by Wendy Byrne
“I didn’t do it.” The words exploded out of his mouth in a fear-fueled torrent. Why, why, why hadn’t he stayed at Coach’s house Friday night? No, he’d wanted to be a big Goddamn hero and rescue Lexie.
“How do you know? You can’t seem to recall shit.”
“Because if I killed somebody, I’d remember.” Travis wished he felt as confident inside as his words indicated. “Besides, why would I kill Lexie’s stepdad?”
“Maybe because she hated him? Maybe because he was molesting her and you decided to take things into your own hands?” He tsked. “Juries eat that kind of shit up. Of course we’d need to get her to back you up. Unfortunately, she’s inconveniently out of the picture.”
“Everybody who’s talked to Lexie for longer than thirty seconds knows she hated her stepfather. It’s not like it’s some big hairy secret. And for the last time, I don’t know where Lexie is. Dr. Stern already grilled me earlier. As far as I know, her stepdad wasn’t molesting her. He was just a jerk and braggart, like every other asshole in Hollywood.” Exhaustion tugged at him as another round of questions he didn’t have the answers to were thrown about. How could he get Reggie to shut the hell up?
Reggie grabbed Travis by the front of his jumpsuit and pulled him to a standing position. “Whoa, boy. You shouldn’t be so damn cocky. You’re in deep shit. Don’t you get that?”
“Even if I could forget I’m in this hell hole, it’s hard not to get it when you keep reminding me every time you see me.” Travis yanked the t-shirt from Reggie’s grasp and sat back on his bed. His mother hated when he was disrespectful, but this asshole deserved it.
“You keep talking like that, you’re going to have to find yourself a new attorney.” He turned toward the door, his highly polished wingtips making a clicking sound as he moved.
The urge to shout ‘I should be so lucky’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. He wouldn’t put it past Reggie to somehow get him in trouble with the guards. Besides, if he said something, the idiot would probably hang around and argue with him more.
***
Jillian dragged herself out of the car and headed toward the house. Between court and her drive back into the city, it had been a hell of a long day. She was almost to the door when she heard a car. For the second time today and despite the fact she barely knew the guy, she hoped it was Sam’s red pickup coming up the driveway. Right now, he was a respite in the storm of trouble. And, most of all, for some inexplicable reason, he believed in Travis’ innocence.
Instead, Reggie sauntered out of his black Mercedes convertible looking the epitome of hot shot lawyer in an expensive black suit, white shirt and purple silk tie. He gave her a tight smile and pulled her into a hug.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen to Travis?” Fear tickled the base of her spine. Reggie wasn’t talking. That made her nervous.
“Let me take you out to dinner and we can discuss our options.” He rested his hand at the small of her back.
“I don’t want to go to dinner.” The touch of his hand on her back made her want to scream. In the middle of all this trouble, this idiot was trying to put the moves on her. Travis was right. Clearly Reggie was interested in a lot more than legal representation. “Tell me what happened.” She turned to face him. “Now.”
“I can see you’re upset. Can we go inside and sit down?” He moved to touch her but clearly thought better of it as he pulled his hand back at the last second.
This cat and mouse nonsense had to stop. “First tell me that Travis is okay?”
“He’s fine, but we have some new complications.”
She led as they walked toward the front door. Her fear escalated exponentially. Why wasn’t he elaborating? She’d never known Reggie to be silent for more than ten seconds.
She struggled to fit the key in the lock several times before she managed to open the door. Throwing her purse on the front hall console, she marched into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Rather than across from her, he sat down beside her and grasped her hand.
“I have some bad news.” He patted her knee. “The blood on Travis’ shirt matches Max Gill’s.”
Her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. “There’s more, isn’t there?” The weakness in her voice signaled her terror.
“While the gun didn’t match for the murder weapon, it did match for an unsolved murder from awhile back.”
She yanked her hand away from his and dropped her head to the table. All she could think about was that her descent into hell was happening at remarkable speed.
Chapter Six
Sam Carter knew firsthand about being in trouble. He’d had a couple of hellacious teen years and a juvie record that luckily had been sealed long ago. If it weren’t for the fact that after several years of bouncing around the system, he’d finally ended up with the Mother Teresa of foster moms—Mama Iris—he probably would be in jail now.
Instead, he’d achieved more than he’d thought possible and had his fifteen minutes of fame. A star wide receiver at the University of Southern California, he still held the record for most receptions in a season. His stint in the NFL had been less memorable. He blew out his knee the end of his third season. Between operations and a reliance on pain meds, he’d called it quits a couple of years later.
He finally came home to California, listened to Mama Iris’ advice and went back to school for a teaching certificate. He’d landed the job at Valley High, settled in and bought himself a small house a few miles from the school. While he taught math classes, coaching football was his passion. The kids’ enthusiasm and love for the game made him feel young again even as he approached forty.
That didn’t mean he took any crap. If a kid did something stupid, he’d get sidelined or kicked off the team if he didn’t straighten up. Having learned the hard way, he could spot trouble a mile away. But thanks to Mama Iris, he also knew how to give a kid a chance when he needed it.
