A Shot at Redemption

by Liz Bradford

  Patrick’s pacing was interrupted by Adam coming down the hall. Gavin couldn’t hear him, but Adam said something to Patrick, who turned and took a few steps toward Adam. Gavin took the opportunity to go through the door.

  Despite the redness of Patrick’s neck, his voice was steady. “I just need to talk to her for a minute.”

  Adam’s voice was tight. “I take it the court clerk found you this morning.”

  “Let me see her now!”

  The door opened behind Gavin. “Fine, I’m here.”

  Gavin instinctively took a step forward to keep himself between Jocelyn and Patrick. He would never have done that in the past, even after the time he had watched Patrick shove Jocelyn across the living room. But it was different now. Everything was different now.

  Adam stepped up beside Patrick, clearly ready to cuff him should he even breathe the wrong way. “You shouldn’t have come out here, Jocelyn.”

  “He has a right to talk to me about it, though. The least I can do is give him five minutes.”

  Patrick huffed in satisfaction. “There. Now get lost.”

  Adam lifted his hand in front of Patrick. “Not a chance. Riley and I aren’t leaving. After what you did to Jocelyn on Thursday, you’re lucky I don’t break your leg.”

  Patrick squared his shoulders with Adam and puffed up his chest as if he was trying to negate the three-inch height advantage Adam had. “You as much as lay a finger on me, and I’ll snap you like a twig.”

  “Guys!” Jocelyn yelled. They all turned and looked at her. “Patrick, if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I’m going back to work, and you’ll just have to wait until court.”

  “Don’t you talk to me like that, you little brat! I’ve got plenty to say. First of all, what the heck is with having me served divorce papers and a restraining order in the middle of my shift debriefing this morning? Poor taste, you stupid whore.”

  Gavin froze. Divorce papers. That had to be what Adam was alluding to earlier. His gut twisted at the thought that he was a contributing factor in the ending of his friends’ marriage. A marriage that had already been failing, but he hadn’t helped any. There was also a slight spark of hope, which instantly made his insides wrench up even tighter.

  “I’m sorry they served you at roll call. That was never my intent.”

  “Right.” Disdain seeped from Patrick’s voice. “But divorce. Really? I thought you were going to fix this.”

  “No!” Jocelyn hollered. “I’m never going to get an abortion. If you think I would, you’re out of your mind.”

  “Fine, then. I’ll see you in court.” Patrick turned sharply and stomped out.

  As soon as Patrick was out of sight, Gavin relaxed his shoulders. Adam visibly relaxed too, but Jocelyn was shaking. If Adam hadn’t been there…

  Adam put a hand on Jocelyn’s shoulder. “That went better than I expected. You okay?”

  She fell into Adam’s arms. Gavin’s ribs felt like they were going to squeeze the life out of him. He wanted to be the one to hold her. You have no right, Riley! He squashed the jealousy and tried to switch his brain to being grateful that she had support from others.

  “Thanks.” Jocelyn stepped back. “I have work to do.”

  Her eyes locked with Gavin’s and lingered for a moment. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to stay with her, make sure she was truly okay. Her hand tapped his elbow before she turned and swiped her card and let herself back into the lab. His elbow tingled as he watched her disappear behind the door. He knew Adam was there, watching him, but he couldn’t pull his eyes, or his heart, away.

  He turned toward Adam. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Jocelyn was the woman I was talking about on Thursday.”

  Adam crossed his arms. “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Like I told her, I’m not an idiot.” He clapped his hand on Gavin’s shoulder and added in a hushed voice that Gavin could barely hear, “Even if other people are.”

  “What was that?”

  Adam gave Gavin’s shoulder a slight shove toward the stairs. “Never mind. Let’s get back to work.”

  “You aren’t mad at me? I know you’re pretty protective of her.”

  “Listen, man, you’re right—I am protective of her. And you screwed up. But what right do I have to be mad at you? I saw it happening and didn’t say anything. I’m sorry for that.”

