The Baby Bump

by Tara Wylde

  He sighs and looks at the paper in front of him. “You’ve been hauled in because we have evidence of tax evasion, money laundering, and insider trading.” It’s the fifth or sixth time he’s repeated this list of crimes since he joined me in this room. They don’t make any more sense to me now than they did the first time he rattled them off.

  “I haven’t done any of those things. I’ve always been very up front about telling the government how much money I make and where it comes from.”

  “So you say. But we have information that says otherwise. One of the officials at the IRS reported some serious inconsistencies the past few years that you filed tax returns. This led to an investigation, which in turn led to an inspection of your bank accounts, business dealings, and a search of your computer. Tonight, we obtained a warrant to inspect your computer. Our computer expert has just started combing through your files, but he’s already found data that supports the original tip.”

  Anxiety burns my stomach lining. I’ve always kept diligent records and never done anything illegal with my money. If anything, I’m more honest than most people when it comes to filing tax returns and claiming deductions.

  “Mr. Holden. I have to tell you that the evidence we’ve already collected doesn’t look good. If there’s anything else on your computer, it’s better for you to tell me now, before our guy finds it, then to wait until they do. If I have advance warning I can work with you, come up with ways to minimize the punishment you ultimately get. But you’ve got to work with me.”

  My mind keeps going back to all the trouble I’ve been having with my computer the past few days, trouble that started right about the same time I started seeing Erin. And today, when I told her my computer had stopped working completely, she wasn’t too concerned. In fact, that was when she distracted me, first with her body and then with the news that she had plans for the evening.

  Is it possible that she’s the common link? Could she be some sort of secret corporate spy who was sent to destroy my life? Granted, it sounds ridiculous, but then again, people do say that truth is stranger than fiction.

  Still, why would she do such a thing? Unless I’ve pushed her out of some business dealing, she’d have nothing to gain. In the movies, when something like this happens, it’s always in the form of a long con that involves the naïve hero and the dangerous woman getting married.

  No, I’ll need a great deal more proof before I even begin to consider the possibility of Erin being behind my arrest.

  But just because I believe she’s innocent of framing me, it doesn’t mean I believe that my current predicament isn’t someone connected to her. The timing is just way too convenient.

  The detective taps the tabletop, dragging my attention back to him. “Mr. Holden. What is it going to be?”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong, so I have nothing to offer. And before this conversation goes any further, I’d like to see my lawyer.”

  The detective doesn’t look happy, but he nods. “I’ll go and find a phone that you can use, but I should tell you, based on the evidence we’ve collected so far, I don’t know how much help they’ll be.”

  My hand clench into fists, but I manage to keep my voice calm. “Just get the damn phone.”

  Even if my lawyer can’t find an immediate way to get me out of this mess, he can at least be my eyes and ears on the outside. Hopefully, he and Erin will be able to come up with a reason why this is happening to me.

  Chapter 96

  Erin

  “Thank you.” I punch the disconnect button on my phone and place it on Garret’s kitchen table. Sammy and Harlan look expectantly at me. They’ve already had their breakfast, so I can only assume that they’re waiting for me to reveal Garret’s whereabouts.

  I shoot them an apologetic look. “Sorry guys, I can’t give you what you want, but believe me, if I could, I would bring him back here right this moment.” Feeling helpless, I chew on my lower lip. “Since I’m not related to Garret, they won’t give me any information about how he’s doing or even what he’s been charged with. I don’t know if that’s because I’m not related to him, or because they’re worried about jeopardizing their case.” I resist the urge to kick the wall. “This is so frustrating.”

  I rub my breastbone, trying to ease the ache that settled around my stomach last night as the two cops slapped cuffs on Garret’s wrists. Every time I think about what happened, what he must have gone through when they got him to the county jail, my anxiety levels ratchet up.

  If I could, I’d crawl into Garret’s nice warm bed, pull the covers up over my head, and cry myself to sleep. And once I woke back up, I’d do the whole thing all over again.

