The defense attorney paused and looked at her, then pulled his reading glasses off his nose and twirled them in his hand. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
“You’re an attorney. A public defender. And you want us to believe you don’t know?”
“Yes. I’m not prosecuting this matter.”
He smirked at her, and she wanted to knock the expression off his overweight face.
“You want this court to allow the criminal charges to proceed without any evidence to support your allegations?”
“Yes. I want my uncle to be held accountable for the great evil he did to me.”
“I see. It’s all about revenge.”
She bit her tongue so hard she tasted copper. She would not give the man the satisfaction of talking without a question. She was too disciplined for that.
The man glanced at her uncle, but she did not follow his gaze. Instead, she wished she could glance at Chandler again, longing for his steadying gaze.
Her edges were fraying. What was it Caroline had asked her to do? Pray? She still didn’t believe God would listen, but she needed help to hold it together. God, if You care, I need to know You’re real. Right now. The words landed with a thud in her mind.
The defense counsel asked additional questions, forcing her to walk through part of the horror, and she wished her parents hadn’t come. She’d wanted to spare them as much of the reality as she could, but as she gave her answers, they heard every word. So did Chandler. This would be the last time she saw him . . . unless all that interested him was a physical relationship.
The man finally looked down at his list of questions and decided he was done. “No more questions.”
“You may step down.”
Such relief coursed through Jaime at the judge’s words, she could barely stand. However, she forced her legs to cooperate and wobbled to the prosecution’s table, grateful she’d worn sensible flats. She caught her father’s grim look and her mother’s shattered one.
They needed to know she didn’t blame them anymore. They hadn’t known back then, and now that they understood, the bro-kenness was etched into the lines on their faces.
She sank into the chair, and Mitch slid her a note.
Now it’s up to the judge.
Either the judge would allow the case to proceed to grand jury, or she wouldn’t.
The woman stared at her notes in silence for a minute, then pulled her glasses off and looked at Mitch. “I find that sufficient testimony was presented to reach the standard of probable cause. This case can proceed to grand jury.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Jaime exhaled, then froze as Mitch tapped her arm.
“The grand jury hearing will take place on Friday. I’ll need you there at nine.”
“I’ll be there.” She didn’t look at her uncle. She didn’t want to see his reaction, not when he’d been so smug that his expensive lawyer would make it all go away.
The stakes were high for him. Depending on how the case proceeded, it could affect his security clearance and his promotion, might even lead to a dishonorable discharge. Would he let Lady Justice take her course?
And what would he do to her?
What could be worse than what he’d done twenty years ago? But he was a man with power . . . which would only expand if he survived the senate subcommittee hearings.
CHAPTER 22
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10
The words and images of the last hour rolled over Chandler in a kaleidoscope of pain and anger. Now he understood the odd vibe he’d felt from Jaime—and why Daniels, McCarthy & Associates had asked her to consult in Tiffany’s case. He sat bolted in place as Dane Nichols exchanged angry words with his attorney and then strode from the room. The man was clearly upset, but not as volcanic as Chandler felt. What he wouldn’t give to have ten minutes alone with the general wannabe.
That man represented everything that was wrong with the current military. If what Jaime said was true. As he’d watched her testify, he couldn’t doubt the horror was real.
How hard had it been for her to sit and listen to Tiffany’s story Monday?
He studied this woman he was beginning to care about and acknowledged a deep-seated need to do something to help. The question was what. The image of Tiffany with Aslan flashed through his mind. If his dog has been such a help to the little girl, could he play a similar role with Jaime? Seemed reasonable, except she seemed determined to push the animal away.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tugged it out.
Can Aslan come over?
The number was Madeline Ange’s, but the accompanying emoji made him suspect Tiffany had grabbed her mom’s phone. He’d confirm as soon as he left the court . . . but shouldn’t the girl be in school? Maybe he’d need to use a few vacation days to help her. It would make HR happy to have them used.
Jaime eased toward him, looking tentative, and he schooled his features to the neutral expression he would use with a client. A strand of hair had fallen in her face, begging for him to reach out and move it. One glance at her father, who looked ready to break someone in two with his bare fists, was enough to squelch that instinct.
“What are you doing here?” Her words sounded hurt—not what he’d expected.
“I didn’t want you to be alone, whatever it was you were facing.”
“I wasn’t.” She gestured toward her parents, who were looking between them.
The mother, an older version of Jaime, stepped forward. “I’m Joann, and this is my husband, Bill. You are?”
“Chandler Bolton.” He opened his mouth to say more, but Jaime spoke over him.
“His dog tried to kill Simba.”
“Oh.” A frown spread across the woman’s face. “Why did you come today?”
“Because he doesn’t know when he’s not wanted.” There was so much hurt in Jaime’s voice he regretted his ill-conceived idea to attend.
“I didn’t know exactly what this was for. I just knew Jaime was stressed and shouldn’t be alone.” He swallowed. “No one should be alone at a time like this.”
The bailiff approached them with a frown. “Y’all will have to leave. There’s another hearing scheduled.”
“Thank you.” Jaime led the way into the hallway. She looked as though she had more to say, but Chandler pulled out his phone.
