by Alice Ward
Here it comes. This is the part he thought I shouldn’t be here for.
“That depends on your definition of involved,” Ethan replied, his voice easy. I was thankful we’d already had this awkward conversation and I wouldn’t be learning anything new. But I didn’t relish the idea of going over it again with an audience.
“All definitions of the word,” Dickson answered.
“Well, we had three female trainers, I had a housekeeper—”
“Personally involved, not professionally,” Dickson interrupted impatiently.
“I was friends with most of the cheerleaders. Friends only, nothing physical. I casually dated about a dozen women while I lived there.”
A blend of awe and disgust crossed the detective’s face. “At the same time?”
“No. And not all of the relationships were sexual.”
Dickson pointed at the legal pad. “Names,” he grunted.
“Did any of these women get a little too attached to you?” he asked. “Any bad breakups? Did any of the women threaten to hurt you or themselves after you ended things?”
“Why do you assume I was always the one to end things?” Ethan countered.
It was Dickson’s turn to blush. “My apologies. But I still need you to answer the question.”
“No, Detective. None of the women I was involved with acted crazy when we ended because there was never anything to end in the first place. I wasn’t ready to settle down. I spent time with women who shared that opinion. There was never any drama.”
“You think that one of Ethan’s ex’s hired Rhoads?” I realized out loud.
“We’re investigating all possible angles. This is just one of them.”
The blonde at the school… maybe she really wasn’t Ethan’s cousin. Or maybe Ethan’s right and Marsha hired Rhoads to throw suspicion toward him. I can’t believe the woman would rather send us both to jail than part with the extra inheritance.
I cleared my throat. “There’s something we should tell you, Detective.”
“No, there isn’t,” Frank interrupted. He locked eyes with the detective.
“Would you like a few minutes of privacy with your clients?” he asked.
“Yes,” Frank replied, his voice scolding.
What the hell have I done wrong now?
Dickson pushed his folding chair away from the table and moved to the door. “Would anyone else like coffee or danish?”
“No, thank you,” we replied in unison.
“What was that about?” I asked Frank the moment the door closed behind the detective.
“That’s exactly what I want to know. What do you need to tell Dickson?”
I took a deep breath and filled him in on our theory.
“When did you find out about this Heather woman?” he demanded.
“Last week. I’m sorry, I assumed Walt told you,” I replied.
“Walt knows about this?” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” I confessed, twisting my fingers together.
“I’m sorry, Frank. I’m the one who wanted to keep this theory quiet. I’m in an impossible situation and I didn’t want to make accusations about my family without proof.”
Frank shook his head. “You should have talked to me as soon as you found out that woman was at your school. You two could get in real trouble for withholding evidence in an ongoing investigation.”
I felt my phone vibrate against my leg and retrieved it from my purse. Ben had finally responded to my text. Ethan’s cousin wasn’t the woman he met at the school. I gave Frank and Ethan the news.
“What do we tell Dickson?” Ethan asked.
“We tell him the truth… mostly. You have to tell him that you talked to Ben last week. Then Ethan was arrested, and you forgot about the conversation. Today, you mentioned the visit to Ethan. You started talking, got suspicious, and sent Heather’s picture to Ben.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ethan agreed.
The door opened and Dickson peeked his head in. “Do you need a few more minutes?”
“No, we’re ready for you,” Frank answered.
The detective sat back down and took a long sip from a small Styrofoam cup. “What did you need to tell me, Emily?”
I repeated exactly what Frank suggested, with a few added embellishments. “We were going to call you as soon as Ben got back with us. But as you can see, that just happened.”
“This is fantastic,” Dickson announced. “I’ll speak with Mr. Simmons tomorrow. Once I get him to narrow down the timeline, I’ll have my guys review the security footage again. If we can ID the female subject, we’ll double our odds of tracking these people down.”
I exchanged a glance with Ethan and he cleared his throat.
“Detective, there’s another angle you might want to look into.”
“What’s that?” Dickson looked up from the notepad he was writing on.
Ethan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think my parents are involved,” he confessed. “My mother, mostly.”
“Interesting… what makes you think that?”
“After Emily was arrested, my parents tried to blackmail me into breaking up with her. We pretended to stay apart to keep them pacified. When Emily’s name was cleared, I expected them to relax. Instead, Victor made it clear he would tank my career if I didn’t do as my mother said. I believe you’ve seen the rest play out in the news.”
“You think your parents sent our suspects to the school?”
“I think it’s possible. I think my mother is capable of anything,” Ethan agreed with a cringe. I knew that as much as he hated what his parents were doing, it pained him to give them up to the police.
“If your parents were this determined to get rid of Emily, and you believe they’re capable of anything, wouldn’t it make more sense for them to go after Emily directly? Why involve the Hollis boy at all?” the detective countered.
Ethan shrugged. “She must have trusted someone would notice Alfie collapse, and he’d get his Epi-pen in time. Emily’s ruined and sent to prison, but Marsha has no actual blood on her hands.”