  Unfortunately, that’s not an option. As long as Garret is sitting in the county jail, with only his lawyer in his corner, pretending the world doesn’t exist isn’t an option.

  Someone knocks on Garret’s front door. “Erin, are you in there?”

  Tracy. I should have guessed she’d stop by. She tried last night, but I told her I was fine.

  I hurry to open the door. Tracy doesn’t wait for an invitation before racing in. She throws her arms around me. “Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

  I hug her back. Until this very second, I haven’t realized how much I need human contact. For the first time since Garret’s arrest, I burst into tears.

  “Oh Erin,” Tracy cries. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Somehow she manages to half-walk, half-drag me to living room and gets me to lie on the couch.

  Harlan flops down on the floor beside me. Sammy jumps up on my thighs, and from there, jumps up and onto the back of the couch.

  Tracy drags a chair over to the space by my head. She strokes my hair and whispers nonsense until I’m finally all cried out. I hiccup instead.

  Tracy smiles at me. “Feeling better?”

  “No, not exactly,” I struggle to sit up as I keep hiccupping. “But I do think I needed that.”

  “Any word on Garret?”

  I shake my head. “No not really.” I take the tissue she hands me and blow my nose. “No one at the jail will tell me what’s going on, but I did find out that his lawyer is there and working on getting him ready for his arraignment.”

  Tracy starts to say something and then thinks better of it.

  I blow out a sigh. “What is it?”

  She shoots me an apprehensive glance. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

  “I promise.”

  Tracy links her fingers together. “I was just thinking, you really don’t know Garret very well, and I know you want to think the best of him, but isn’t it possible that maybe he’s into some shady stuff and deserved to be arrested?”

  “My gut tells me no. I genuinely think he’s one of the good guys.”

  I expect Tracy to rebut with a list of reasons why I shouldn’t trust Garret, but she doesn’t. Instead, all she says is, “Okay.”

  I gape at her. “Okay! Really?”

  She nods. “You trust him and the few times I met with him, my spidey senses didn’t set off alarm bells, so until something changes, I’m going to trust him too.”

  “Do you know what sucks even more than Garret being arrested?” I ask.

  “Seems hard to imagine anything could.”

  “The fact that it’s all my fault.”

  Tracy’s eyes bulge out of her head and her jaw drops. “You? How can this possibly be your fault?”

  “I don’t know.” I pick a piece of lint off my sweatshirt. “I feel like it is.”

  Tracy’s eyes narrow.

  “Now what?” I ask.

  “I’m not really sure. Something stirred in the back my mind. Something that might be important, though I don’t know why, but I can’t quite remember what it is.” She shakes her head as if hoping that will knock the thought loose and then shrugs. “Oh well, sooner or later it’ll come to me.”

  Before I can think of a response, there’s another knock at the door. Tracy glances at me, an unspoken question burn
ing in her eyes.

  I shake my head. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

  Tracy hurries out of the room, Sammie close at her heels, and gets the door.

  A few seconds later she reappears, followed closely by Hannah, Garret’s housekeeper, and her son Eli.

  ”Ms. Burkley,” Hannah cries out. “We just heard the rumors. Is it true that Garret was arrested?”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “I’m not sure why and I don’t know when he’ll be home.”

  “It’s my fault.” Eli looks and sounds like a seven-year-old kid who has just been caught stealing candy at the grocery store.

  “Your fault?” Tracy smiles. “Garret must be quite the guy. In less than five minutes, two different people have decided that his current problems are their fault. Pretty impressive, given that we live in a society that actively practices the act of blaming someone else whenever things go wrong.”

  “What happened, Eli?” I gently press. I don’t have to be a shrink to see that the kid is very upset about something, that keeping it in is starting to take a toll.

  “A few days ago—” He scrunches up his face and moves backwards through his memory. “I think it was Tuesday. Some guy stopped me. He asked if I knew Garret and if I knew anything about computers or how cell phones work.”