Travis Beckett was one of those kids. Based on what Sam had observed, he was a good kid, still struggling to find his way. An absentee father didn’t help. The kid had a bit of an attitude when football camp started, probably in an effort to fit in, but came around pretty quickly.
He knew in his gut that the kid didn’t do what they’d accused him of doing. And he was determined to help in any way he could. Which was why, after football practice this Tuesday morning, he was driving to see him.
Juvie had been his home for a couple of years. He knew all about the fear and pervasive loneliness. Travis was a big kid, although more lanky than muscular. At the same age, Sam had already had the physique of an athlete so most guys steered clear of him. Being tall and big could protect you for a while in juvie, at least until a guy with a chip on his shoulder felt a need to prove something.
Old memories produced a reflexive flinch when the steel doors clanged behind him as he walked inside. After signing his name in the registration book, he made his way to the gymnasium, otherwise known as the visiting room.
Once there, Sam spotted Travis sitting with his mother. In a sea of average, Jillian Beckett stood out. With a model’s face and body, she drew attention even when dressed in a pair of old jeans and a pink oxford shirt. There was a part of him that found her attractive—okay, a huge part of him—even though it made him feel like shit thinking of her like that. His first priority should be Travis, and it was. It wasn’t the kid’s fault he had a babe for a mom.
He watched her get up and start to pace while Travis sat at the table looking nervous. Neither one seemed to be talking and Sam could sense tension between them even from across the room. It didn’t feel right to interrupt, but he didn’t have a choice once Travis spotted him and waved him over.
Jillian turned and stopped her frantic pacing. Hesitation played out on her face once she saw him. Something was going on between her and Travis and she didn’t want Sam’s interference. Before he could reconsider, Travis walked across the room and ushered him back to their table. “We could u
se some help, Coach.”
Her face was pale as she shook his hand and they both sat down. At least she’d stopped pacing. Still, he fought the urge to touch her as she clasped and unclasped her hands.
“I don’t want to interfere.” He held up his hands to illustrate his point.
She didn’t seem to know what to say. Instead, Travis broke the silence. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it, Coach.”
“I said I’d be here after morning practice.” Every few moments he slid his gaze towards Jillian to check whether some color had returned to her cheeks. Not yet.
“Yeah, I know but...” Travis didn’t have to finish the sentence. Sam knew the ending. Like him, disappointment in adults had been a part of this young man’s life as well.
“You said you could use some help. What’s going on?” Sam didn’t want to linger on thoughts of his past.
Travis looked at his mother, then at Sam, then hung his head. “I am so screwed. The blood on my shirt matches Max Gill’s and the gun I had in my room was used in a killing a while back. I swear I didn’t do either, but the evidence says otherwise.”
Despite the fact Sam didn’t think it was possible, Jillian’s face went paler. He thought for a minute or two she might faint even though apparently this wasn’t new information.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet but forceful even though it clearly took most of her energy to form the words. “Where did you get the gun, Travis?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
“Getting mad isn’t going to change anything,” she whispered.
“Jeremy gave it to me right after we moved. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I hid it in that old trunk and kind of forgot about it.” He shook his head. “He said it was a going away present.”
“I don’t remember Jeremy ever coming to the new house.”
Travis shrugged. “I guess he knew you didn’t want him around and came one time while you were out picking up art supplies.”
“How did he know I—” She stopped mid-thought, closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “Jeremy might have been setting you up. Did you tell Reggie where you got the gun?”
“How could I when he doesn’t even give me time to say anything? He’s an idiot. Can’t we find another lawyer?”
“Reggie is supposed to be good.” She drummed her fingernails on the table.
“But he sucks and you know it. He hates me. He thinks you’re hot. That’s the only reason he’s in this.”
“But I don’t know anybody…”
Despite feeling a little awkward, Sam spoke. “I have a friend who is a good criminal lawyer. He does a lot of juvenile work. Do you want me to talk to him?’
“Oh man, that would be great,” Travis interjected before Jillian had a chance to respond.
“I can’t promise anything, but maybe he can look at your file.” He didn’t want to overstep his bounds, and glanced at Jillian. “Is that okay? I know Reggie’s a friend of yours.”
“Actually, he’s a friend of my ex-husband.”
“And he has the hots for you,” Travis piped in.
She shook her head. “Reggie’s just a friend. Well, not exactly a friend, an acquaintance, I guess.” She chewed on her lip as she contemplated what to do. “But I’ve been thinking he might not be right for Travis. Everything I’ve read indicates that juvenile law is very different from adult criminal law.”
“Or we fire him because he’s a moron.”
“Travis, stop!” Clearly exhausted, she quelled her son with an outstretched hand. “I know he’s a bit of a braggart, but—”
“You don’t have to be polite cause Coach is here.”
She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. “Okay, yes, I think he’s an idiot. I was willing to put up with him initially because he’s won so many cases. But you’re right. He doesn’t believe in you.” She turned to look at Sam. “I’d like to meet with your friend if he’s available.”
