by Alicia Scott
“I don’t know,” she said tightly. “But maybe you could’ve asked me about it.”
“I can’t just ask you about it. I’m a cop.”
“Well, I didn’t kill Olivia Stuart, and I can’t believe you people are searching my house because of something my father did twenty years ago. How is that probable cause?”
“There’s more to it than that.” He wouldn’t look at her again.
“What do mean by that?” she demanded.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the investigation with you. But as a detective, I can recommend that you call a lawyer.”
She stared at him a moment, then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Dammit, Jack, can’t you trust me at all?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“God, you spent the night with me. Do you really think I could kill someone?”
He looked away. She could see that he was struggling as much as she was. “I want to believe in you, Josie,” he said at last. Her elation, however, was short-lived. His gaze returned to her steadily. “But I can’t.”
“Jack—”
Stone abruptly walked into the kitchen. He looked at Josie, and she saw hurt and condemnation in his eyes. She felt as if she were in a dream, sucked into the Twilight Zone, and roaring filled her ears. What now? What now?
Stone held up a syringe and a vial. “We found the syringe in your bedroom, Josie. Along with the vial labeled Pure Potassium. Ms. Reynolds, you have the right to remain silent…”
She began to sway. Her gaze went to Jack. His expression had gone cold. As she watched, he reached behind him and pulled out the handcuffs.
“Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney—”
“This, this is ridiculous,” she whispered hoarsely. “Why would I do such a thing? Jack…”
“We’ll have to audit Grand Springs’s books. Maybe they’ll reveal the truth.”
She recoiled. And the pain was too much. She wanted her mother, she wanted her father, she wanted Olivia Stuart back. She was so lost and there was no one to save her. Once more, a Reynolds was being thrown into jail and there was nothing she could do. And Jack Stryker wouldn’t meet her gaze.
She stood alone and the weight crushed her to the floor, where the linoleum felt cold against her cheek right before the kitchen went black.
Chapter Seven
Some days just keep getting worse.
They drove Josie to the police station in silence. An officer took her fingerprints and police photo, then removed all her jewelry and put it in a manila envelope. She was handed an orange snap-up suit, official attire of the Grand Springs jail. Then they brought her to interrogation room B. The syringe and clear glass vial had gone to the state labs for analysis; they probably wouldn’t have results back until at least Monday afternoon, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t question her about the articles now.
“Want to tell us one more time where that syringe and vial came from?” Stone did the talking. Jack wasn’t sure he could get his lips to move.
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Josie. This will go a whole lot easier if you just cooperate.”
She looked at him flatly. “Gonna beat it out of me next?”
“Josie—”
“I want my attorney.”
“Sure, sure, in a minute. Why don’t you tell us where you got the potassium from. What about your pharmacist boyfriend?”
“I want my attorney.”
“And the syringe? Did you get the syringe from him, too?”
She pursed her lips together and stared back mutinously.
“Why?” Stone asked softly. “Why did you kill Olivia Stuart?”
“Detective, give me my phone call now, or the civil suit will keep you tied up in court until you’re ninety and Jessica will get to raise your children alone. Are we clear?”
They gave up and led her to the phone. It was a high-profile arrest—they couldn’t afford any stupid breaches of protocol. Cases like this were strictly by the book.
After Josie disappeared down the corridor to her jail cell, Stone and Jack went to meet with Chief Sanderson. He was at once proud and nervous about the arrest. He’d known Josie. He’d liked her, but not all criminals looked like Satan. With them in his office, he called the mayor and informed him of the news. The chief would prepare a statement for the press, but of course they’d want one from the mayor’s office as well. The chief looked them in the eye.
“You had a warrant?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It was a clean search?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You Mirandized her?”
“Yes, sir.” Stone grinned. “Come on, chief, would we ever do anything wrong?”
Sanderson rolled his eyes. “This isn’t fun and games, Richardson. You just arrested our city treasurer, for God’s sake, someone who’s been very active in the community—”
“Chief, she had potassium and a syringe taped beneath her bureau—”
The chief held up his hand. “I’m not saying she didn’t do it. I’m just saying we’d better have all our ducks in a row.”
“Ducks are in a row, sir, and quacking nicely.”
They were dismissed in time to meet up with Josie’s lawyer, a local guy Jack recognized from various functions. He didn’t look amused.
“You the arresting officers?”
“Yes, sir.” Stone was still talking, Jack still staring at far walls.
“Well, let me be the first to tell you that it will be a cold day in hell before you’ll be allowed to question my client again. I’ve already read your case and it’s so damn circumstantial any five-year-old could see she’s innocent. Do you even know everything Josie Reynolds has done for this community? And now you’re going to tell this town she’s a murderer?” He shook his head. “Detectives, start eating your bran flakes, because I’m going to be all over you on this one.”
He pivoted sharply and rapped down the hallway.
Stone took a deep breath, his glib expression falling away to reveal the strain underneath. “Nice guy,” he muttered. “For a lawyer.”
