The Good Daughter

by Jean Brashear

  He smiled. “And you’re a dead man the minute you set foot inside the walls of Huntsville.” He walked toward the door and paused with his hand on the knob. “Me, I say good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  After they left, Vince could only stare at the door, his mind doing cartwheels.

  He had no alibi for the time of death. Akers had seen him with Balderas. So had a lot of other people.

  And all they had to do was talk to Tino to realize that he was still working Moreno, even though he shouldn’t be. Sure, it wasn’t much motivation for murder that Balderas had been a disappointment. But only Tino, Vince and the dead guy were aware of that. And if they kept digging, they’d find out that he’d lied about Tino being his CI. They could say anything, draw any conclusion. Point was, his weapon had been used, and his prints were on it.

  How did this tie into the missing evidence and Gloria’s denials? Everything pointed to someone inside the department, but Vince couldn’t accuse Newcombe without more proof.

  And he was stuck in here with no way to clear himself. The web kept closing in on him, slender, sticky threads binding him at every turn. Some spider he couldn’t see was hard at work on sealing him inside a prison of his own deceptions.

  For the first time in this whole nightmare, Vince felt the cold bite of real fear.

  “CHLOE, darling, what can you be thinking? Come home with us this instant.”

  Chloe winced as she saw her parents enter the lobby and mentally cursed Roger for calling them. “I’m not going anywhere, Mother.”

  “That man is accused of two murders,” her father’s deep voice rumbled.

  “One,” she corrected. “And he’s innocent.” She met her father’s eyes. “He shot a criminal in self-defense. A man who preyed on children.”

  “Darling, don’t do this,” her mother pleaded. “I’m certain you mean well, but don’t get involved in this sordid situation. It could have terrible repercussions for both you and Roger.”

  Her father placed one comforting hand on her shoulder. “We only want to help you, sweetheart.”

  “Vince is innocent.” She heard her shrillness but couldn’t stop. “Doesn’t anyone but me care?”

  “Chloe, keep your voice down,” Roger said, reentering. “Everyone’s listening.”

  Behind him she spotted the two officers at the console, eyes round at the spectacle. Shock washed over her parents’ faces.

  Careful Chloe would never make a scene.

  Careful Chloe never drew attention.

  Roger grasped her elbow and towed her toward the door. “I’m taking you home now.”

  Chloe dug in her heels, jerking her arm away from him. “Let him out now, Roger.”

  “I can’t do that. He has to go before a magistrate.”

  “Then make sure he sees a magistrate immediately.”

  He cut a glance toward the officers. “I will not do special favors for a murderer, Chloe.” His jaw tightened. “Not even for you.”

  “He’s in danger. He could get hurt in there—I heard them say so.” She nodded toward the two men.

  “He won’t get hurt.”

  Chloe didn’t believe him. “You’re only concerned about appearances, about how it will look to the press.”

  “He’s guilty. He’s going to prison for the rest of his life, at a minimum.”

  “You really are—” Her voice dropped to a stunned whisper. “You’re going to ask for the death penalty.”

  He didn’t answer, but she knew, and she was terrified for Vince. “You can’t—he didn’t do it, Roger. Something’s terribly wrong here. Don’t you have any regard for the truth?”

  He stared while her parents looked on as if she’d grown two heads. “There is nowhere for you to go in this, except to make your life into a nightmare. I’m warning you for the last time—remove yourself while you can.”

  “And what about Vince? Who watches over him?”

  “He’ll get what he deserves.”

  Rebellion burst past all the decorum and control she’d been taught. She had to protect Vince however she could. She glanced at her parents, then back at Roger. “I am telling you right now that if you don’t make sure he’s in a separate cell and safe as a baby, I’m going to talk to every reporter in town.”

  Her mother’s audible gasp didn’t deter Chloe. “I’ll make sure they know that a cop with a distinguished record is being persecuted by a D.A. who’s jealous of the attentions his ex-girlfriend is paying to that same cop.”

  Roger’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll call it pure rumor and innuendo.”

  “They won’t listen—it’s juicy stuff. I don’t think my parents would appreciate the negative publicity, either.”

  And Roger needed her parents’ backing to make his political dreams come true.

  Chloe’s father gaped at her as if he’d never seen her before. Her mother recovered more quickly. “Roger dear, there’s nothing wrong with what she’s asking, is there? That’s a simple precaution, isn’t it—not special treatment? Wouldn’t you give that to any policeman who found himself in jail overnight?”

  For once, Chloe wanted to applaud her mother’s Machiavellian mind. She’d given Roger the necessary out to preserve his pride.

  But she knew…and he knew…

  “It’s not up to me,” he said. “I don’t run the jail.”

  “But those who do would listen to you,” her mother continued. “You are a man of influence.”

  Chloe watched his pragmatism war with fury. For better or for worse, she’d cut the cords of their relationship, once and for all.

  None of that was important. Only Vince’s safety mattered.

  And then his freedom.

  “How much is his bond?” she queried Roger.

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “Five hundred thousand.”

  She stifled a gasp. “Roger, that’s absurd—he could be released on personal bond. He’s not going to run.”