  Gavin rubbed the back of his neck. “I think we’ve all seen things happening but didn’t say anything. I know I wish I had said something about Patrick years ago.”

  “You aren’t the only one.”

  Gavin stopped walking and turned toward Adam. “Do you think he’ll leave her alone?”

  “I wish, but no. This is far from over.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jocelyn pushed her office door shut behind her and went straight to her desk. She was barely maintaining any composure, but she had to pull herself together. She had work to do. She dropped into her chair, folded her arms on her desk, and leaned her head down. Her lungs fought to get air in as the weight of the reality of her life—the affair, divorce, and being a single mom—all came crashing down on her. Hot tears soaked her sleeves as her chest heaved. How was she supposed to go on? How was she going to do this?

  Everything was falling apart. Not just her marriage, but her emotional stability was crumbling too.

  God, what am I supposed to do now? I can’t do this. I can’t handle it. Help!

  She lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face. She plucked a tissue from the box on her desk. Then she reached into her tote and pulled out her Bible. She had been staring at it for the last three days, wanting to open it but unsure where to turn. She wished she could flip it open and point to a passage and hope it would minister to her. But she knew the Bible didn’t work like some magic eight ball. She also knew God’s word was living and active. God could speak right off the pages and hit her directly where she needed it.

  What should I read? What’s that passage where David deals with his sin? She searched her brain trying to remember. It was a Psalm, she knew that much. She opened the brown, leather-bound book to the center and flipped a few pages. She had marked that Psalm a few years ago when she read through the whole book.

  She found it—Psalm 51.

  “Have mercy on me, O God, because of your unfailing love… Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Oh, give me back my joy again; you have broken me—now let me rejoice… Create in me a clean heart, O God…”

  This is my prayer, Lord. Bring joy back into my life and sustain me the way only You can.

  On the opposite page she read Psalm 54. “But God is my helper. The Lord keeps me alive!…For you have rescued me from my troubles and helped me to triumph over my enemies.”

  I’m not sure who my enemies are. Patrick? The devil, obviously. But, Father, I know You can triumph over the guilt and depression I’m feeling right now.

  She refolded her arms and put her head back down. She let the Spirit of God fall fresh on her soul. He was holding her. She needed to lean in and let Him. Jesus loved her, no matter what she had done. He always had and would continue to forever. The tears dried up as she let herself nod off.

  A knock on the door roused her from her rest. Shoot! How long did I sleep? She sat up and wiped her face. A glance at the clock revealed she’d slept for an hour. Yikes! “Come in.”

  The door eased open and revealed Gavin. He was biting his lip that was slightly raised in a smile. “Hey. I ran out for shakes and got you one. Hope that’s okay.”

  She smiled. Tears threatened to form in her throat, but she sniffed them away. He had no idea what that meant to her. “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Hope mint chocolate chip is still your favorite.”

  “But of course.”

  He held out the large, green shake from the l
ocal ice cream shop.

  She walked over and took it from his hand. “Thanks. This is what I needed.”

  “Are you all right? I feel weird, like I shouldn’t ask and should mind my own business, but I can’t help it.”

  “It’s okay. You can ask. We’ve been friends forever.”

  “Yeah.”

  Silence fell between them, and her chest grew tighter and tighter. Why was it so hard to talk to him now? This was the man she had bared her soul to time and time again over the last fifteen years or so. The one who showed her who God was and how to trust Him through grief. God, I need to tell Gavin about the baby. Is now the time?

  His voice broke into her thoughts. “You didn’t answer the question, though. I guess it’s a stupid question. Of course you aren’t okay…”

  She shrugged and took a sip of her milkshake. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. I’m a hot mess right now.”

  “Looks like your cheek is healing nicely.” He raised his hand toward her face but quickly dropped it again.

  “It feels a lot better today. My back is still sore, and a nasty shade of purple and green.” The intensity of concern in Gavin’s eyes made her smile. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve got some rough waters to wade through with divorcing Patrick, but it’s the only option at this point.”

