by Brenda Novak
“Yes.” She wanted to know when it would be taking place, although she wasn’t sure she’d attend the whole thing. The first trial had dominated her life after Charlie died, what with waiting and wondering and preparing—and then testifying and listening to everyone else testify, including the infuriating witnesses called by the defense.
She’d have to testify again, of course. There was no way to avoid that; she didn’t even want to. She had to do her part, for Charlie’s sake. But she didn’t have to sit in court day in and day out and see all those gruesome photographs of the man she loved. The morning the first trial ended in a hung jury had been almost as painful as the night Charlie was shot.
The prospect of going through it all again was too daunting to consider.
That didn’t mean she wouldn’t keep abreast of what was happening, however. Only once she knew Sebastian Young was back in prison—this time for the rest of his life—would she feel entirely safe.
“Yes. When’s the new trial? Have you heard?”
Once she had the date, she’d have a legitimate reason to call her in-laws, and then she could approach them about having Cassia come home before July. India had escaped San Francisco and all the people and places that reminded her of Charlie. She had fresh scenery and the promise of reestablishing her life—but now she was too alone. She thought that was the reason she was flailing around, grabbing on to strangers, like Rod Amos, who had no reason to care that she was drowning in a sea of loss and regret.
“The district attorney called me a couple of days ago,” Flores said.
She curled her fingernails into her palms. She could sense that, once again, she was about to be disappointed. “And...”
“It’s not good news.”
“Don’t tell me the DA has changed his mind!”
“I’m afraid so. He doesn’t want to try Sebastian again for fear the state will lose. He’s decided to wait until we can gather more evidence.”
Unable to continue standing, India sank into a chair. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll keep at it—and when we have more, we’ll bring him back to trial.”
“But that isn’t a certainty.”
He hesitated. “No.”
“Then...you’re letting him go.”
“We had to release him, India. We couldn’t hold him once we dropped the charges.”
“He’s out? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I’ve been meaning to, but...I knew how heartbreaking this would be for you.”
“It’s more than heartbreaking! He could find me again, Detective Flores. And what about Cassia? He knows she’s the reason I wouldn’t go with him when he tried to drag me off that night. Next time he won’t take the chance. He’ll kill her.”
“I understand the fear and pain you must feel,” he responded. “But please try to understand our dilemma. If we go back to trial and Sebastian gets off, we can’t try him again. We’ve discussed it at great length. After what happened with the last jury, we feel it would be smarter to wait and see if we can build a stronger case.”
India felt as if she’d been shot herself. As terrible as the past eleven months had been, as slowly as justice seemed to crawl, she’d still had faith that Sebastian would be convicted eventually. How could he not? She’d seen him shoot Charlie. There was no confusion in her mind about who was responsible or how it had happened.
She dropped her head in her hand. “What are the chances that you’ll find some new piece of evidence? They’ve got to be slim, at best. That means he might never have to answer for what he’s done.”
A long silence ensued. Finally, Detective Flores cleared his throat. “I hope that’s not the case,” he said. “And we have to hang on to that hope. It’s the only way to keep our sanity in the face of such a horrendous act. A lot of things could change, India. This isn’t over.”
But he hadn’t been able to deliver on anything. How could she trust what he told her? “You won’t get any more evidence from the house,” she said. “You went through it and released it. The place has been sold. You already subpoenaed Sebastian’s cell phone records. You searched his house and his car and didn’t get what you need. What could you possibly come across in the future that might strengthen the case?”
“Maybe we’ll receive a tip from a neighbor who hasn’t come forward yet, or someone will turn in the gun. It’s even possible his wife will leave him. If she does, she could change her story. I’ve seen that happen a number of times. If she’ll admit he went out that night, that they weren’t together, we might have what we need to get a conviction.”
“Sebastian shot Charlie!” India insisted. “I was there.”
“I believe you. However, your background...the mistakes you made in your youth...”
He let his words trail off. She could tell he didn’t want to come right out and say it, but the defense had assassinated her character. They’d painted her as a woman who couldn’t be trusted, someone who’d managed to get her hooks into Charlie, then killed him for his money and his life insurance.
Thinking about all the things that’d surfaced while she was on the witness stand made her sick—especially since her in-laws had been in the courtroom, staring up at her. She’d never forget the expression on her mother-in-law’s face when the defense claimed that Charlie’s wife was the person who had the most to gain from his death.
“I had very little parental support growing up,” she said. “My mother meant well, but she had to work two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. And my father was an alcoholic who stepped out of a bar when I was seven and was struck by a car. I was wild in my teens and early twenties. I hooked up with the wrong crowd. I dated the wrong men. But I put all of that behind me once I met Charlie and realized what I really wanted out of life.”
“I understand. People change. Still, your past doesn’t look good on paper. You were once an ‘old lady’ to a man in a biker gang—and drove the getaway car when Sebastian robbed a liquor store.”
“Sebastian didn’t tell me he was going to rob that store! I was waiting for him to pick up a pack of cigarettes!”
“Money is motive.”