“If you’ll excuse me a minute, I received a text while in there that I need to follow up.”
That would give them a moment to collect themselves. There was so much tension in Jaime’s parents; the guilt rolled off them in waves.
Maybe she needed a distraction. Maybe helping Tiffany would give Jaime a sense of empowerment and purpose that she needed after such a gut-wrenching experience as the hearing. When he’d finished texting a quick message back to Madeline and Tiffany about needing to check his schedule before committing, Jaime was still talking with her parents.
He tapped her shoulder, and she jumped. “Sorry about that. Tiffany wants to see Aslan, and I wondered if you’d like to come.”
“Why?”
“Because Tiffany needs someone who understands.”
Chandler’s words from the courthouse rang in Jaime’s ears as she parked her car where he had suggested.
Oh, she hated that he thought he knew her story. There was so much she hadn’t said on the stand. And why had he asked for her help? Did he think she didn’t know exactly what he was doing? She wasn’t one of his clients.
The sun broke through the clouds and added a hint of warmth to the afternoon as Jaime walked toward the park. She wanted to turn her face to the sky and let it warm her to her core, but nothing could do that.
In the distance she spotted Aslan waiting next to a bench. She blew out a breath. God, if You’re real, I could use some help so I can reach this little girl. I don’t want her to feel alone like I did. Like she still did.
The quick prayer froze her.
She could not believe in a God who had allowed s
uch evil to happen to a child.
She could not.
She closed her eyes as if to block the thoughts, and when she opened them she saw Tiffany curled up next to Aslan. Madeline huddled a short distance away, observing everything. Chandler was nowhere in sight.
“Thanks for coming.” Madeline’s teeth chattered.
“Today was a good day for it.” Jaime kept her gaze on Tiffany and Aslan. The dog stood patiently, leaning slightly into the girl’s leg.
“It is a great day to be at the park.” Madeline nodded toward her daughter. “Aslan works magic on Tiffany. I’d buy him if I could, but Chandler won’t let me.”
“I’m sure Chandler doesn’t want to sell his friend.” The two had a relationship that seemed even tighter than the one she shared with Simba.
“You can’t blame a desperate mother for asking.” Madeline brushed her blond hair behind her ears. “It’s hard to be everything Tiffany needs. I’ll have to get back to work soon, and that’s not possible when she remains this worked up.”
“She has reason.” Jaime remembered all too well the fear that had followed her each time her mother left the room, let alone dropped her somewhere. “Has the prosecutor located her abuser?”
Madeline grunted. “Nothing about this process has been what I would have expected. The police and prosecutors are kind, but there is so little they can do. My former boyfriend is walking around somewhere, and I can’t promise Tiffany she’s safe.” She wiped her eyes. “If I’d never met the man, she’d still be innocent. This has confirmed the terrible instincts I have regarding men.”
“You have to focus on doing exactly what she needs to find wholeness.” Jaime edged forward, and Aslan turned his ears as if listening to her progress. He was attuned to her as she inched nearer. “Hi, Tiffany. I’m Jaime Nichols, a friend of your mom’s and Aslan’s.”
The young girl turned to her with a solemn expression and old eyes. “Hello, Ms. Jaime.”
“What are you and Aslan doing?”
“Sitting.”
“Does he like it?”
“He likes me, so he does what I want to do.”
Jaime eased onto the ground next to the girl, leaves crunching beneath her as she sank to the cold earth. “It must be nice to have someone who likes you because you’re you.”
“Do you?” The question was matched with the gaze of a girl who’d seen too much.
“Yes.” Jaime clasped her hands on her knees. “I know how important that is. When I was your age, a man wasn’t nice to me either. He did things he shouldn’t have, and I wished for a friend like Aslan who would listen to everything I said until I ran out of words.”
“And then he stays.” The words were a whisper.
“Exactly.” Jaime forced a small smile. “I wish I’d had that.”
“He helps me feel safe.” A grin burbled to the surface. “He doesn’t interrupt me with questions.”
Jaime laughed. “I’m sure he doesn’t. Where’s Mr. Chandler?”
“On his phone. It’s okay as long as he lets Aslan come.” There was such quiet confidence in the sentence.
Jaime bit back a flush of emotion. She was glad Tiffany was getting the help she needed. Chandler seemed to have a knight-in-shining-armor side—rearranging his life to show up at court hearings and parks. Just because no one should be alone. He’d said his job wanted him to use up his vacation time, but still . . . It took a special person to spend it getting involved in other people’s messes.
It didn’t matter how wonderful he appeared. She had to remember he was perfect for someone else, not for her.
Wasn’t that the lesson she’d learned in high school and college? That she was death to any relationship? That the part of her that was supposed to welcome companionship and love was broken? She either demanded too much or not enough, so she’d decided to look for neither. “Is it okay if I talk to your mommy a minute?”
Tiffany shrugged and went back to petting the very patient dog.
Jaime stood and brushed off her jeans before turning her attention to Madeline, who sat on the bench a few feet behind her daughter. “How is her counseling going?”
