Either way, the end result was that the chair in which she sat in the interrogation room squeaked every time she swayed back and forth. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, but at least it wasn’t amplified. Her senses seemed to have mostly returned to normal. While that was an improvement, the dissociative nature of her mental state last night had at least allowed her to believe that the events were a hyper-realistic dream.
Sadly, she now knew better.
Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and from the tears she hadn’t been able to stop herself from shedding. Her nose felt stuffy and her head hurt, and the palms of her hands stung something fierce beneath the gauze the EMTs had wrapped them in. Her left knee was several shades of black and blue, as it, even more than her palms, had taken the brunt of her fall. It had swollen to twice its normal size, too, making walking on it difficult.
She had a red, tender spot on her side from being hit with a taser.
The other injuries were more painful, but this is the one that disturbed her the most. She didn’t really remember hitting the cop in the nose with the palm of her hand, but apparently she had. She guessed her old self-defense training had come back to her when one of them grabbed her.
Her heart skipped a beat thinking of them with their hands on her, holding her down, and one of them shooting her with his taser to incapacitate her further. Granted, the situations were nothing alike – this time, the police had been doing their jobs. She could also acknowledge that she’d been hysterical – for multiple reasons, only one of which was having just been struck by a car.
Emotional and physical traumas coupled with the hallucinations were already enough to bring her to the brink. When the cops began manhandling her, trying to control her, PTSD had taken over and pushed her off the ledge.
“Would you like me to ask someone to bring you a blanket?”
Startled by the question, Jillian glanced over at her attorney. Ainsley Tidwell. A raven-haired, dark-eyed beauty who radiated control, she watched Jillian with patent concern. It was only then that Jillian realized her teeth were chattering, too.
“It’s nnerves,” she admitted in a low tone, not wanting the cops to overhear.
“I made them turn the microphone off,” Ainsley told her. “We can speak freely.”
Jillian’s disbelief emerged as a snort. “You’ll have to forgive me if I d-don’t trust them.”
Ainsley smiled her cool smile. “I’d be disappointed in you if you did.”
Jillian had never been so relieved to see another person as when Ainsley had shown up early this morning, looking like an avenging dark angel in a pinstriped suit. She hadn’t been with it enough in the overnight hours to insist upon calling her attorney, but Ainsley informed her that Katie contacted her.
Thank God for Katie. Jillian was going to have to buy her a small island or something in order to express adequate thanks.
She’d initially been undecided about retaining this attorney, especially after finding out that she worked with – basically for – Jesse’s brother, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. However, after watching Ainsley remain calm and unflappable in the face of the cajoling, threats and various histrionics from the detectives, Jillian didn’t really care who she worked for. She was just glad to have the woman on her side.
Disgusted by the chattering of her teeth, Jillian clenched her jaw shut. “What happens now?”
“My guess is that they’ll be back in here to question you again before allowing you to return to your cell. Same story as last time: you don’t answer anything I tell you not to. Afterward, I’ll start the process of getting you out of here.”
“Quickly,” Jillian said in a tone bordering on desperation. Then she glanced down at the jumpsuit she wore. “Orange is not my color.”
Ainsley smiled, and then grew serious. “I’ll do my best. They’re working pretty hard to connect you to Detective Gannon’s death, and some of the circumstantial evidence is working against us. I don’t need to tell you how seriously law enforcement officers take the demise of one of their own. Particularly under questionable circumstances.”
“No. You don’t.” Jillian’s teeth began to chatter again. “I wonder what’s taking them so long?”
“It’s part of their technique,” Ainsley said. “They wear you down, physically and mentally, hoping you’ll eventually break and tell them what they want to hear.”
“They can wait until hell freezes over,” Jillian said. “I don’t have a dealer. I can’t explain what happened last night, but it did not involve me taking drugs.”
The door opened and Jillian looked up, expecting to see one of the detectives who’d questioned her earlier.
Jesse walked through the door.
Blood rushed to Jillian’s head and then seemed to drain away just as quickly, leaving her dizzy. It took several moments for her to realize that her attorney was speaking.
“… This is a surprise.”
Jesse looked grimmer than she’d ever seen him. “Ms. Tidwell. I need a word with your client.”
“I gathered as much.” She raised an arm, gesturing languidly toward the chair on the opposite side of the table.
His lips thinned. “Alone.”
She laughed, a musical sound of incredulity. “You’re joking.”
When he simply continued to stand there, jaw clenched, Ainsley glanced between them. She arched a brow. “You two know each other?”
“We met through Katie’s brother,” Jillian explained after a moment. Jesse still hadn’t looked her in the eye. “I mentioned he was an FBI agent investigating that man’s murder. The one at the laundromat. That’s how this whole thing started.”
“Yes, okay,” Ainsley said. “I suppose I should have seen this coming.” She turned to smile sweetly at Jesse. “A prior personal acquaintance doesn’t supersede my duty to protect my client’s interests. If you have any questions, you can ask them in my presence. Especially as I assume this is being recorded?”