Tears began to roll down her face and drip into her lap. “So is obsession. Sebastian was obsessed with me!”
“I get that,” he agreed. “But it isn’t motive we need so much as evidence.”
Charlie was dead, and yet Sebastian was free to go anywhere he wanted. How had it come to this? “What if Sebastian somehow finds out where I live?” she asked. “He could turn up at my house again.”
“I wish we could keep him behind bars,” the detective replied, “but we can’t.”
She was glad Flores didn’t point out that she was the one who’d given Sebastian her address the night Charlie was shot. She’d felt sorry for him, wanted to help an old friend get into rehab. She’d never dreamed Sebastian would read more into her actions, that he’d start trying to reconcile with her. I’ll never be happy without you, he’d said that night.
So he’d made it impossible for her to be happy...
“Have you told the Sommerses?” she asked dully.
“Not yet. I’ve been trying to figure out how to break the news to both of you. I knew how it would make you feel.”
She felt there was no justice in the world. That was how it made her feel. Then there was the helplessness. What now? How would she defend herself—or Cassia—from Sebastian if he tracked her down?
“I doubt he’ll bother you,” the detective was saying. “He’d be crazy to risk his freedom again.”
“You mean since he’s gotten off once,” she said. “Criminals do that all the time. They’re given a second chance, and then they reoffend, right?”
“If I were you, I’d get a security system. And keep an eye out. But try not to let this ruin
your peace of mind.”
She had to laugh. Could he be serious? She’d get a security system, but that wouldn’t stop Sebastian from getting to her if he was determined enough. All he’d have to do was follow her to Cassia’s preschool or the store, where she’d be defenseless.
“India?” Detective Flores said when she didn’t respond.
She couldn’t answer him. What was there to say? They’d let Sebastian go, and now he’d come looking for her. She’d testified against him. In his world, there was no greater sin, no greater betrayal.
“When?” she said as she wiped her cheeks.
“When...what?” the detective asked.
“When did you release him?”
There was another long moment of silence. Then he said, “Yesterday.”
Now she didn’t want Cassia to come home, not when the child would be so much safer with her grandparents.
That meant Sebastian hadn’t cost her only Charlie; he’d cost her Cassia, as well.
5
Rod cursed as he stared down at his new cast. The doctor had indicated that the worst of his injuries hadn’t occurred during the fight. He’d busted his hand trying to break his fall from the bike, but hitting Liam after had led to a second fracture—a stress fracture. The doctor couldn’t believe he’d been capable of using his fists, although Rod didn’t remember feeling he’d had any choice. When Liam came running back to him, he’d assumed he had to get up and defend himself. He wasn’t about to let Crockett, or anyone else for that matter, beat his ass.
So now he was looking at six weeks without the use of his right hand. He knew the routine, had been through it before—with a broken ankle from a waterskiing accident, a broken left wrist from when he’d been hit by a wild baseball pitch and a broken transverse process, one of the small bones coming off his spine, from when he’d rolled his four-wheeler.
Fortunately, his leg wasn’t broken, too. It just felt like it.
I could help get the dirt and gravel out of your leg...
As Rod passed India’s house on the way home, he remembered that offer and wished he’d taken her up on it. Maybe then he’d be able to go back there and get lost in her all over again. He was eager for any distraction absorbing enough to take his mind off his aches and pains—as well as the ominous news he’d received a few minutes earlier, when Chief Bennett had called to warn him that Liam Crockett’s sister was urging her brother to press charges.
If they sued for medical expenses, he’d have another fight on his hands, and this wouldn’t be physical, so he wasn’t as likely to win. His reputation—and the reputation of his family—would work against him, which was doubly unfair, since he hadn’t done even half the shit he’d been accused of doing.
Once he’d parked in his drive, his phone buzzed. He’d received a message from Cheyenne, Dylan’s wife. She was planning to bring him dinner tonight. He liked it when she cooked. She tried to mother them the way Dylan fathered them. But she wasn’t coming until six, and it was only two. Rod supposed that if he couldn’t spend the afternoon with India, he should try to get some work done. Dylan had sent him home, wouldn’t let him stay at the shop, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t mow the yard. At least he’d have something to show for the day.
He went inside to change into a pair of basketball shorts, which wouldn’t be as hot as his jeans. But then he noticed his laptop sitting on the coffee table and decided to take a minute to see if he could learn a few details about his new neighbor. He was more than a little curious, especially after last night.
Groaning as he eased into a recliner, he logged on to the internet. When he typed the name “Dr. Charlie Sommers” into a search engine, he thought he’d be lucky to find a brief obituary that would tell him how India’s husband had died.
But he got a lot more than that. Link after link filled the screen.
Renowned Heart Surgeon Shot in Bed
Wife Knew Gunman Who Killed Husband
Dr. Sommers’s Parents Hire PI
Secret Affair or Spurned Lover?
Sebastian Young Charged in Sommers’s Murder
Doctor’s Wife Claims Innocence
Wife’s Ex-Boyfriend Murders Heart Surgeon?