Detective Dickson shook his head. “For what it’s worth, I believe your stepfather set you up on the doping. But I’m not buying your theory that your mother is involved with the Hollis case. To be honest, this interview was just a box I had to check off the list for the sake of being thorough. We have to investigate all connections, and Dallas connected our guy to you. But I think the Hollis family was the intended target. I expect our mystery woman will be linked to them, somehow. Is there anything else I need to know before we wrap this up?”
Ethan and I both shook our heads.
“We’ve told you everything, Detective. Like I told you the first time I was in this room, we want to do everything we can to help,” I replied.
“Do you happen to know Mr. Simmons’s schedule? I’d rather not interrupt any of his classes if I can help it.”
“His planning period is from two to three. If you want, I’ll tell him to expect you.”
“That will be perfect,” he agreed. He got back on his feet and ushered us out of the room.
“Just hold tight, kids. I know this has been rough. But now that we have pictures of two suspects, it’s only a matter of time before they’re in custody.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I can’t believe how many reporters are outside,” I groaned, my stomach churning with nerves. I looked around the packed courtroom and wondered how many of the spectators believed I was a battered girlfriend.
“It’s going to be okay, kiddo,” Walt assured me. “Frank told me he spent a lot of time on the phone with the prosecutor this morning. I don’t think this hearing is going to go the way you’re expecting.”
“I hope you’re right. But I have to say I’d have a little more faith if Frank were here. Ethan’s hearing starts in five minutes,” I whispered, my pulse racing.
After a lot of thought, Ethan decided to change his plea to no contest to the assault
charges instead of continuing on with a trial. Frank spoke to the prosecutor, who agreed he wouldn’t push for jail time.
I stared at Ethan as he sat quietly at the defense table. I wanted so badly for the nightmare to be over for him. I said a silent prayer that the prosecutor would keep his word and Frank finally pushed through the courtroom doors.
“Sorry,” he whispered as he passed us.
He moved with quick, excited gestures as he made his way to the front of the courtroom. He dropped a file on the prosecutor’s desk before taking a seat next to Ethan. They huddled together and after a few moments, Ethan pulled away looking just as excited as our lawyer.
Oh my God. Did we finally catch a break?
A wave of adrenaline washed over me and my heart skipped with excitement. Something happened and by the looks of it, it was good news.
“All rise,” the bailiff instructed. “This court is now in session. Her Honorable Judge Liesel Henshaw is presiding.”
A tall, formidable looking woman with a round face stepped through the side door and settled down behind the bench.
“You may be seated,” she called out. She slid a pair of reading glasses up her nose and peered down at the file.
“We’re here to discuss the charges against Ethan McAlister,” she began. “Mr. Feldstein, feel free to begin your opening statement.”
The prosecutor rose to his feet. “Your Honor, the defendant himself has admitted he assaulted Mr. Montez. Why he entered a not guilty plea is beyond me, quite frankly. The defense is going to try to persuade you to believe Mr. McAlister was provoked, and therefore not responsible for his actions. I will call multiple witnesses who witnessed the attack first-hand and can attest to the fact that Mr. McAlister was completely in control. I trust that your honor will see the defendant’s excuses for exactly what they are: excuses.”
The prosecutor returned to his chair and Frank left his. “Your Honor, the state’s witnesses will not be necessary. We’re willing to concede that Mr. McAlister hit Mr. Montez several times with his closed fist. We simply request that the court listen to a new witness who just came forward this morning.”
“If you’re admitting your client’s guilt, I think we’re done here,” the judge replied, her voice irritated and dismissive.
“Your Honor, due to my client’s profession, the state has charged him with second-degree assault. They basically declared his body a deadly weapon. I feel the new witness will shed light on my client’s behavior and perhaps persuade you to reduce the charges.”
“Mr. Feldstein?” the judge asked.
He cleared his throat and rose slightly out of his seat. “If the defendant is admitting guilt, the state is fine with the defense’s request.”
“Very well, counselor. But make your point quickly.”
“The defense calls Doctor Harold Levin to the stand,” Frank announced.
A tall man with gray hair and fallen, defeated shoulders made his way to the stand. The bailiff swore him in and Frank approached the stand.
“Doctor Levin, please tell us where you’re employed.”
“I am the lead physician for the National Anti-Doping Initiative.”
Frank nodded. “You drug test athletes predominately, yes?”
“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
“Were you present when the defendant was tested at Stallions Stadium on Saturday, January ninth of this year?”
“Yes,” he agreed again, his voice heavy with guilt.
“The results of that test?”
“They were positive.”
“Positive… are you aware that seven hours later, the defendant had a second test, which came back clear of any drugs? And that he’s passed two subsequent tests?”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Your lab is currently verifying the results of those tests, correct?”
“Correct.”
Where is this going?
The doctor was sweating so hard, I half expected him to melt into a puddle on the witness stand.
“Doctor Levin, how long do anabolic steroids stay in someone’s system?”
“Two to three months, in most cases.”
“As an expert in this field, how do you explain the contradicting test results?”
