by Ellen Parker
“You’re free to tell whoever you wish. Our duty was to tell you, as his widow.”
Beth’s stomach contracted as if she’d been punched by the word. She exhaled, returning her interior to balance. It would take some time and quiet to acclimate to the status. Widow. Out of limbo.
* * *
Jackson stomped fresh snow off his feet in the small space between the tavern’s double entry. For a long moment, he clung to the muted sounds of Crystal Springs residents enjoying a Saturday night out. Then with the next breath, he pulled open the door and stepped into the chaos of conversation wrapped up in the smells of pizza and beer.
As he scanned the tables, the bartender gave him a nod and beckoned him over.
“How’s Beth?” the bartender tossed the question across the bar. “You’re in the right place for a late supper.”
“She’s better. Exhausted. Do you have any of your individual pizzas tonight?”
“Plain cheese or three meat?”
“I’ll be a carnivore.”
“On the side?”
“Seasonal from the tap.” Jackson pointed at a table not yet cleared and wiped. “Over there.”
“Got it.” The barkeep filled a glass with amber liquid and set it in front of him.
Jackson surveyed the crowd for familiar faces but didn’t find any. Perhaps that was good. The entire day had been as stressful as a trial.
Staying conscious of every word and bit of body language in front of the Cosgrove family had been difficult enough, but today, the Morse clan had arrived in force. It was plain from their tones they were there only at the command of Gertrude, not out of affection for Beth. The tension in the waiting room had filled the space with invisible currents, twice bringing Jackson to his feet, ready to escort one of the belligerents down the hall to cool down. But Gertrude had snapped a word or two, usually to her son, and kept the situation in hand.
The drive home had stressed Jackson in a different way, with variable snow for a full hour. Light conversation, or much of any social interaction, wasn’t on his current wish list. He wanted a little food before heading up the hill. If Linc was up, he’d give him a five-minute summary of the day. Otherwise, he’d have a direct path to bed.
“Thought I saw your car.” Sylvia stood at his elbow, rubbing her arms.
He inspected her face, looking for signs of either the hyper or depressed woman he’d encountered in recent months. Tonight her eyes were clear, glistening blue. Her cheeks wore a blush, either from the cold or improved health. “Sit down. Thirsty?”
She nodded, took the chair to his left, and adjusted the cuffs of her dark red sweater. “We need to talk.”
“You should wear a coat. In case you didn’t notice, it’s snowing.”
“I just dashed across the street.”
“Don’t blame me for your next cold.”
“I won’t. Actually, you should be pleased. I’m moving. Back to West Allis. My parents and I are packing up the apartment. We’ll drive back tomorrow.”
“How many times will it take, Sylvia?” He did a mental tally and arrived at four suicide attempts and fresh starts. And those were just the ones he’d heard of.
“Monday I start a new program. This one includes strict drug monitoring. It will be like going to supervised work with a counseling session thrown in.” She met his gaze with a steady look. “I came over to apologize.”
Really? He raised his eyebrows. The last time he’d heard an apology from her was years ago, when they’d had a big mix-up moving into the college dorms. “I’m listening.”
“I would never have harmed your puppy. My plan was to keep him until the weekend and then be the hero and ‘find’ him. He slipped out of his collar the second night.”
Jackson nodded. Her confession fit with one of several scenarios he’d imagined.
“And the other… it got out of hand. I only meant it as fun at first, to eavesdrop on you. But…” She moved her gaze to her hands in her lap.
Eavesdrop. In her world, where electronics ruled, that could only mean one thing. “Are you confessing to hacking my email?”
She nodded.
“Is that all you did?” He mentally reviewed his bank information and credit card statement from the last time he’d viewed them. It had been over a week, he realized. The situation with Beth had confused his personal life and destroyed his routines.
“I freelanced.” She thanked the server for her root beer and unwrapped her straw. “The initial agreement involved hacking for payment. I didn’t realize how my employer would use it. I never imagined him doing more than giving some negative marks to her reputation. The work was super simple. Beth didn’t even use complicated passwords.”
“You—” He lowered his slice of pizza without taking a bite. “You hacked Beth for a third party?”
“He wasn’t long on details. Claimed it was some sort of family squabble and I know they can get nasty. He never said a word indicating violence. I got him into her accounts. Only one at first. A couple weeks later, he asked for more, including the correspondence connected with the Big Cat websites. Then… well, I got curious and turned voyeur. Interesting stuff. Once I got the basics figured out.”
He pulled out his phone. “You need to report this. To the police. Now.”
“It’s not that serious. I cut off his access to all the accounts yesterday.”
“Your hacking and meddling puts you into the middle of criminal cases. Felonies.” Jackson waited for the dispatcher to pick up the sheriff department’s non-emergency number.
“I… I… didn’t do anything.”
“You enabled. Accessory.” He closed his hand around her wrist as she attempted to leave the table. “It’s way beyond any apology.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I’d like to wait here.” Beth pointed at a plain wood bench in the wide courthouse corridor. Sinking down before either of her parents could voice an objection, she drew her arm, laden with coat and scarf, close.
