“And you’re sure you went that week?” Dallas asked. “Did you go anywhere before or after? Account for the entire afternoon.”
“One day that week Anna had a cough, so we skipped dance. But I’m not positive which day it was. Usually before we go to dance we’ll stop at the library and drop off some books.”
“Did you that day?” Dallas pressed on.
“I can’t say for sure,” Harlan replied, but she still didn’t look completely convinced.
“Most people couldn’t account for a full afternoon a month and half later. Then add in the stress and anxiety of getting arrested out of the blue and being interrogated about it. They kept him in there for nine hours.”
“But wait,” Harlan said, seeming to suddenly connect some dots. “Larry didn’t just pick some random guy to accuse of murder. He must have known Tim, right?”
“Yes,” Dallas said tentatively. “They met in juvie when they were younger. Tim felt some kind of obligation to stay in touch with Larry over the years. He was like that. Always thinking he could be around to help when people needed him.”
“The speech about Mother Theresa Tim, who you know beyond a shadow of a doubt could never do anything wrong, feels a little weak now. Unless you want to tell me he was in juvie volunteering with his church group or something. Otherwise I have to wonder if maybe your perception of Tim might be different from reality.” Harlan leaned back and folded her arms across her chest as though it was now up to Dallas to convince her otherwise.
“He wasn’t guilty then either,” Dallas said, knowing how pathetic that sounded. “Don’t make that face at me.”
“I’m sorry.” Harlan shrugged. “I’ve got to be honest. I think you might be blinded by friendship.”
“Tim was arrested when we were sixteen. But I was the one who should have been. I got caught up with a bad group for a while, and one night we were going to steal a bunch of beer from a restaurant one of the kids worked at. Tim found out and showed up to talk me out of it. The cops came when we triggered the silent alarm, and we all ran. Tim was the one who got caught. I told him I’d face up to it and tell the truth, but he knew the cops wouldn’t believe he was innocent. Tim told me there was no point in both of us paying when only one of us had to. He did six months and that’s where he met Larry.”
“I’m sorry,” Harlan said. “I was wrong. You aren’t blinded by friendship. You’re riddled with guilt. That’s what’s screwing you up.”
“Neither,” Dallas said, shaking his head. “The only reason I’m not letting Tim rot in jail is because he’s innocent.”
“I’m not really in a position to agree with you, considering I don’t know him, or any more about the case. I’m along for the ride though. To make sure I’ve got it all, Angus Durrah goes missing. A month and a half later the cops pick up Larry for some robbery charge, and he tells them he knows where a body is buried and who killed the guy. They pick up Tim and interrogate him and what? He can’t come up with an alibi?”
“He was home for most of the afternoon that Larry says he was out murdering Angus. Tim lives alone and couldn’t completely account for the rest of the day. Do you know why?”
Harlan shook her head, awaiting his explanation.
“Because it was a normal day like any other. Nothing of any consequence happened that day and on days like that you don’t remember where you were every minute. The cops tried everything to crack him. He was rattled, but he never once gave any indication he was involved.”
“And you’ve chased down the leads yourself? You’ve tried to corroborate his alibi on your own?” Harlan scratched down a few notes.
“Of course,” Dallas replied, feeling attacked even though that wasn’t her intention. That’s how it was those days, if you weren’t one hundred percent with him, you were the enemy, and it was destroying his life. But seeing the problem and fixing it were two very different things. “There’s just nothing there. The last people to see Tim were a bank teller and the guy who sells newspapers on the corner at about noon. Then there’s no trace of him. He went home and stayed in the rest of the day.”
“So you won’t be able to prove him innocent,” Harlan said with such definiteness it felt like a blow to his chest. It wasn’t as though he was relying on Harlan to be the hero to this case. The odds that she could find a trail he hadn’t already traced were slim. But he did think she’d be open-minded enough to hang around a while and keep him from going mad.
That thought was dashed now as she stood and leaned on the large wooden desk in front of him. “If you can’t account for where he was, and a jury already determined one witness’s testimony was enough, you don’t have enough to prove it wasn’t him. You don’t have what it takes to get a new trial, even if Melissa is still holding out hope.”
Dallas shot to his feet, angry to hear another person give up on something he knew deserved every ounce of energy he had. “Remind me not to let you on my jury if I’m ever wrongfully convicted. I should get going. You’ve got sandwiches to make, and I’ve got to help Tim.”