  “I thought you two were trying to work things out.”

  She sighed. Lips pursed and eyes shut. She tried to gain the strength to tell Gavin the truth.

  Before she found the courage, he continued. “But I don’t understand him at all right now. Why on earth would he want you to have an abortion?”

  Jocelyn met his eyes. “Well… that’s—”

  A knock sounded on the door frame behind Gavin. Jocelyn stepped to the side and looked around Gavin to find one of the lab techs.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but Jocelyn, we’ve got a crime scene.”

  “Homicide?” Gavin asked.

  “No, assault. I’ll be in the van.”

  Jocelyn sighed. The truth would have to wait a little longer. “Okay, be there in a minute.” She looked back at Gavin. “Sorry. But thanks for the milkshake. Makes my day.”

  His crooked grin spread across his face. “You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you later.”

  As he left, she took a stabilizing breath. If she didn’t have to go to a crime scene, she’d start crying all over again. These pregnancy hormones were turning her into a weepy mess. She wanted to fall into Gavin’s arms and let him sooth away her anxiety. Why did her emotions have to run so deep for this man she couldn’t have?

  After climbing out of the van and slipping into her CSU jacket, Jocelyn approached the area along the side of the road in a nice, older part of town, where several uniformed officers spread the crime scene tape. She went about her normal process and took photos of just about everything, starting with the big picture and working her way to the tiny details. While she was taking pictures of the scene as a whole, Adam and Amelia arrived and immediately started talking to the victim.

  Shooting a crime scene with a live victim was so much different than a homicide. In a case like this she needed to be conscientious of the victim’s emotional state, whereas with a homicide she had to worry about running into Gavin. Why did her thoughts always turn to him?

  “Jocelyn.” Adam approached.

  “Hey.” She stood from taking a photo of an impression in the dirt along the edge of the sidewalk.

  “The victim is ready for you.” Adam reached for her bag.

  She handed it to him. “Sure thing.” She followed Adam to where the lady was sitting in the back of an ambulance. “Hi, I’m Jocelyn. Detective Jamison said you’re ready for me to take a few photos of your injuries.”

  The woman, who was in her early thirties, agreed. Her eyes were wide and swollen, especially her left eye, where a bruise was beginning to form. Jocelyn adjusted the settings on her camera for the bright florescence in the bus and started taking pictures while Amelia continued her interview.

  “He just came out of nowhere,” the woman said. “It’s all a blur. I’m not even sure what happened.”

  Amelia’s voice was soft. “I understand, Peggy. Just tell us what you do remember. Sometimes it comes back as you talk about it.”

  “Well, he pushed me first. Came up behind me and just shoved me. I almost lost my footing but gained it back quickly. I guess I turned. Didn’t even think about it. I wanted to fight him off, but he punched me. That’s when I knew the only thing that mattered was keeping my baby safe.”

  Jocelyn stopped taking photos. She was pregnant.

  The woman turned to Jocelyn. Their eyes connected. Peggy’s eyes softened as the fear became empathy. “You’re pregnant too?”

  Jocelyn nodded.

  “Did the same guy hit you?”

  Jocelyn froze. Her voice barely made it over a whisper. “No. I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”

  “How did you get that black eye?”

  “My husband.”

  “Oh, my.” Peggy’s hand flew to her mouth.

  How was she supposed to respond? “I understand exactly what you’re saying about keeping the baby safe. All I could think was keeping the baby away from his hands and fists. Do you know who did this to you?”

  Peggy shook her head. “No idea. He didn’t seem familiar at all. Only thing I know is he was white. Dark hair, maybe—at least his arm hair was. Couldn’t get a good look at his face. He had a black hoodie with the hood pulled up.”

  Amelia asked, “How tall do you think he was and what kind of build?”

  “I’d guess he was just under six foot, average build. Oh, and he smelled like cigarettes.”