Jack remained leaning against his desk, his ankles crossed, his arms crossed, his face expressionless. Since he’d first seen the articles on Josie’s father, a cold fist had formed in the pit of his stomach. Now it moved up to his chest, snatching the emotion from him and leaving him on autopilot.
Stone ran his hand through his hair. “Damn,” he said at last.
Jack just nodded. There was a rare awkwardness between him and his partner. He didn’t have the energy to bridge it.
“Chief’s not going to be happy to hear that you were involved with her,” Stone murmured.
“No.”
“Anyone else know about it?”
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“What about her? She tell people?”
Jack shrugged. He didn’t want to think about Josie. He didn’t want to remember her sprawled on her bed in her red kimono, smiling so purely. He didn’t want to remember himself sitting in her kitchen, wanting to believe her so badly. “I don’t know.”
“Jack…you did what you had to do.”
“Yeah. I’m good at that.”
Stone sighed. “For the record, I never thought it would be her. I really…I really believed she was close to Olivia.”
Jack didn’t say anything. His eyes stung and he resented that. Dammit, he’d been ready to believe Josie, too. He’d wanted, he’d needed to believe her. His lips twisted, but the expression couldn’t be called a smile. His gaze remained unfocused on the far wall as his thoughts grew fangs and quietly ate him alive.
First Marjorie and then Josie—he could really pick ‘em, that’s for sure. How could one man be so smart and objective about so much, and then show such horrible judgment toward women?
“You don’t trust anyone, do you, Stryker?”
“There you are.” Hal bustled through the do
or, looking like the chief’s call had pulled him away from a party at the tennis club—he was wearing khakis, a polo shirt and leather loafers. “I heard you finally made an arrest in my mother’s case.”
“Josie Reynolds,” Stone supplied. His tone was cool.
“What? Josie?” Hal seemed genuinely surprised. Then he simply shrugged. Abruptly, however, the full impact of the arrest hit him and his features screwed into a petulant scowl. “Ah, God, what a mess. She’s city treasurer, you know.”
“We know,” Stone said dryly. “Look, we found a syringe and vial in her house. Lab results aren’t back yet, but the case looks pretty tight.”
“Huh.” Hal was frowning, his political mind whirling. “She handles everyone’s money. They’re not going to like that. Did she say she was skimming from the books or something like that?”
“Ms. Reynolds has declined answering our questions. We would recommend an audit of the treasurer’s office.”
“Well, of course! First thing Monday, I’ll make the call. Damn.” Hal shook his head. “People aren’t going to like this, it really makes the mayor’s office look bad. I always wondered about her, too. I mean, anyone as beautiful as her, working as an accountant?” Hal shook his head again.
Jack discovered he wanted to hit the man. He clenched his fist at his side, he kept his face remote. But the fist was uncurling in his chest, his emotions churning to life. He was thinking of Hal’s words and the press conference to come. Josie would be raked over the coals, personally and professionally. Just last week, everyone was telling him how good she was at her job, how much she gave to the community.
By next week, how many people would still stand behind her? And how many would simply shake their heads and write her off even before the trial? She had no family here, she had no best friends. Her boss seemed willing to hang her out to dry. Either way, her career was ruined.
She’s a murderer, Jack. You were there to see the evidence. Stop playing the fool.
But he kept remembering the proud look on her face when he’d told her the town spoke highly of her. He recalled the patient way she’d helped Mr. Chouder and her passion for rebuilding after the storm.
Those impacts were real, those results meaningful. Josie Reynolds had given something to this town. And most likely, it would mean nothing now.
“I didn’t kill Olivia, you idiot. She was like a second mother to me!”
“I’m going home now,” he said abruptly. Hal had already walked away, but Stone looked at his partner with open concern.
“You wanna talk?”
“I want to get a good night’s sleep.”
“All right, all right. You could take tomorrow off, too, you know. I’ll follow up with the arrest reports, but there’s not much more to write up until the lab results come in.”
“No, that’s fine. I have other things to catch up on.”
“It’s a clean arrest,” Stone said softly. “It’s hard, but at least you found out the truth now.”
“Yeah. I guess there’s that.”
Jack walked away without looking back. He drove home with his hands locked on the wheel, his mind too numb to think. His dark apartment offered no comfort. The musty, foreign smell had never faded after all these years; it still wrinkled his nose and made him feel like he’d entered a hotel. He decided against turning on a light, sitting in the darkness instead where he could pretend his apartment was more attractive, more cheerful than it really was.
He kept seeing Josie. Over and over again, standing in her kitchen, telling him about her parents, making him want to believe. God, he’d wanted to believe.
Stone walking in with the damning evidence. Her gaze turning automatically to him, pleading, beseeching…hurt.
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t help. She was sitting in the county jail now, wearing an orange suit. Damn, damn, damn.
What was he supposed to believe? What was he supposed to believe?