Her mother perched beside her. “It’s not required for you to attend.”
Beth moistened her lips and sorted through words. Missing the hearing wasn’t an option in her mind. Ten days after her initial police interview, and forty-eight hours after the lead detective gave her an update, the justice system was set to formally charge and set bond for the accused, Kevin Morse.
She leaned her head gently against the wall and closed her eyes behind her dark glasses. Her headache, a constant companion these days, slowed her thoughts. “We’re early. And courts have a reputation for starting late. I’ll be ready to be in the same room as Kevin in a few minutes.”
“In that case…” Her father reached for his wife’s hand. “We’ll go ahead and save room for you and Jackson beside us. I’ll give you a heads-up when they’re ready.”
Jackson’s coming? Maybe the day would have one positive note. “Thanks, Dad.”
Her head ached beyond the reach of her morning medicine. She closed her eyes and tried to blot out the courthouse sounds of voices, an ancient elevator, and closing doors. Maybe the next time she opened her eyes, the world would be in single instead of triple vision. Her mind needed a few quiet minutes. Drawing a deep breath and following it with a cleansing exhale, she imagined Dancer, Greta, and Lottie in watchful poses on the lawn.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Jackson’s ordinary words in a casual baritone settled her heart into place. She opened her eyes and smiled when her brain translated the sight into only one of him. “We haven’t started yet. My parents are saving us seats.”
He brushed a kiss on her forehead before claiming a spot beside her on the worn wood bench. “Anita and Carla send their best.”
“I miss the dogs.” She brought her free hand up to her mouth. Her neck and face warmed, reminding her that her embarrassment reflex had survived the recent trauma. “That sounded dreadful. Did my good manners leak out of the skull fracture?”
“My money would be on the drugs.
Carla started to explain the actions and interactions of things to me over the phone late yesterday. I got lost at the third turn. If it means anything, Bailiff sends greetings. I’d lick your hand for him, but I think something would be lost in translation.”
She shivered at the suggestion of his tongue touching her. Hand. Cheek. All of her exposed skin warmed at the possibility. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s time. Your dad’s waving us in.”
Beth stood, hesitated before moving forward. Practical, low-heeled boots protected her ten still-healing toes, but she remained uncertain of her balance until after the first step. Adjusting the coat and scarf over one arm, she drew confidence from Jackson’s gentle grip on her other hand. The doctors had disapproved of her determination to attend today’s hearing. After her hospital discharge three days ago, they’d advised her to rest in a darkened room, avoid all electronic screens, and not make any important decisions.
This is too important to miss. The legal system didn’t insist she be present, but she understood her mind would be uneasy unless she witnessed her accused abductor facing a judge. She gave silent thanks to Gertrude. Her grandmother-in-law had insisted she and her parents stay in the Templeton Motel. At least with the morning drive cut to under twenty minutes, she hadn’t been exhausted before the proceedings started.
A moment later, she eased down beside her father in the second row behind the prosecutor’s table. She slid in close to allow Jackson plenty of room on her left. Made it.
Her mother leaned across and patted her arm. “We’re with you.”
Nodding, she cut it short as a sharp pain darted between the back of her head and her eyes. She closed her eyes and held her breath, letting the internal flicker of static electricity die out. “I know.”
“Defense team looks grim,” Jackson whispered in her ear.
The clerk stood, cleared his throat, and requested they all stand as he announced the judge. A moment later, the petite female judge gestured everyone to sit.
We’re like dogs at obedience trials. Beth pressed her lips tight to stifle a building giggle. Such frivolous thoughts didn’t belong in a courtroom. She closed her eyes, silently counted to three before opening them again, and sighed relief at the sight of only one left hand on her lap.
“The defendant will stand. Are you represented by counsel?” The judge placed a generous pause between the sentences.
“I am, Your Honor.”
In a clear voice, the clerk read the charges. The list started with unlawful imprisonment, continued through several degrees of assault, included motor vehicle theft, and ended with animal abuse.
Beth focused on Kevin. This was the first time she’d been able to study him since his visit to Big Cat Farm back in August. He stood beside a pair of lawyers, dressed as part of his own defense in a dark suit and fresh shave. A stranger would not see him as the enemy. She reminded herself not to underestimate the man who’d injured her and likely made her a widow.
Forcing her gaze to move, she looked at the row across the aisle where Kevin’s mother held her husband’s hand. Gertrude sat steel-spine straight, her hands neatly folded over the purse on her lap. Beth blinked back tears of gratitude for the Morse family matriarch.
“How do you plead?”
Kevin replied after a moment of hesitation. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
Beth detected a note of defiance in his voice. How could he? According to the police, they’d found several solid pieces of evidence at the shed and more in her van. In fact, the van was so rich in evidence, it was still impounded by the local sheriff.
“On the matter of bail?” The judge faced the prosecutor.
“The state asks for remand.”
“Your Honor,” the tallest defense lawyer spoke as the previous comment still resonated in the room, “we ask the defendant be released without bond. He is a respected member of the community.”
“The defendant is a resident of an adjoining state,” the prosecutor interjected. “Arrested in and extradited by that state. The defendant has the means and poses a flight risk. At the time of his arrest, he had airline tickets to a foreign country in his possession.”