“I feel better already.” Travis crossed his arms over her chest and slid back in his seat. “But I wish I could remember. Do you think I should let Dr. Stern hypnotize me? Maybe it would help.” Travis shook his head and looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t.
“Was he here?”
He nodded. “He was worried about Lexie and wanted to know if I knew where she is.”
“You can’t think of anywhere she might be?” Sam asked hoping for some new information.
“One time Lexie mentioned an aunt in Seattle. But that’s pretty far away. I don’t know how she’d get there.” He glanced at his mother.
She pulled a photo out of her purse. “This was in my e-mail sent from your phone on Friday night. Who are these people with Lexie?”
Travis glanced at the photo and shook his head. “I don’t remember taking it or sending it.”
“The date means you took it sometime Friday night.”
“Man, this is crazy.” Travis rubbed his hands over his face. “That’s Lexie and Jeremy, but I don’t know the other guys.”
“Do you have any contact information for Jeremy?”
He shook his head. “I erased it from my phone right after he gave me the gun.” After re-examining the photo, he said, “Lexie looks scared, doesn’t she?”
“That’s what I thought. Do you think this was taken at that party you went to? Do you remember where it was?”
“Lexie gave me directions, but I don’t remember the address or even what it looked like on the outside, except that it was big and white.”
“How far was it from Lexie’s house? Five minutes? Ten minutes?”
Travis drew fingers through his hair. “God, Mom, I was there like five minutes. It wasn’t my kind of scene anymore. I tried to get Lexie to leave, but she didn’t want to. And then I woke up in my car. That’s all I remember.”
“Can I see it?” Sam asked. The picture was out of focus but the girl did look scared and the boys around her looked like thugs. While it could have been taken by accident, it looked more like Travis had been trying to do it without anyone noticing. “Did you show this picture to anybody?”
She avoided looking at him. “I...”
“Mom, you didn’t go into the ghetto alone, did you?”
“It was broad daylight. Besides, I didn’t know where else to start to look for Lexie.”
Travis shook his head. “I can’t be in here worrying about you, Mom.” He glanced at Sam. “Can you help out, Coach? My mom can’t tackle this alone. She’s going to need help.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Travis. You can’t expect him,” she gave Sam a quick look, “to get mixed up in this too.”
“I don’t mind.” The idea of her driving around alone in those neighborhoods made his neck tense. She was way too attractive and didn’t have the street smarts to avoid trouble. “Did you give any of this info to the detective assigned to the case?”
She chewed on her lip. “I don’t want him to twist it in a different direction.”
“It’s worth a shot if nothing more than to plant a seed of doubt,” Sam said.
Travis placed his hand over his mother’s and whispered. “Mom, I’m scared.” He gulped while tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “How did that blood get on my shirt if I didn’t do it? And why can’t I remember anything?”
“There weren’t drugs in your system, except for your prescription.” She enfolded both her son’s hands in hers.
“Wait, Dr. Stern said there was ecstasy in my system, but I swear I didn’t take it.” After the earlier conversation, it was clear admitting this made him even more anxious.
She shook her head, “Dr. Stern must have been looking in the wrong file then because the detective said there were no drugs in your system.”
The guard signaled their time was up. Jillian stood and drew her son into a hug. For a long time they stood there, holding onto each other as if they had nothing else, the emotional connection palpable. Pain etched instantaneous lines onto her face.
“I brought you some books to read while you’re here.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I left them with the guard so they could check them for contraband first.” Somehow she managed a slight smile.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Sam remembered the one and only time he’d gotten into trouble at Mama Iris’ house. She’d flat out told him if he ended up in juvie again, she wasn’t going to visit. By that time he was used to the adults in his life disappointing him, but it was what she said afterward that had made his chest squeeze. ‘It hurts me too much to see a fine young man throw himself away.’ Her statement, coupled with the tears at the corners of her eyes let him know he’d finally found somebody who cared. At that moment he’d decided to change his life.
Once again he was at a crossroads. Somehow he knew that in committing to help he’d stepped over a line that could lead to trouble. But he also figured it was well worth it. He’d seen enough to know there was something off in what had happened to Travis.
He and Jillian walked together to their cars in silence. When she turned to look at him, she had a forced smile. “I’m sorry about my son. He worries too much. You don’t need to get involved. I know you’re busy. I can handle this on my own.”
“I’d be happy to help.”
She grasped his arm. “Really, I’d rather tackle this alone.”
Even though he wanted to finagle a way into her trust, he knew he’d have to wait until she was ready. “Call if you need anything. You still have my number, right?”
She nodded. “Thanks for being there for Travis. I truly appreciate it.”
“And I’m glad you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”
Pink rose to her cheeks. “I’m still embarrassed by what happened after court the other day.” She shrugged even as guilt played along her features. “It must have been a panic attack.”
“Understandable, considering the circumstances.”
She hesitated a second and drew a piece of paper out of her handbag. “Here’s my number. I’d like to meet with your lawyer friend about Travis’ situation.”
