing about it. But what could he do?

  He should have asked her where she was staying. Then again, maybe she’d told him and he didn’t remember. Based on the last couple of days of operating with a brain that felt like sludge three-quarters of the time, anything was possible. Hell, maybe he’d dreamt the whole thing. For all he knew Lexie could have been a figment of his imagination.

  But she’d felt real. She’d looked real. She’d talked like Lexie. Even through his broken and packed nose, he could smell that lemony body splash she liked to wear. It had to be her.

  Even through the little slit of eyesight he had, she’d looked scared as shit, and must have been desperate, if she was willing to drag his sorry ass all over town. What happened that night? Lexie must know at least some of it, or she wouldn’t be running. If she was scared of him as she should be if he’d actually killed her stepfather, she wouldn’t have come to get him.

  But why was she running, and who the hell was chasing her? Once he got his head clear, he was going to have to get Dr. Stern to hypnotize him. It might be the only way he could ever get to the truth. But did he really want to know what had happened that Friday night?

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Even though she’d done next to nothing, Jillian still felt exhausted by the time she arrived home. Nerves from earlier had managed to deplete every bit of energy she had left in her body. Knowing she’d be alone in the house with nothing but her thoughts until morning didn’t make her feel any better.