  Jocelyn’s heart sank. How horrible it must be to not know who hurt you. It was hard enough knowing who it was and that you deserved it.

  “What happened after he punched you?” Amelia asked.

  “Well, I tried to run, but he grabbed me and threw me to the ground. He bent down over me and punched me again. He called me some awful names. That’s when another man ran out of the house, yelling at him. He took off. And it was over.”

  They finished up with Peggy, and the ambulance took her to the hospital.

  Jocelyn turned to Amelia and Adam, who had rejoined them after interviewing the man who came to Peggy’s rescue. “Why would someone start beating up a pregnant woman at random?”

  Amelia said, “It’s crazy. Almost as insane as what happened to you. I still can’t believe Patrick would do this to his own wife and child.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes met Adam’s. Her stomach was queasy at the thought of telling Amelia the truth.

  “Oh no. I said something stupid, didn’t I? You’d think I like the way my foot tastes for as often as I put it in my mouth.”

  Jocelyn smiled. “It’s okay. It’s just that… well, the baby isn’t Patrick’s.”

  “Oh!” Amelia’s eyes grew large. “Wait, what?” Her head tilted to the side, and she narrowed her eyes.

  “I… I had…”

  Adam cut in. “What she’s trying to say is that she found someone better but went about the relationship in the wrong order.”

  Jocelyn frowned at Adam, then clarified. “I had an affair.”

  Amelia’s eyes softened, “Oh, hun.”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but it happened.”

  “I get it, more than you know. You weren’t thinking. Thankfully, God’s mercies are new every day.” She reached forward and hugged Jocelyn.

  Jocelyn wrapped her arms around her friend and accepted the comfort and sympathy. She pulled out of the hug and release a melancholy laugh. “Well, at least you now know why Patrick would hit me. He told me to get an abortion. When I said no, he struck me. Guess I had it coming.”

  “Absolutely not. He had no right to hit you, no matter what you did. And I have a hard time believing he has been faithful to you. If you had time for an affair and felt the need to find comfort in someone else’s arms, he probably did so
too.”

  “Yeah, he did. Told me he had been with several women.”

  “At least.” Adam snorted and rolled his eyes.

  Amelia squeezed Jocelyn’s elbow. “I’m sorry, Jocelyn.”

  She rubbed her belly. She didn’t know what to say to Amelia’s sympathy.

  Amelia said, “Well, in better news, I have a box of clothes in my trunk for you. I didn’t bother putting any pants in there because they’re all petites, but I would expect everything else to fit you.”

  “Thank you so much! Yeah, my legs are definitely too long for petites.”

  “Three inches makes a difference.”

  Jocelyn smiled.

  With a folder in his hand, Gavin walked into the conference room Wednesday afternoon. He was sure he’d find Becca working on Arthur Moon’s murder case. She had insisted on handling that one when they decided to split up the workload so they could cover more ground on their three open homicides. He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe to get Becca’s attention.

  She turned. “Hey. I hope you’re making more progress than I am. The more I stare at this the more convinced I am that Arthur’s murder is connected to Tom’s.”

  “Why?” He had his doubts, especially after receiving the news the lab had given him, but wanted to hear her thoughts.

  “Look at it. Both shot in the forehead, identical part of town, wallets and valuables still on them. It’s all the same.” She twirled her hair.

  Gavin stuck his free hand in his pocket. “Except one important piece.”

  “What piece? Look. It’s all the same.” She gestured toward the whiteboard where she was comparing Tom and Arthur’s cases.

  “This piece isn’t the same.” Gavin raised the folder. “I was down in the lab asking about the sniper ballistics, but they gave me this instead.” He handed her the folder.

  Becca opened it and read the results. Her shoulders dropped.

  Gavin had insisted they double-check, and they had obliged. The gun that killed Arthur Moon was not the gun that killed Tom. “I’m sorry, Becca. I know you were hoping it would be conclusive.”