Madeline shrugged. “It’s barely had time to start. She’s seeing two counselors though. With the play therapist, it’s almost impossible to tell what’s accomplished. Tiffany is eight. It seems like they should be talking or something.”
“I don’t know much about play therapy.” Jaime wanted to be careful not to say too much about something she didn’t understand. “What about her other counselor?”
“Tiffany gets so upset every time, it takes several hours to calm her down. This is not my girl. She’s always been so sweet, and I don’t know what to do.”
Tiffany chose that moment to swivel around and look at her mother—who quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced a smile.
Jaime wasn’t the girl’s mother, but she knew she couldn’t walk away without helping the child, even if it meant more time with the intriguing Chandler Bolton. She’d have to find a way to guard her heart while making sure Tiffany found justice. Just as she was seeking with Dane.
CHAPTER 23
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10
Chandler turned back toward the park. Returning calls had been a good way to maintain a professional distance and give Tiffany and Madeline space until Jaime arrived. He was happy to loan them Aslan from time to time, but he had to maintain his responsibilities at work too.
He slowed as he crested a slight rise. Tiffany was crouched on the ground talking with Aslan. Madeline and Jaime stood a few feet from them, a study in contrasts. Delicate, blond Madeline, awkwardly chewing a fingernail while her shoulders were bowed, and tall, authoritative Jaime, who stood like she’d defend Tiffany from anyone who would hurt her.
There was something about Jaime’s brooding intensity that drew him like gravity tugged at the leaves. He was certain if he gave in to the attraction it wouldn’t be a delicate dance of wind and petals, but a collision of fire and ice.
Could he risk it?
He’d lived through the painful destruction of his marriage and finally found himself on the other side, scarred but ready to move on. A relationship with someone like Jaime would take a strong man. One willing to risk everything for a possibility.
After what he’d learned in court, and Jaime’s reaction to his knowing . . . he must be crazy.
Still, gravity and the hill drew him toward her. Aslan’s ears swiveled to follow his movement, but the dog stayed firmly in place beside Tiffany. Chandler saw Madeline swipe at her cheeks, and he frowned. He didn’t tolerate tears well. At all, really.
What had made her cry?
Jaime was intense, but he’d never seen one unkind act on her part, nothing thoughtless or cruel. In fact, as he walked toward them she moved closer to Madeline.
Her gaze locked on him. “Chandler.”
“Hi, Jaime, Madeline. How’s Tiffany doing?”
Madeline sniffed but kept her gaze on her daughter. “She’s better. The visit with Aslan helps.” She turned and looked at him with weepy eyes. “Thank you.”
“I’m just the driver.”
“Of a very well-trained dog who is saving my girl.” Madeline sighed, but a soft smile touched her face. “Thank you for taking the time off.”
He shrugged. “Today worked.” He nudged Jaime. “What do you think? You heard what she called Aslan?”
“You might want to reconsider ‘well-trained.’” Jaime crossed her arms.
It didn’t take an EQ specialist to know she’d taken his bait. “That was a onetime lapse in judgment.”
She didn’t match his lighthearted jest. Instead, she met his gaze steadily, and he felt as though she were assessing him and finding him lacking. “It only takes one moment to destroy a life.”
They were no longer talking about Simba. He glanced back at Tiffany. “You’re right.”
Jaime walked to the nearby picnic table and, ignoring the benches, sat on the table ins
tead. He could sympathize with the awkwardness of folding long legs into a small space.
He followed and sat next to her, leaving Madeline to focus on her daughter. “You okay?”
Jaime kept her back perfectly straight. “I learned a long time ago it wasn’t about me. Life is about how we serve others. That’s why I’m here right now.”
“It’s never about you?”
She looked at him. “When you experience the things I have, there are two options. You can be swallowed by the events or you can decide to move beyond them. For a long time, the only way I could survive was to pretend they didn’t happen. Now I try to right wrongs for others. I don’t want Tiffany to wait a lifetime. I will do everything I can to give her a voice against her abuser, and if that means using your mangy dog, then I will.”
“Jaime, would you trust me with your whole story?”
She snorted, an unladylike noise. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve done nothing to earn it.”
“I’m here helping Tiffany.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure your dog is helping her. You’re just annoying me.”
He placed his hands over his heart and leaned back. “You wound me.”
“Whatever.” A movement flickered at the corner of her lips.
He dragged his gaze back to her eyes. “I’m safe, Jaime.”
This time she turned to face him completely. “No man is safe. And to quote one of my favorite movies, ‘You couldn’t handle the truth.’”
He wanted to argue that she should let him decide. But as her gaze returned to the duo on the edge of the playground, he realized she might be right.
Maybe the demons plaguing Jaime were best left unknown.
A few minutes later Jaime made her good-byes and drove off, desperate to get away from Chandler. His rock-solid calm would wear her down if she spent too much time near him. It didn’t help that she felt a flicker of peace when he was around, as though she knew he would never intentionally hurt her.
As she switched lanes, she noticed a vehicle a couple cars behind do the same. No big deal. In the growing traffic, it was hard to see many details. But she continued to glance in the rearview mirror and keep an eye on the large SUV. It wasn’t a Hummer, but nearly that size. Maybe she should pay attention.
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