Surgeon’s Murder Trial Ends in Hung Jury
“Holy shit,” Rod muttered as he read the accompanying articles. No wonder India didn’t talk about how her husband had died. Her ex-boyfriend had broken in late at night and gunned him down while they were both sleeping and their young daughter was in the other room. According to one journalist, who’d reported on the trial, India stated under oath that she’d awakened to the sound of her ex-boyfriend’s voice demanding Charlie get out of bed. When she realized it wasn’t a nightmare and managed to open her eyes, she saw Sebastian Young standing at the foot of the bed, holding a gun.
Charlie, disoriented and barely awake, had reached for his cell—and was shot. The gunman then threatened to kill India’s daughter if India didn’t pack a bag and leave with him. She complied as far as gathering her things but pleaded and argued with him for the next few hours. It wasn’t until the housekeeper arrived the following morning, and the carpet cleaners rang the bell shortly after, that Sebastian dragged India out the back door. India claimed that he demanded she leave her child, which she wouldn’t do. She thought he was about to shoot her when the housekeeper stumbled on the bloody mess in the bedroom and started to scream. Fortunately, Sebastian didn’t pull the trigger. At that point, he panicked and ran.
What a story! Rod rubbed his chin as he searched through even more links. The trial had lasted for three weeks but ended in a hung jury. Some questioned whether India could’ve been involved, whether she might’ve killed her husband and blamed Sebastian, or manipulated Sebastian into killing her husband for her. Although there’d never been any charges filed against her, the suspicion lingered, which became more and more apparent as he continued to read.
Rod hoped to learn the DA’s decision on whether to try Young again, but he couldn’t find any word of it. The most recent articles were over a month old.
What had happened since? Was this Sebastian still in jail, awaiting a new trial? Or had he been released? And if he’d been released, where the hell was he? Was India worried that he might come back? Was that the reason her in-laws had her daughter?
She must have been severely traumatized. Not only had she lost her husband, she’d been villainized by the press and her detractors, too. “It’s always the spouse,” one neighbor had said.
At first, no surprise, the police had focused on India. The money she stood to receive, and the value of Charlie’s life insurance policy, had given her more than a million reasons to get rid of him. There was even some mention of the type of people she’d associated with before her marriage, as if the friends she’d once had proved that she wasn’t a good person.
They weren’t the sort Rod would’ve expected. One had belonged to an outlaw biker gang. She’d been with him for about a year—until he tried to run her over with his truck and she had to get a restraining order against him. Then she’d gotten involved with Sebastian, who’d robbed a store and spent four years in prison for it. Everyone pointed to that as proof that she must’ve known he was dangerous, that she must’ve wanted to get back with him when he was released from prison.
But robbery wasn’t murder. Sebastian had threatened the liquor-store clerk by saying he had a gun in his pocket; he hadn’t really had one. Nobody had been hurt, and he’d served his sentence for that crime. Those were important distinctions, and yet her detractors hadn’t cut her any slack. What the detective on Charlie’s case had to say was important, too. He told one reporter that she’d never written Sebastian or visited him, not after she met Charlie. There were no texts between them that included anything questionable or suggestive and only a few calls, which was consistent with her story that
she’d merely been trying to help him. Also, Sebastian had been out of prison for a year before he even reached out, and he did that on Facebook, so they had proof of first contact.
Rod didn’t believe India had anything to do with Charlie’s murder, and the police must not have found any evidence to the contrary because they’d dismissed her as a suspect early on. Plenty of people continued to doubt her, though. Rod came across several articles that pointed a finger at her. But he understood what it was like to be judged on the basis of the past. There was no getting rid of the stigma attached to certain mistakes.
Maybe he and India weren’t so different, after all.
Setting his computer aside, he pulled his cell out of his pocket. He had her number from when she’d called last night, trying to find his phone. He’d nearly added her to his contacts list several times today, but he’d stopped himself. Now he went ahead. She was innocent of her husband’s death. She truly loved Charlie. Rod could see that last night. She’d told him as much.
She’d also said she could use a friend, and he’d blown her off.
He felt bad about that now.
He felt even worse once he found her cookies.
* * *
India was concentrating so hard on her work that it took several seconds to realize someone was watching her. When it finally occurred to her that she had company, she jumped. She was so afraid Sebastian would appear out of nowhere, like he had before. But this time she knew who it would be. She’d heard Rod come home less than an hour earlier.
“Hey.” He had a toothpick in his mouth and a cast on his right hand. He hooked his left on the wood overhang as he gazed through the screen.
When she’d jerked, she’d messed up the pot she’d been throwing, which was unfortunate. She’d already started over several times. After what she’d heard from Detective Flores, she was too upset to have steady hands—and yet she’d needed something to do. She couldn’t sit there and worry indefinitely.
She wouldn’t start over again now, however. Having Rod so close made it virtually impossible to focus, especially since she wasn’t prepared to see him. She didn’t have any makeup on, or shoes—or even a bra. In deference to the heat, she’d stripped down to a pair of high-waisted cutoffs and an old button-down shirt of Charlie’s that she’d tied under her breasts.