  “You don’t seem to want to listen, Chloe. He’s murdered two people.” The look in his eyes told her Roger was all too aware that Vince didn’t have that kind of money.

  But she did. Not enough liquid funds for the whole thing, but sufficient for a bail bondsman’s cut. “Fine. I’ll make arrangements.”

  Her father stirred at that. “Chloe, you can’t mean to—”

  A little more rebellion flared. “If he doesn’t have the money, I’m posting it. He is not spending one more second in custody than necessary.”

  “Your grandmother would be—” Her mother’s face was tight with strain.

  “Proud. Grandmother would have been behind me all the way. She would never have let an innocent man go to jail to save face. I can’t think of a better use for the money she left me.”

  Roger stared at her. “You don’t mind who you hurt.”

  Chloe lifted her head high. “I haven’t hurt anything but your ego, Roger. The rest of this is between me and my parents.” Turning toward them, she continued. “You should go home and rest.”

  “What about you?” her father asked.

  “I’ll be fine.” Every minute of the years she’d spent perfecting a cool exterior worked to her advantage at the moment. Vince needed her to be strong and smart. He had so much against him, so little on his side.

  Anger uncoiled again. He’d had a stellar career, had clawed and scratched his way from nothing. Yet through the actions of unknown enemies, he stood to lose everything.

  Even his life.

  “All right,” her father said. Then he paused, his gaze filled with concern. “Sweetheart, I’m afraid you’re making a big mistake, but—” He drew in a deep breath, and she could see his fatigue. “If you need my help—”

  Chloe bit her lip to keep sudden tears at bay. “I—” She stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered, holding firm against the longing to seek his shelter. “Just rest now. I’ll call you later.”

  As she watched them go, weary and drained, Roger paused beside
her. “We could have gone to the top together, you know.”

  The smile felt sad as it curved her lips. “I’ve never aspired to the top.”

  “How did I miss that?”

  “You never asked what I wanted. You never noticed.”

  But she didn’t blame him for being confused. She wasn’t sure who this woman was, either.

  THE NEXT MORNING, Vince felt eyes on him at every step. Presumption of innocence be damned; every Tom, Dick and Harry seemed to have written him off.

  And the press vultures already circled the carcass.

  The officer who held his arm regarded him uneasily. Pariah…leper…good cop gone bad. He could see it, could smell the questions that brimmed.

  Oh, he’d gotten some sympathetic looks, and maybe some of his fellow cops had their private doubts about his guilt, but the distancing was already under way.

  Vince stopped before the bench, shoving out of his mind how much he hated wearing the baggy prisoner’s uniform, being cuffed, being stared at… judged without a trial.

  “Vincent Coronado,” the magistrate began. “You have been charged with capital murder in the death of Hector Balderas. Do you have a lawyer to represent you?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” In the long, dark hours just past, Vince had wrestled with the decision. On principle, he found all defense lawyers scumbags; he’d never imagined having to choose one for himself. He’d thought about the sharks, the ones who could get Adolf Hitler off with a slap on the wrist. Maybe one of them should have been his choice, but Vince wasn’t guilty. He wouldn’t need a shark.

  At least, that was what he told himself when the twist in his guts subsided and he could retain a grip on hope.

  So he’d chosen to go for the only criminal lawyer he knew who might be worthy of a cop’s respect. Gil Edwards won his share of cases, but he refused to have drug dealers as clients. That he had standards was a big point in his favor.

  The magistrate read him his rights again. “Do you understand them, Mr. Coronado?”

  Vince nodded, jaw tight.

  “Speak up, please.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Your bond has been set at five hundred thousand dollars.”

  Half a million bucks. It brought home, as nothing else had, just how intent Barnes was on putting him away. The big surprise was that he had a chance for bail at all, but it didn’t really matter. He’d turned over and over how he could scrape up the money and had come up empty.

  In between, Whalen’s promises had whispered in his ear. The idea of waiting, night after night, for trial in the Travis County Jail, not in the relative safety of a holding cell, was sobering.

  He’d endure it; he had no choice. He’d endured worse. By now, the art of turning off his feelings was second nature.

  The gavel slammed down, and Vince’s hearing was over.

  The jailer led him back to his cell, pausing in an empty hallway. “I heard your bond’s already been posted, Coronado.”

  His head whipped around. Nobody he knew had that kind of money.

  Then it hit him. Chloe might.

  Could it be? Would she have done that? He’d tried not to think about her, about their night together. Remembering it had been the worst kind of torture—the rich cream skin, the golden tumble of her hair…the way she looked at him, cried out in passion and made him feel like a god.

  How she’d wept in his arms.

  He couldn’t let her be tarnished. Mike was supposed to keep her out of this mess. What had she been doing while he was locked up?

  But he didn’t know who else could have posted his bond.

  And he couldn’t decide whether to hang his head in shame—

  Or jump for joy.

  SIX ENDLESS HOURS LATER, Vince signed the form inventorying his possessions, then unzipped the pouch and emptied out the contents. After slipping his keys in one pocket, and wallet in another, he slid the watchband around his wrist and fastened it as he walked down the hall.