  My heart starts pounding. When the police came to this apartment while Garret and I were at The Sex Project, about the only thing they took with them was Garret’s desktop computer. “What did you tell him, Eli?”

  The teen shrugs his boney shoulders. “Of course, I told him yeah. Do you know how many computers I’ve taken apart and put back together?”

  “Or how many times you’ve gotten in trouble for hacking into other people’s computer systems,” Hannah says in a low undertone.

  I ignore both Hannah’s comment and Tracy’s answering snigger. “Then what happened?”

  “The guy gave me a device that can really mess up a person’s computer. It’s wicked awesome.”

  “Eli,” Hannah warns.

  Eli rolls his eyes but keeps talking. “Whoever has the other part of the device can see what files are on the hacked computer, but also allows the person to manipulate the hacked files. It’s an amazing bit of technology. I didn’t know that the police used them.”

  “The police,” I whisper.

  “Yeah.” Eli nods. “He flashed me his badge and asked me to install the device on the computer in Garret’s office. He wanted me to put another one on Garret’s cell phone, but I couldn’t get my hands on that.”

  “You bugged Garret’s computer.” My voice rises with each word.

  “I didn’t want to.” Eli crosses his arms over his chest. “I like Garret, he’s nice to me. I told the guy no, but he said that the law says I had to help him no matter what. That if I didn’t cooperate, he’d have me arrested.”

  “Erin,” Tracy says, but I ignore her, keeping my focus on Eli.

  “Did you catch the officer’s name?” Maybe if I can speak to this officer, I could start unraveling the mess.

  Eli shakes his head. “If he told me his name, I don’t remember it.”

  Great, another dead end.

  “Erin.” Tracy plucks at my sleeve. “I just remembered what I was trying to remember before this pair showed up.”

  “What?” I snap at her.

  “When I ran into Dillion last weekend. He told me he’s now working for the IRS as a forensic accountant. Which means he carries a badge.”

  Chapter 97

  Erin

  I’ve sat on some pretty bad chairs over the years, especially while attending college, but the hard, brilliant blue plastic chair one of the offices set me up with is by far the worse. And I’ve been stuck here for nearly three hours already. My ass went numb after the first hour.

  “Hi, I’m Officer Jacobson.” An officer, a pretty woman with dark skin and beautiful eyes, sits in the seat beside me. “Here.” She smiles and hands me a cup of coffee.

  I accept it, welcoming the heat that seeps through the cheap paper cup and warms my fingers. One of the other things I’ve learned about jail these past few hours. Not only are the chairs ridiculously uncomfortable, but the building feels like an ice locker. Considering how spartan and uncomfortable the visitor area is, I don’t even want to think about what Garret’s night in a cell must have been like.

  About five minutes after Eli, Tracy, Hannah, and I arrived at the jail and passed on Eli’s story, I learned that the real-world version of the American justice system is quite a bit different from Hollywood’s interpretation. Two very polite officers led Hannah and Eli down a short hallway, presumably to take their statements, while I was sent to this chair to apparently wait and see what happens.

  Tracy stayed for the first hour, but I sent her away with instructions to take Harlan for a walk and a promise that I’d call her if anything exiting happened.

  I slide a sideways glance at the officer sitting beside me. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you’re not here just to keep me company.”

  A smile brightens Officer Jacobson’s features. “It’s only part of the reason,” she admits. “But the main reason is that after talking to that boy who came in, looking at your boyfriend’s computer, and a few other things, we believe that there’s enough evidence to justify arresting Dillion Parker.”

  “Oh, thank God.” I blow out my breath and sag against the back of the miserable chair.

  “A word to the wise,” Officer Jacobson asks.

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Just because we’ve arrested him, it doesn’t mean Mr. Holden is off the hook.” Officer Jacobson fiddles with the gold Claddagh ring she’s wearing on her right hand. “It’s going to take a while to sift through the electronic evidence and figure out who is and isn’t telling the truth.”