His jaw clenched even harder before he finally nodded. “Yes.”
Jesse lowered himself into the chair. Jillian noticed that he moved stiffly, his posture one of someone who was holding onto his control with both hands.
He finally looked at Jillian. “Are you okay?”
Jesse’s voice was so low, so gruff as to be almost unrecognizable. Despite the fact that she still felt betrayed by his actions, she thought the concern in his expression was genuine.
But that wasn’t enough to eradicate the bitterness that colored her tone. “Just dandy.”
She thought his teeth would turn to powder if he ground them any harder. “What happened last night?”
“You mean you haven’t read the police report in all its gory detail? Public intoxication, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer. It’s a veritable bonanza of charges.”
“Jillian,” Ainsley cautioned, recognizing the reckless tone even as Jesse said: “I know what you’ve been charged with. I want to know what happened.”
They stared at each other across the table for several painful, heavy heartbeats, the air between them seeming to develop a tactile quality. Finally, she glanced at Ainsley, who was watching them both with patent interest.
“Tell him exactly what you told me,” Ainsley suggested.
Jillian sighed, but then turned her attention back to Jesse. “From what point?”
An additional question hung unspoken in the air between them. Should I mention our little tete-a-tete yesterday morning?
It was partly a threat on her part, because she recalled that he’d said his boss would hand him his ass if he knew he’d been by to talk to her like he had – not in what one could call a professional manner.
But Jesse had left her house and then gone out to arrange for a warrant based on something he’d seen while he was there. So maybe he’d already come clean with his boss about being there, even if he hadn’t divulged the personal aspect of their conversation. Or maybe he’d already laid bare every sordid detail
.
Although if he had, Jillian didn’t think he would be here, questioning her. That created a conflict of interest, didn’t it? Much like Brian’s? Brian had told them yesterday morning that if any further evidence turned up, his boss would almost certainly pull him from the case as he couldn’t be expected to be impartial. Jillian gathered that at this point, Brian had been pulled.
As much as she was indeed hurt and upset by Jesse’s actions, she still felt that having him on her side was better than getting petty revenge for what she saw as him using her.
If he was, in fact, on her side.
Jillian studied his face, tried to set her resentment aside. He appeared to be truly concerned about her situation, but could she trust him?
Jesse met her gaze straight on. “From whatever point you think is relevant,” he told her.
He was giving her permission to reveal what he’d done, she realized. What he’d confessed to her that morning, about crossing the line. To lay it all out here, in the police station, with who knew how many cops as witnesses. Not to mention her lawyer. It might even help her legal case. It would almost certainly hurt Jesse.
Jillian opened her mouth. Closed it. And remembered the look on his face when he’d told her he would have done anything to keep her from walking out of the Y without him.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “After the cops and Brian left the house, I got ready for the wedding.” She glanced up, saw something flicker in his eyes. Maybe gratitude.
Maybe something… deeper.
Shoving that aside for now, Jillian walked him through the events of the evening, up through leaving the reception. “I started feeling… odd on the way home.”
“Odd in what way?”
“Hot. Shaky. Thirsty. And paranoid, I guess is the best way to describe it. A little like I was having a panic attack.”
“Have you experienced panic attacks before?”
She nodded. “After Mike’s attack. It got pretty bad. That’s one reason I left Savannah, went back home after the trial. I thought getting away would help.”
“Did it?”
“Not as much as I would have liked. I started seeing a psychologist.”
“Did you take any type of prescribed medication to alleviate the attacks?”
“This information will be in your medical records,” Ainsley said, possibly reminding her that whatever she said could – and would be verified.
“I realize that. No,” she answered Jesse. “I was offered Xanax as well as a prescription sleep aid, but I didn’t want to rely on chemicals. I took the PM version of over the counter pain relievers if it got too bad – the same one I took the night the house may have been broken into – but mostly I found other ways to deal with it.”
“Like what?”
“Like running. Hiking on the trails near my home. That’s how I found my way back to photography – I saw too many beautiful things in the mountains not to want to capture them on film.”
“And you didn’t use anything else, any other substance? Marijuana? It’s known to have a calming effect.”
“Not if you’re terrified of having an altercation with the police, it’s not.”
For the first time since he’d entered the room, he smiled a little. “Touché. No medical history of epilepsy, schizophrenia, severe fever?”
She blinked. “No.”
“There are a number of health conditions that can cause hallucinations, erratic behavior such as you allegedly displayed last night,” Ainsley explained to Jillian, all the while eyeing Jesse. “I believe that’s why he’s asking.”
Jesse nodded. “Your original urinalysis came back negative except for small traces of alcohol, well below the legal limit,” he said. “We won’t know until we have the results of the other tests back if there was anything else in your system. I’m eliminating other possibilities.”
“Oh.” She digested that. “You’re not assuming I was simply high or stoned or whatever the appropriate term is here?”
“Ass. U. Me. Assumption generally doesn’t work out well for either party.” He paused. “Did you voluntarily ingest any illegal drug or mind-altering substance last night?”