He finally fell asleep. He dreamed of Josie, reaching out to him from behind prison bars. She begged him to help her, told him he was her last chance. No one had ever believed in her. No one had ever truly loved her. Couldn’t he see the truth? Couldn’t he trust her the way she had trusted him?
“One step at a time, Jack. You promised, you promised.”
He gave in abruptly, reaching for her hands, trying to pull her into his arms. Then suddenly she was Marjorie, spiteful eyes laughing, dark hair tangling around him. He tried to yank back, but she held him in place as her hair turned into a nest of vipers and bit his hands.
* * *
By Monday morning, word was all over town. Josie Reynolds had been arrested for the murder of Olivia Stuart. The papers had a field day, the chief’s phone rang off the hook. Judge Brennan was so impressed by the case, he denied her lawyer’s request for bail, stating that the woman who’d spent three months rebuilding the town didn’t have enough community ties to be a low flight risk. Now her lawyer was filing for a change of venue. According to him, there was no way Josie Reynolds would get a fair trial in Grand Springs.
Jack’s father didn’t disagree.
“What the hell have you done?” Ben demanded hotly by phone.
“Hi, Dad. Nice to hear from you, too.”
“I tell you to ask a woman out on a date, and you arrest her instead? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that maybe I was still a cop.”
“Cop shlop, any fool who knows Josie would know she’d never do such a thing. That woman loved Olivia. Didn’t you see her face at the funeral? She was as distressed as Eve—”
“I would hardly expect a murderer to show up and gloat.”
“And after everything she’s done for this town! If it wasn’t for her, old Bruester wouldn’t have his new hay barn, Jimmy Eisinger wouldn’t be able to feed his cows, and Simmons Hardware would’ve shut down for good after three generations of serving Grand Springs. Now, how do you explain a cold-blooded murderer doing all that?”
“Maybe she’s gunning for the position of mayor.”
“Mayor? Why would she want to be mayor? She’s a damn fine treasurer and everybody loves her—”
“That doesn’t mean she couldn’t have further ambitions.”
“Ambitions? Oh, for crying out loud, Jack, who would really kill to be mayor of Grand Springs? I love our community and all, but really, Jack, killing to be mayor of a small town? Start using your head, son, because Josie Reynolds is a real fine girl and there’s no way she committed a murder. And next time I talk to you, I want to hear what you’ve done about all this!”
“Dad—”
Ben hung up in his ear. Jack replaced the phone with a sigh. And the call from his father had been one of the friendlier ones. The people who’d never worked with Josie Reynolds were willing to believe her guilty. But those who had were completely up in arms. A small fund was already being raised for her defense, and this from people who just two days ago were struggling to raise money for themselves.
Jack was stuck somewhere in the middle, one foot in either camp and feeling the strain. The cop in him couldn’t ignore the evidence. The man in him couldn’t forget holding her in his arms. Historically speaking, however, the cop part of Jack Stryker had shown much better judgment than the man part.
He didn’t show up to work until 10:00 a.m. There he was greeted with the lab reports on the syringe and vial, as well as the mysterious envelope they had received containing the information on Josie. The envelope hadn’t yielded fingerprints, saliva or a postmark. It had obviously been sealed and delivered by someone who knew what they were doing.
The syringe and the vial were also lacking fingerprints. The needle, however, had traces of Olivia Stuart’s blood and skin. And the vial contained one hundred percent pure potassium.
* * *
“I brought you lunch.”
Sitting on her stiff jail bed, Josie stiffened, fighting the urge
to turn at the sound of Jack’s voice. She’d been rotting in this damn jail cell for almost two days with only her lawyer, eager Edward Finnley, for company. Apparently, she was the only female criminal currently residing in Grand Springs, so most of the other cells in the women’s section were empty. Of course, late Sunday night a couple of “professionals” had moved in briefly as next-door neighbors. They’d cracked their gum a lot, resigned to staying overnight because as they’d told her, their “men” wouldn’t bother with them till morning ’cause it was their own damn fault for gettin’ caught.
Mostly, however, Josie sat alone in the middle of a shadowed, concrete world where the odors of cleansing fluid and urine rolled across the floor in a thick miasma, curling into her hair and tattooing her skin. She didn’t remember what fresh air smelled like anymore, or how real clothes would feel. She got to pee staring at the corridor and hoping no one would walk by. The other two women hadn’t appeared to be bothered by the lack of privacy, so maybe she would get used to it in time. For now, her shame had backed up her system to such a point that all the bran flakes in the world weren’t going to help.
She wanted her house back. Her bedroom, her feather bed. She wanted her office and her dignity and her pride. She wanted the life she’d so carefully built, one brick at a time, so no one would ever doubt her or think of her as the Irishman’s daughter.
“Honestly,” Jack ventured again from the corridor, “I left my thumbscrews at home.”
“Hah!” She figured if she could get her hands through the bars, she might be capable of murder, after all. She kept her back to him resolutely.
“You don’t even want your lunch?”
His voice was cajoling. She granted him one look of pure disdain. “Sorry, but I don’t like green eggs and ham.”
