by Robin Caroll
But something about her twisted Hayden’s gut into a massive knot. Like something deep inside him flipped on when he saw her.
“Have you taken leave of your manners? Go help with her things.” His mother’s words put his feet in motion down the stairs.
Rafe passed Hayden a bag, then reached for another plus a computer bag. “Hayden, this is my sister, Riley. Ri, this is Hayden Simpson, Remington’s best friend.”
“Nice to meet you.” How had his tongue tied so quickly?
She smiled, revealing a row of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Absolutely stunning. “You too.”
Within moments, everyone had been introduced and sat comfortably in the living room. Mom sat closest to Riley on one end of the sectional, while Rafe and Remington snuggled on the other with Chubbers at their feet and Hayden sat opposite his mom and Riley.
His mom leaned closer to Riley, patting her hand. “I love Life in the South. I’ve subscribed for years.”
“Thank you. I enjoy working for them.” The tip of her tongue ran over her bottom lip.
Why would that statement make her nervous? Maybe he’d misread her body language. Yet Hayden detected the slight quiver of her voice as well. He glanced at Rafe, who gave a split-second frown.
“Rafe said you came early because you were working on a story. Can you tell us about what?” Mom smiled and leaned even closer, fully engaging Riley. “I find reporting all terribly exciting.”
Although she kept smiling, Riley hesitated a fraction of a second before replying. “I’m doing a human interest–type story.” The smile faltered just a bit. “About families.”
“Interesting.” His mom leaned back against the couch, propping her feet up on the worn coffee table. “In Baton Rouge?”
“Yes, ma’am, they’re from Baton Rouge.” Riley swallowed. “The mother and children are still there.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of family dynamics are you talking about here?”
The tension stole into the room like a gator slipping into the murky darkness of the bayou.
She cleared her throat. Hayden almost offered her a glass of water like he would a witness. “A family split apart. Whose love is evident by their dedication to see each other, despite hardships and circumstances keeping them apart.”
Her brother’s brow rose slightly. “Anybody we know?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I just met them today.” She swallowed again and smiled at Mom, effectively avoiding eye contact with Rafe. “I have to call them tomorrow to set up the first interview.”
“First interview?” His mother asked. “Will it be a series?”
“I hope so.” Riley answered Mom, but her eyes locked on her brother.
“What are their extenuating circumstances?” Rafe asked.
Riley swallowed yet again. “The husband, a father of two, is in prison.”
Mom glanced at Rafe, took in the red darkening his cheeks, and stood. “Goodness, Emily should be here. Let me give her cell a ring and see if she’s on her way.” She headed into the kitchen, leaving them alone with the heavy silence.
Hayden could only wish he had a legitimate reason to excuse himself without being obvious.
“You went today, didn’t you?” Rafe’s voice, while low, thundered.
Riley squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “It’s not really any of your business if I went.”
Rafe shot to his feet, hands curled into fists at his side. “I told you not to.”
Hayden tensed, sitting on the edge of his chair. What were they talking about? It was none of his business, but the urge to shelter this young woman he’d just met nearly overwhelmed him.
“I don’t care. I’m an adult and can do as I please.”
It was like hearing Emily’s voice coming out of Riley’s mouth. Hayden’s chest tightened. For Rafe or for Riley, he didn’t know which at this point.
“Why, Ri?” Rafe dropped to the seat beside his sister. “Why would you do this to yourself?”
“Do you know he has someone who claims to be his fiancée? Some woman actually sat there and said she was going to marry him when he was released.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“What?” Rafe’s stiffness disappeared.
Hayden clenched and unclenched his hands. Every gesture, every movement, every indication of Riley screamed of her pain and outrage. He wanted to shield her from this agony. His gaze snagged Remington’s, and she gave a slight shake of her head.
“Yeah. Some woman came with Alicia—she could barely speak English—and she told them she was going to marry him.” She blinked back tears. “Everyone could tell it was a lie . . . a farce . . . something to help get him out, but Mr. Patterson thinks it could sway the board members.”
“No.” Rafe shook his head.
Riley nodded, taking her brother’s hand. “So we have to really be good in our statements on Monday. Otherwise, there’s a good chance he’ll get out on parole.”
Hayden tensed his muscles. Now it all made sense.
Mom swept back into the room before Rafe could respond. “Emily won’t be joining us this evening after all.”
Hayden stood and studied her expression. “Everything okay?”
Mom forced a smile. “She didn’t answer her cell, but her roommate said they had already made plans for this evening. She must have gotten the days wrong.”
No, it meant she blew them off. Not that Hayden minded, one family drama was enough, but it hurt Mom. Despite his angst over her secret keeping, he hated Mom to be hurt. He pulled her into a hug. “That means more gumbo for me.” He locked stares with Remington.
She stood as well. “No, it means more for me. I get Emily’s share.” Remington maneuvered around the coffee table and threw a mock punch at his shoulder. “You get Ardy’s cooking all the time. I don’t.”