  “So Garret can’t come home.” My heart sinks again. I really want, no need, him to be free and with me, where he belongs.

  “The officers who were sent to Dillion Parker’s house radioed in and reported that they had him locked in the back of the squad car. A decision has been made that we’ll release your Mr. Holden after Dillion arrives, though we’re going to tell him not to leave town.”

  I nod. “I guess that sounds fair.”

  The officer smiles wryly. “Glad you think so, because it’s the only option we’re giving Mr. Holden. The main reason I’m sitting here is because this is a case that involves your current boyfriend and your ex-boyfriend.”

  “Dillion and I went on one date. That’s it,” I mutter. “That’s not enough to qualify him as an ex anything.”

  Officer Jacobson chuckles, the sound surprisingly deep for such a petite woman. “Anyway, I’m here to ensure that you don’t do anything stupid, such as attack him, forcing us to file assault charges against you.”

  I open my mouth, prepared to protest. Officer Jacobson holds up a single finger as her pretty eyes narrow in warning. “And, if the idea of assault charges isn’t enough to scare you into behaving, consider that if you attack him, it could jeopardize our case if we find enough information to bring charges against him. And since I know you want him rotting in prison, I’m sure you won’t take any chances.”

  As much as I hate being treated like a child, I have to admit, she has a point. I’m already mad enough to spit nails. God only knows how I’ll react once I lay eyes on Dillion. The lying, cheating, stalking jackass.

  A commotion at one of the entrances that’s just out of sight draws our attention.

  A few seconds later, a few officers stomp into view, forming a tight knot around a disheveled Dillion.

  The paper coffee cup crunches as my grip tightens.

  Officer Jacobson tugs the cup from my hands and sets it on the window ledge beside her. “Remember,” she says softly. “We’ve got this under control, so don’t do anything stupid.”

  It takes more willpower than I expected, but somehow, I manage to remain seated, settling for glaring daggers at Dillion.
/>   His eyes widen, white showing all around the iris. “Erin?” His steps falter. “What are you doing here?”

  I grip the armrests of the horrible blue chair, literally holding myself down and into the seat.

  “You’re doing great,” Officer Jacobson says, her tone warm and encouraging, just the way a voice of conscience should be. “Just keep it up.”

  The officers nudge Dillion toward a desk and settle him into another plastic chair that looks every bit as miserable as the one I’m sitting on. One of the officers bends down and removes a handcuff from one of Dillion’s wrists and snaps it to the arm of the chair. If Dillion makes a run for it, he’ll have to bring the chair with him, which will slow him down considerably.

  I hope he tries. If nothing else, watching him get tackled, chair and all, by a group of armed police officers would go a long way toward improving my day. Though not nearly as far as getting to go home with Garret.

  A middle-aged officer with more belly than hair pulls a keyboard across the desk. “Full name,” he barks at Dillion.

  Dillion tugs at the handcuff and stares at the desk sergeant. “I don’t know why I’m here. I’ve done nothing wrong. This is clearly a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Which will be a lot easier to clear up once you provide your full name,” the officer responds without missing a beat.

  Beside me, Officer Jacobson chuckles. “Watching bookings is one of my favorite parts of the job. You wouldn’t believe how many people don’t know why they’re here, swear we have the wrong person, or suddenly become stupid when asked the most basic questions, such as how old they are or where they live.”

  It takes a full quarter of an hour for the cops to book Dillion. Right after his mug shots are taken, he’s whisked out of sight.

  Five minutes later, Garret, looking more tired and rumpled than I’ve ever seen him, is ushered out another door.

  I leap out of the hideous chair and onto my feet. “Garret!”

  My instincts scream at me to close the short distance separating us and throw myself into his arms, but I hesitate. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been arrested, he wouldn’t be a hot topic of conversation amongst all the people who attended the party at The Sex Project last night, and he wouldn’t be in the middle of a financial mess that he may never extract himself from.