  And then he saw her.

  Out of place in this venue of broken dreams, Chloe looked tired but resolute. Brave. Somehow stronger than when he’d been ripped away from her side.

  She made his heart hurt, yet simply seeing her soothed something raw, way down deep.

  His footsteps slowed.

  The officer behind him spoke up. “She’s been here for hours. Took on Barnes in the booking area, according to the last shift. Demanded that he let you go right then. When that failed, she pulled some trump card to get you moved to your own cell.”

  Vince couldn’t decide how to feel. Embarrassment that he needed her to bail him out…chagrin because he should be protecting her, not the other way around. But within him something warmed. Admiration stirred.

  She’d stood up for him. The boy who’d been shuffled around or ignored since the age of four felt a comfort he’d never expected to find. A tigress lived within that delicate body, the same courageous woman who opened her heart to those women at the shelter, who endured whatever they dished out.

  He wanted her so badly he could chew his way through razor wire.

  He might be down, but damned if she hadn’t just handed him a rope. What would that support cost her? She’d set foot squarely into this situation beside him. Now the stakes were higher than ever—he needed to clear this mess up for more than just himself. Had to be certain Chloe didn’t pay the price.

  Soft brown eyes gazed across the room at him, bruised shadows underscoring her exhaustion. He wanted to go to her, to pull her into his arms. To squeeze her until he could make himself believe she was real. Breathe in the scent of her hair until his lungs were free of jailhouse despair.

  But Vince was a realist. There could be no happy ending for them. Sooner or later, the gap between them would prove impossible to span. He might want nothing more than to spirit her away to someplace where they had all the time in the world and only each other, but that was a fantasy. In the real world, he was a danger to her.

  So just as she took her first step toward him—

  He turned his back. “Get her out of here,” Vince said to Mike, standing nearby. “And keep her away.” Feeling as though his chest had been ripped open and everything important was spilling out, he forced himself to leave her behind.

  But he heard Chloe’s faint cry of pain, quickly muffled.

  That’s it, love, he thought, steeling himself not to turn around. Start forgetting me.

  And save yourself.

  MIKE HAD WANTED to stay, but she’d played on Vince’s need for his help, desperate for the refuge of her home, to be alone where she could think. Blindly, she made her way through the house, hoping it would soothe her as always before.

  But it wasn’t working. The strain between her and her parents…the soaring emotion of her night with Vince…Don’s contempt…Roger’s scorn—all of that she could have handled.

  Until Vince had walked away, when she longed so badly to hold him.

  To be held.

  Just then, the phone rang. Chloe darted across the kitchen, snatching the receiver, breathless. Maybe he was only trying to keep things private between them back there. “Vince?”

  “Who?”

  Chloe frowned. “Who is this?”

  “Chloe, it’s Ivy.”

  “Oh.” Chloe clutched the phone, seeking poise that had abandoned her utterly. “How—how are you?”

  “What is it? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m—” The concern in Ivy’s tone undid her. Chloe swallowed past a boulder lodged in her throat. “No. I mean, I’m not hurt or anything, I’m just—” Her voice broke.

  “I can be there in three hours.”

  Chloe sank against the counter. “You would do that?”

  “Of course.” Ivy’s voice demonstrated honest surprise. “You’re my sister. I love you.”

  Just like that, barely knowing her, Ivy would drop everything to be with her.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”


  “Oh, Ivy…” She was so exhausted she couldn’t think where to start.

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to hear if you’d rather I didn’t.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Chloe said. “I’m just so…tired.”

  “Then crawl into bed and get some rest,” Ivy responded in a distinctly maternal tone. “You just sit tight, sweetie. I’m on my way.”

  “Ivy, you don’t have to—”

  “Of course I do. I love you, Chloe. We all do. Now, you get some rest.”

  Chloe tried to think what she should say to this kind, generous woman who acted as though this was simply routine, that she should drop everything to be with a woman she hadn’t seen in more than twenty years.

  But the wallpaper across from her wavered, and bone-deep fatigue dragged at her. “All right, I will. And Ivy—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you. But tomorrow’s soon enough. And if things change and you can’t afford the time—”

  “I told you I’d come, and I meant it.” Ivy chuckled, and the sound of it warmed a little of the despair that had chilled Chloe’s heart since she’d awakened with men pounding on Vince’s front door. “Now, get in that bed, young lady.”

  Chloe pressed trembling fingers to her lips. “Okay. Goodbye, Ivy.”

  “Sweet dreams, little sister.”

  Chloe held on to the phone for a long time after Ivy was gone, trying to clasp her sister’s warmth to her like a blanket against the frozen ache inside her.

  Bed. She needed sleep.

  Where would Vince sleep tonight?

  She shouldn’t care. Tomorrow she had to return to the office, had to face Roger and Don and everyone who would be aware that she’d gambled everything on a man who had walked away from her without a backward glance.

  Inside her bedroom, Chloe began to shake. Her knees threatened to collapse. Dredging up strength, she moved like an automaton toward her bathroom. She closed that door, too, seeking more barriers between herself and whatever lay in wait.