Mom’s tautness across the shoulders eased.
“So?” He smiled at Remington.
“So I get the extra portions, not you.” She turned and held out her hand to Rafe. “Come on, you two. You do not want to miss Ardy’s gumbo.”
Rafe and his sister both stood but still remained quiet.
Happy again, his mother rushed into the kitchen to serve up gumbo into bowls.
“Thanks,” he whispered to Remington.
“No problem,” she whispered back before pulling Rafe and Riley toward the table. “It’ll be okay, guys.”
After witnessing the strain on both the Baxters’ faces, Hayden prayed she was right.
His cell phone rang just as he sat down. He snatched his cell from his belt. “Hayden Simpson.”
“Hayden, we have an issue.”
Even before Officer Bob Travis could give details, Hayden knew it was about Emily. “What?”
“She’s okay. It’s your sister.” Heavy breathing echoed over the connection. “She’s been in an, uh, accident. Of sorts.”
Hayden cut his gaze to his mother, who thankfully was still occupied with serving up bowls of gumbo. “Details?”
“It appears she stood in front of a car and refused to move.”
Of all the stupid—“And?”
“Well, the driver got out and they had . . . um, words.”
He closed his eyes, too easy for him to imagine what had gone on from there. Emily’s irrationality. Her accusations. Her misplaced anger. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He pushed back his chair and stood.
“Hayden, there’s more.”
Great. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. The person she got into it with is Caleb Montgomery.”
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse. His sister had to pick the one person in Hopewell who wanted Hayden removed from his position to get into a public argument with.
“He’s saying she not only verbally assaulted him, but physically too, and he wants to press charges.”
And the blows just kept on coming. “On my way.”
His mother stood at his side. “Hayden?”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Duty beckons, Mom. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” If he didn’t get charged with strangling his little sister.
“I hope it’s nothing serious.” She set down the ladle.
“No, nothing too serious. Just something that needs my attention.”
Remington made eye contact across the table. Her expression let him know she had an idea what the call was about. Shouldn’t be too hard, really, since it seemed it was always about Emily these days.
“Ah.” Mom beamed toward Riley. “My son’s the police commissioner. Sometimes, they just need his approval on some things.”
He gave a casual shrug as he pushed his chair under the table. “Please excuse me,” he directed to Riley, then included everyone in his forced smile. “I hope I won’t be gone long.”
But when it involved Emily, it usually took forever to unravel her tangle of lies.
Hayden ran through a million mental scenarios on his drive into the station, but it was no use. Until he got the details, trying to guess what happened was useless.
Three miles later, and Hayden pulled into the police station’s lot. He parked, then hustled in the back door. If he could be briefed before seeing Emily or Caleb . . .
“Hayden.” Bob Travis stood waiting in the hall. “Sorry to interrupt your long weekend off.”
“No problem.” And it wasn’t Bob’s problem. It was his. Emily had been his problem ever since their father died. Well, her father, but that was beside the point. “Fill me in.”
“Mr. Montgomery says he had stopped by the grocery store to pick up milk on his way home from work. When he exited the store, he claims he saw Emily at his car. He states he approached her to deter her from vandalizing his personal property, as she has a record of such. At that time, he alleges Emily verbally assaulted him. He said when he tried to move past her to get into his vehicle, she hit him. He wants to press charges against her.” Bob’s face was already red as he shrugged. “And he says she owes him a gallon of milk since his is still in his car sitting out in front of the station.”
Why couldn’t anything with Emily be cut and dried? “What does Emily say in her defense?”
“She says she went to the grocery store on her way to visit a friend. She claims when she tried to pull into a parking space on the front row, she couldn’t because a car had taken two spaces. She says she parked farther down, and when she walked by the car taking two spaces, she was writing a note to leave for the driver, asking him to be a little more careful in parking so someone else could park in the front row too.”
Hayden understood—it irritated him when people were selfish and parked over the lines.
“Emily said that’s what she was doing when Mr. Montgomery came out of the store, just leaving a note. She says he approached her and began yelling at her to get away from his car.” Bob rubbed his brow. “Best I can make of it, they had words, ending with him saying something along the lines that just because her brother is the police commissioner, doesn’t mean she can do whatever she wants and that he wouldn’t rest until she and her illegitimate brother were nothing in this town.” Bob ducked his head. “And that, according to her, is when she slapped his face.”
For once, Hayden’s chest swelled with pride. Not that he could tell Emily, at least not here or in front of anyone, but bailing her out of trouble this time would be his pleasure.
He only regretted he hadn’t been able to see Caleb’s face when she smacked him.
Chapter Four
“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!”
AMOS 5:24
“Thank you so much for allowing me into your home, Mrs. Wilson.” Riley had her notebook and recorder in her arms as she sat on the couch where directed. She could imagine the setup was the same as if her hero, Diane Sawyer, were conducting the interview. “Especially on a Saturday.”