“While photographing the wedding event of the season? Do I look like I’m insane? No,” she said, stating it loudly and clearly. “I did not voluntarily ingest any illegal or mind-altering substances last night. However,” she said and had both Ainsley and Jesse straightening. “I did eat some mushroom caps. Hors d’oeuvres,” she explained. “I don’t know much about it, but can’t some varieties of mushrooms cause hallucinations?”
“They can,” Jesse agreed. “Although I doubt they would be serving them at the wedding event of the season.” He smiled, just a little. “However, we’ll check with the venue, see if any other guests experienced similar symptoms. Tell me again about the champagne.”
“What about it?”
“The timing, the circumstances.”
“Ah, I drank it maybe fifteen minutes before I left. I was packing up and one of the servers stopped by, said he’d noticed how busy I’d been and that I must be thirsty or something like that.”
“What did he look like?”
“Why?”
“Just humor me.”
“Blond,” she finally said. “Attractive. Late thirties, maybe. I didn’t get his name.”
“Did he take the glass away when you were finished?”
“I don’t think so. No,” she said after considering. “The bride’s mother came up and thanked me and I sat the glass aside.”
“Where?”
“On the little table near the coat room. Yes, because that’s when the other man came up and asked if I’d seen the mints because he’d been drinking and didn’t want his wife to know.”
“Description?”
“Of the man or of the mints?”
“Both,” he said, surprising her.
“Ah, maybe late forties, early fifties for the man. Short dark hair, graying at the temples. Very blue eyes. A dimple,” she said pointing to her chin “right here. As to the mints, they were basically your typical peppermints, but they were wrapped in red plastic.”
“You said he offered you one. Did you throw the wrapper away?”
“I… don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe I stuck it in my purse? I honestly can’t remember.”
“Did you have anything else to eat or drink in the half hour or so before you left the wedding?”
“No,” she shook her head. “No. I’m sure of it. Why?”
“I think I can answer that question,” Ainsley said, studying Jesse with interest before switching her gaze to Jillian. “It sounds to me like Agent Wellington is considering the possibility that you were drugged.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JESSE strode out the front door of the police station, welcoming the cold air that slapped his face with all the enthusiasm of a jilted mistress. Given the fact that his blood was all but boiling beneath his skin, he considered it a shame that he lived in a climate that didn’t lend itself to snow and sub-arctic temperatures.
He headed toward his Jeep.
“Jesse! Jesse, wait up.”
He recognized the voice behind him. Of course he did, considering he’d dated its owner steadily for the better part of a year. Which meant that he knew that walking faster, pretending he hadn’t heard her or any other avoidance technique would get him absolutely nowhere.
When Ainsley wanted to say something, she was relentless in her pursuit of the opportunity to say it. She would hunt Jesse down and make him listen until his ears bled if she had to. God knew she’d done it before.
He halted, and simply waited for her to catch up.
The wind had flushed her cheeks with a rosy hue that only accentuated her dark loveliness. She looked cool, capable and a little intimidating – and he knew it to be truth in advertising. As far as defense attorneys went, Jillian couldn’t have done much better, with the exception of Jack himself.
&nbs
p; However, Jesse couldn’t help but wish she’d retained someone else. Not because he and Ainsley had parted on bad terms – they hadn’t. They remained friendly still.
But Ainsley knew him pretty damn well, and was far too perceptive for her own good.
“Hey,” she said, a trifle breathless against the bite of the wind. She wrapped her scarf around her neck. “How can you not be cold without a coat? Never mind.” She shook back her dark hair. “You’re like a human inferno, especially when you’re pissed. And I have to say I haven’t seen you this pissed off since…” she frowned. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this pissed. Dissension in the ranks?”
He just stared at her.
“Yes, yes. I know you’re not going to give me, the other team, any potential ammunition.” She tilted her head. “Except that I get the feeling that this time, oddly enough, you and I might not be on opposite sides.”
He started walking. “If you have something to say, say it. I have things I have to do.”
“Yes, like try to prove my client may have been drugged involuntarily. I appreciate that, by the way.”
“I’m not doing it for you.”
“No, you’re doing it for her.”
Jesse stopped. Glared down at her. “I’m doing it because it’s my job to investigate what happened. Not to form a hypothesis based on a personal agenda, but to, you know, look for actual physical evidence based in fact.”
“Something I’ve always admired about you,” Ainsley said as she hustled to catch up after he started walking again. “Your integrity. And if your integrity happens to turn up evidence that my client may have been drugged without her knowledge or consent –”
“Assuming she’s telling the truth about what happened.”
“Alright, assuming she is telling the truth, and you find evidence which supports her claim, I trust that you will let me know and/or try to convince the cops to drop the charges. Because clearly, if her intoxication wasn’t her choice, she can’t be held liable for any actions resulting from said intoxication.”
“Watch your step,” Jesse said, pointing out a tree root which had lifted a piece of the sidewalk.
The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set Page 18