The doctor let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “I altered Mr. McAlister’s results at the request of Victor Montez.”
I must be dreaming. This is too perfect to be reality.
“Did Mr. Montez pay you to alter the results?” Frank pressed on.
“No. Mr. Montez has certain… evidence of a personal indiscretion. He blackmailed me into changing the results.”
“Thank you for coming forward, Doctor Levin. I have no further questions.”
Frank returned to his table and the prosecutor sprang to his feet.
“Doctor Levin, what is the nature of this so-called evidence Mr. Montez has against you?”
The pained look on the doctor’s face made my heart ache for him. I hated that the prosecutor asked the question, but I was curious to hear the answer.
“I cheated on my wife,” Levin confessed. “It happened several years ago, at one of Mr. Montez’s casinos. He has video that I thought would ruin my life.”
“And why have you come forward now? Did Mr. McAlister offer you protection, money?”
“No, sir. I came forward because it’s the right thing to do. It’s what I should have done in the first place, after Victor confronted me with the video. I confessed to my wife yesterday and called Ethan’s attorney this morning. I fully understand that coming forward means the end of my career. But I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t.”
The prosecutor nodded. “Did Mr. Montez tell you why he wanted you to tamper with Mr. McAlister’s test results?”
“He said Ethan wasn’t doing as he was told and needed to be taught a lesson.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I have no more questions.”
“The witness is excused,” the judge declared.
The prosecutor stayed on his feet. “Your Honor, the defendant has already admitted his guilt. The state is willing to reduce the charge to fourth-degree assault, in light of the new witness.”
“Very well, counselor. I approve. Mr. McAlister, please stand.”
Ethan and Frank rose to their feet.
“I hereby find you guilty of assault in the fourth degree. I understand that Mr. Montez provoked you, and I find it appalling. As was your reaction. I’m sentencing you to two years of probation and a six-month anger management program. I understand that violence is a part of your life, Mr. McAlister. But keep it on the football field. If I see you in my court again, I won’t be so lenient.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a grateful nod.
“Court is dismissed,” she declared. She halfheartedly knocked her gavel on the desk and Ethan turned to me with a sad smile. I leaned over the half wall partition and wrapped him in a hug.
“This couldn’t have gone better,” I whispered into his ear.
“I know,” he agreed, holding me tighter. “A part of me was still hoping I’d get out of this without probation. I need to talk to Frank and see if I’ll be required to stay in Oregon.”
“I know you’re worried about your career. But I’m happy just knowing you’re not going to jail.”
“That’s definitely an upside,” he agreed, pulling away with a grin.
“Congratulations, Ethan,” Walt said. He reached for a handshake and pulled Ethan into a hug. “I’m going to introduce myself to Doctor Levin and thank him for coming forward. Want to join me?”
“Definitely,” Ethan agreed.
“In a minute. First, I’m going to the restroom,” I told them.
Ethan planted a soft kiss on my forehead, then he and Walt joined Frank and the doctor near the witness stand. As the relief started sinking in, I suddenly became very aware of the crowd and all the noise they were making. No one was leaving the courtroom, and I realiz
ed they were all hoping for a photo op.
Nice. Yesterday, they were ready to lynch him.
I was relieved to find the women’s room empty. I peed, washed my hands, and nearly walked straight into Marsha as I swung open the bathroom door. She stumbled backwards a few steps, then met my eyes with a glare.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. I looked her up and down, a bit confused by her sudden change of style. She’d traded in her usually tailored looked for baggy mom jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled into a low, messy ponytail and her face was cosmetics free.
She must have wanted to blend in with the crowd.
“I came to support Ethan,” she lied.
“That’s horseshit and you know it. You set all of this in motion. You have no regard for anyone but yourself, do you, Marsha? You tried to mastermind your own child’s destruction. Not to mention what you did to poor little Alfie.”
Her eyes widened and I could tell my last comment caught her off guard. “That little boy from your class? You think I was the one who hurt him?” I could tell the confusion in her voice was genuine, but it didn’t slow me down.
“Don’t stand there pretending to be innocent. Ethan and I both know what you’ve been up to. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my fiancé.”
I pushed past her and continued on to the courtroom. Walt and the bailiff were waiting for me just outside the door.
“Ethan was about to be mobbed, so a few of the guards escorted him and Frank to the car,” he explained. “Officer Carlton waited to escort us.”
“Thank you. I’m ready to get out of here.” I took my uncle’s arm and he gave it a gentle pat.
“I’m sure you’re ready to relax, now that all of this is over,” Walt observed.
“Who said anything about relaxing? Now that I know neither of us is going to prison, I have a wedding to plan.”
***
“Want another glass of wine, baby?” Ethan asked. He stood at the bar cart and poured himself a third glass of sangria.
“No, two is my limit tonight. It’s a school night, remember? Besides, we still have a ton of work to do,” I reminded him. Ethan and I were in a spare bedroom he was converting into a home office. I sat crossed legged on a leather chaise lounge with two different binders in front of me. One was full of wedding plans, the other held ideas for renovating the house.