Beth squeezed Jackson’s fingers tightly at the new-to-her information. How close had Kevin come to escaping justice? Or at the very least, getting a long delay.
The judge appeared to look between the two groups of lawyers. Beth silently counted the seconds and released her breath when the gavel came down.
“Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars. Cash only. Defendant is ordered to surrender his passport.”
“Can he make that?” Jackson murmured into her ear as whispered conversations sprouted from all corners of the room.
She swallowed uncertainty of Kevin’s private resources. Clinging to the recent verbal promises of Gertrude and Kevin’s parents, she whispered, “No.”
* * *
Jackson hesitated to believe Beth’s lips. According to his research, Kevin Morse and his family had the resources to meet bail within twenty-four hours. But one glance at her face told him she needed to hang on to any threads of hope and stability tossed her direction.
“Court is adjourned for a fifteen-minute recess.” The gavel thumped as punctuation.
Jackson stood with the others as the judge exited the chambers.
A few moments later, in the busy courtroom hall, he touched Mrs. Cosgrove’s elbow. “We need a quiet place to talk.”
Beth’s mother looked at him with hazel eyes matching her daughter’s. “Agreed. Are you familiar with the pancake house at the freeway junction?” She paused long enough for him to nod. “Join us. We reserved their small event room.”
“Excellent.” He eased away with a genuine smile. The Cosgrove family appeared to understand his status at the edge of their circle better than he did.
He approached Beth and waited while she finished an exchange with the prosecutor. Standing beside her father, Beth looked like an attractive young woman hiding behind sunglasses. A short, fashionable haircut and a white beret hid the majority of the remaining bandages. Beautiful. He glanced at her necklace, the teardrop pendant glistening amber against a pale purple sweater.
“Your turn, Jackson.” She turned to him as the prosecutor moved away.
“Will you ride with me? Your mother invited me to the restaurant.” He steadied his lips into a gentle curve. It felt like forever since the two of them had been alone while she was coherent. And he had things to say. Important things. Personal questions to pose. Difficult statements to make. They would never all fit into a twenty-minute drive, but he looked forward to a beginning.
“I’d like that. Okay with you, Dad?”
“No problem.” Mr. Cosgrove looked straight at Jackson. “Take care of her.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
A few minutes later, Beth’s arm securely looped through his own, Jackson guided her down the courthouse steps and toward the parking lot.
“I’ve missed you.” Jackson unlocked his Jeep.
“We talked on the phone last night.”
“It’s not the same thing. I enjoy watching your face when we talk. Touching your hand.” Ignoring his body’s desire to touch more than her hand, he studied a collection of freckles at the edge of her dark glasses. “You were also sharing a motel room with your parents.”
“Practical. It also saved a few pennies of Gertrude’s money.” She stood in the protected space between door and seat, in no apparent hurry. “She’s been so generous to us. Do you realize she paid for my parents’ hotel stay while I was in the hospital? Dad wasn’t aware of it until he went to settle the bill and was told it was taken care of. She’s thoughtful and full of surprises.”
“She’s a grand lady.” He thought back to that night, or rather early morning, when he first met her. His fingers flexed at the thought of driving the back roads with the windows down during the first snow of the season.
His emotions concerning the rest of the Morse clan remained fluid. This morning, when Kevin had run his gaze down the row, past him to Beth and her parents, a mass of antagonism had churned in Jackson’s stomach. However, in the hallway after the proceedings, the look on Mrs. Morse’s face elicited pity. She deserved a bit of compassion after having the loss of one son confirmed, quickly followed by the arrest of the other. If the justice system worked, they’d both be lost to her.
Jackson skimmed his gloved hand down Beth’s cheek. “Let’s save the Morse family for a future conversation.”
“Works for me.” She turned a few degrees and slipped into the passenger seat, out of easy touch.
Maybe next time. He hurried around the front, took his seat, and started the engine.
“Beth”—he backed out of the parking space and drove toward the exit—“I want to know your feelings, not merely the facts on a few things.”
She rearranged her hands on her lap. “I’ll try. Please be aware I’m sorting out a few things still.”
“Did you love Bruce deeply? Will this confirmation of his death and all the paperwork start your grieving over from the beginning?”
“You ask difficult questions. It must be the lawyer in you.”
“And you evade them.”
She hesitated, appearing to look at her hands. “The first six months after his disappearance were terrible. Search parties were formed and disbanded. His mother called me to cry. It’s a miracle I attended enough classes and turned in any coherent papers. I don’t really remember graduation. We do have pictures, enough to prove my body attended.”
“Diplomas and photos are good.” He settled behind a logging truck on the two-lane road.
“Uncle Joe and his offer to move to Crystal Springs helped more than anything. Setting up the kennel and finding a few accounting clients forced me to think about the future. I’m not sure what would have happened without my family stepping in. And now?” She curled her lower lip under her front teeth. “It’s like picking off a scab a day too soon. It weeps, makes a mess, but is more of an inconvenience than actual pain. Does any of that make sense?”