“It’s Peggy, and you’re welcome. I didn’t have much of a choice.” The woman sat on the chair across the living room. Weariness, not makeup, creased in the crow’s feet of her eyes.
“Oh?” Riley settled into her seat, arranging her recorder on the coffee table. She tried not to take in the worn carpet, the cheap paneling that peeled, or the pockmarks in the linoleum. Breathing space was a commodity in the mobile home. While awful, it would tug at readers’ hearts.
“Jasmine is determined that we talk to you. I’ll be honest . . . I don’t think this is the best of ideas, but she is convinced you can help her daddy.” Peggy’s back was straight, her shoulders squared. “I told her you weren’t interested in that kind of story, but she’s insistent. I had to send her to the library or she’d have been sitting right here with us.” She smiled. “If you take the time to get to know her a little, you’ll understand she can be quite persuasive.”
One of the traits Riley had recognized in the teen. She, too, had been called persuasive more than a time or two in her youth. Well, even more recently than that. Either way, she was drawn to Jasmine and would do what she could. “She’s quite something.”
“She is that.” Peggy relaxed, leaning back in the chair. “So, what do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you tell me a little about your family. How you and your husband met, how long you’ve been married . . . things like that.”
“Why, Armand was my high-school sweetheart. We met our freshman year at Central High. He was an amazing young man and just swept me off my feet the first time he spoke to me during orientation.”
Riley struggled not to allow herself to get too excited. High-school sweethearts—this was perfect story material, even if it came straight out of a fairy tale.
“We went on our first date that weekend and were inseparable after that.” Peggy’s eyes glazed over. “We got married the summer after we graduated. Armand looked so handsome. I felt like the luckiest woman alive.”
Riley’s throat grew tight. What would it be like to love someone like that and have them love you back in the same way?
“Two years later, Jasmine was born. My, but Armand cried like a baby the first time he held her. And then we had trouble getting pregnant again.” Tears filled the woman’s eyes. “You see, both Armand and I wanted a big family with at least four or five children. But the good Lord had other plans. I didn’t even know it until we couldn’t get pregnant for a couple of years and I went to the doctor, but I have endometriosis. Doctor said I shouldn’t have even been able to get pregnant with Jasmine, and chances of ever getting pregnant again were slim to none.”
This story just kept getting better and better—not for Peggy, of course, but for Riley’s proposed series. She could already see it: high-school sweethearts, battles with infertility, then the incarceration and poverty for the left-behind wife and children. Yet a twinge of guilt shoved against Riley. To what length would she go in exploiting this woman’s pain for her own personal gain? She chewed her bottom lip. She’d have to think about that. Later.
“But again, God had His plans, and nine years later we had Mikey.” Peggy shook her head, not even bothering to try to hide the tears in her eyes. “Armand cried even harder the first time he held his son. And also because the doctor had to do an emergency hysterectomy right then or I could have died right there in delivery.”
Mouth dry, Riley scribbled notes as fast as she could, thankful the recorder would pick up the tremble in Mrs. Wilson’s voice.
“God was good and laid His healing hand on me. I was fine, and we had a healthy daughter and son. Armand said all the time that he was truly a blessed man. I loved him for that and for givin
g up his dream to have a big family.”
A knot formed in Riley’s stomach. She’d never dated someone who was selfless to the point of giving up his dream for love. What did that feel like?
“Our marriage is a good one, Ms. Baxter. Even now, with him in prison almost a year now. I love Armand with all my heart. And I’m faithful.”
“Please, call me Riley.” Her hand shook as she made a notation. She had to push away emotions. As Jeremy reminded her relentlessly, professional journalists kept an emotional distance from their story subjects. She gripped the pen tighter. “So, tell me why your husband’s in prison.”
Despite her determination to squelch her feelings, Riley just couldn’t imagine a man so in love with his family deliberately doing anything that could cause him to lose them.
“Armand wanted to be on the police force but couldn’t ever get accepted into the academy.” Peggy narrowed her eyes. “He’s a good man: kind, gentle, and loving, but he isn’t a brainiac. And that entry exam is quite hard to pass.”
“So I’ve heard.” Riley made a note not to mention her brother was an FBI agent. Probably wouldn’t go over well . . . for a number of reasons.
“He’s a noble and proud man. After several years of working for a security company in their maintenance department, he finally asked his boss about training to become a security officer. They talked and the company helped him take the necessary classes and get certified with his gun.”
“So, he was a security officer?”
“Yes. He stayed at the security company for about three years after becoming a security officer, until the owner of the company sold it and moved out of state.”
“What did your husband do then?”
“He went to work as a security guard for the Louisiana State Museum.”
Interesting twist. Broadened the scope of the target audience.
Peggy sat straight, nearly on the edge of the chair. “He’d been working there for about eight years. They’d promoted him several times. First from night shift to day. Then from a regular guard to a supervisor. Then to assisting with private collections and special exhibits. He loved his job and was good at it. Always made perfect marks on his reviews.”