“Don’t get all worked up,” Harlan demanded, catching his tense arm before he could fly out the door of the study. “We can’t prove him innocent, so we have to prove someone else guilty. A jury convicted him because they were told one version of a story and believed it. We’ve got to find a different version and make sure there’s enough evidence to exonerate Tim. Let’s not find evidence to exclude Tim; let’s catch a killer.”
Harlan stood there, a determination in her eyes that nearly matched his own. It wasn’t defeat she was declaring; it was war. War against whoever committed this crime.
The intensity and surprise on his face was enough to make her slowly drop her hand from his arm. He suddenly looked self-conscious and nervous. She was searching his expression but before she could figure out what her words had meant to him, he was on the move. His lips were crushing down on hers. His body pressing her to the desk as he wrapped a hand in her long dark hair. The kiss was hungry and frantic. The start of something wild and animalistic. Dallas raised a hand to the buttons on her shirt ready to rip them free when a thud overhead startled them both.
“The girls,” Harlan whispered, her lips centimeters from his, but it felt like miles. “We can’t.”
“Of course,” Dallas agreed, releasing his tight grip on her and clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Just be sorry you have to leave me feeling like this,” she said coyly as she licked her lips seductively. “Be sorry I’m dying for more.”
“Trust me,” he said, sitting back in the large leather chair. “I’m damn sorry about that.”
Chapter 9
“You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Harlan asked as they made their way toward the door. “My mom likes the company, and the girls like it here so much more than they like our little place. The house is quiet without Rylie, and I think they notice it more there.”
“I appreciate that,” Dallas smiled, his hand on the door knob. “I appreciate everything today. But I should let you guys enjoy your dinner. I’m going up to visit Tim tomorrow. He’ll be glad I’ve got someone helping me. He worries when I’m on my own. Some days I think he worries more about me out here than himself in prison.”
“Just be glad it’s not my brothers,” Harlan laughed as the girls snuck in. “They’d just keep hiring strangers to follow you around to make sure you’re okay. You’d never have a moment alone again.”
Dallas opened the door and waved at the two tiny faces peeking from behind Harlan. “Goodnight, girls,” he said, and they giggled and hid again.
A loud siren outside began to blare and a strobe light in the distance flashed. Some shouting off in the darkness was enough for Dallas to be alarmed. “Get down,” he commanded, jumping back in and slamming the door behind him. Scooping up the girls in his arms he dragged Harlan back, her shirt clutched in his hand. “Away from the windows. Take them upstairs.”
“It’s the perimeter alarm
,” Harlan said over the eardrum piercing noise. The girls were crying now, their tiny hands clutched over their ears. “It was probably just an accident, someone set it off by mistake.”
Dallas put the girls back on their feet at the bottom of the stairs and pulled a gun from the holster on his belt. “Go upstairs and get in a room with a lock on the door. The security team you have here tonight, they haven’t changed right?”
“Not in a while,” Harlan said, looking over her shoulder as she moved the girls up the stairs. “It’s two men at the gate and one who walks the perimeter. Three total, I think.”
“Go,” Dallas shouted, his gun held skillfully in his large hand as he moved back toward the front door.
“Junebug,” Harlan said loudly. “That’s the code word for the security team here tonight. That’s how they’ll know you aren’t a threat.”
Dallas nodded and disappeared out the front door as Harlan moved the girls down the hallway to her mother’s room.
“Mom,” she called. As she entered she saw her mother standing at the large bay window. “Away from the window. Take the girls, stay on the bed, and lock the door behind me.”
“What’s happening?” her mother asked, both girls huddling under her arms. There were people you could count on in a crisis and people who fell apart. Her entire life her mother was the latter, and that left a void Harlan had learned to fill herself. Crisis was a part of life, an unavoidable inevitability, and she’d learned long ago you couldn’t wait around for the next person to stand up and help. She was plenty capable.
“It’s nothing,” Harlan assured, waving the whole thing off. “Someone probably just tripped one of the alarms. Dallas is checking it out, and the security team is out by the gate. It’ll be fine, but stay here.”
“They normally turn it right off if they trip it,” her mother said, her eyes wild with worry.
“It’s nothing,” Harlan repeated, willing her mother to toe the line so the girls would not be any more afraid than they already were. “Just lock this door and put the TV on. I’ll be right back.”
Racing down the stairs, Harlan was skipping every other one and sliding her way back to the front door. She pushed aside the heavy curtain and peeked out the small window, trying to see if the security team was making their way toward the house.
Harlan did everything possible to convince herself that she and her kids were no longer in danger. Her father had crossed Marc Azeela, a notorious criminal in Boston. She and her children had been used as pawns in an effort to collect money. A deal was struck, and her freedom, along with the girls’, was part of that deal. But people went back on deals all the time. Their safety hinged on her unreliable father staying out of trouble, something he hadn’t been able to do her entire life.
“Dallas,” she said as she stepped out on to the front steps. “Earl?” she called to the normal security guard who should have been posted by the gate.
Before she could step any farther she saw Dallas, his arm around a strange man’s neck as he wrestled him to the ground.
Without thinking, she charged toward them, wanting to help, wanting to know what was going on. Earl and another security guard ran to Dallas’s side and drew their weapons.
“No,” Harlan cried, placing herself between them and Dallas as he subdued the man he was wrestling. “Earl, this is Dallas; he’s my friend. I don’t know the other man he’s holding.”
“Junebug,” Dallas said as Earl and the second man helped restrain the stranger.
“My name is Garret,” the man on the ground said, barely catching his breath, dirt likely filling his mouth. “I’m supposed to pick up Mrs. Kalling and her daughters and take them home.” He coughed and gasped. “So can you let me go?”
“I don’t need a ride home,” Harlan said incredulously.
“Emmitt hired me,” the man choked out. “My GPS took me up to the side gate I guess, and when I got out of the car to get buzzed in there was nothing there. I hopped the gate, figuring I’d just come up and ring the doorbell.”
Dallas loosened his grip on the stubby looking guy and shoved him back. “You are supposed to be security, and you hopped the gate? If you were really working here you’d have been given a briefing on the system, on the location, and the family. You’d have known about the perimeter alarms.”
“The briefing,” he croaked, rubbing at his sore neck. “I did get it. I kind of skimmed it. I figured I’d read it at night or something when she and the boys were sleeping.”
“I have daughters,” Harlan started but Dallas cut in angrily.
“You what?” he demanded, looking ready to punt the guy like a football. “You skimmed a security briefing? You showed up on a job without knowing what you were walking into? Where the hell did Emmitt find you?”
“He hired my cousin actually, but he couldn’t make it here until tomorrow. I was just kind of covering for him.”
“Stop talking,” Dallas barked, raising a hand like he might hit him again.
Harlan’s phone began to ring in her pocket, and she jumped. “It’s Emmitt,” she sighed, seeing now she’d missed two of his calls earlier in the day. She’d been so caught up in Dallas she’d forgotten to check in.
Dallas reached out a hand, wanting her phone. “I want to talk to him. You go in and let your mother and the girls know everything is all right. You two,” he said to Earl and his partner, “go back to your posts. Reset the alarm and do a sweep of the area.”
“Yes sir,” they replied, though he had no real authority to order them around.
“Emmitt, it’s Dallas,” he began, keeping his eyes fixed on the man sprawled across the lawn. “We’ve got a problem here, but I’ve got it under control.”
Harlan made her way back to the house, her heart banging violently in her chest. Reaching for the doorknob, she had to use both shaking hands to get a steady grip. “Everything is all right,” she whispered to herself, trying to put on a poker face for her kids. Just like the night they were abducted, she knew it would always be her job to keep them from knowing just how dangerous the world could be.
Swallowing back all the fear, all the memory and worry, she opened her mother’s door and laughed through her wide smile. “Oh, you won’t believe how silly that was,” she started and instantly the worry melted from their faces. “Uncle Emmitt and his big plans.”
“Dallas had his gun,” Anna said, a bit of anxiety returning to her shiny brown eyes. “He yelled at us.”
“He was just trying to talk over the alarm,” Harlan explained. “And his gun was only because that’s part of his job. When the alarm goes off, even when it’s silly, that’s what he has to do.”
“He’d shoot someone?” Logan worried, and Harlan’s heart ached, not even knowing her youngest daughter understood the purpose of a gun before now.
“If it meant keeping us safe,” Harlan said, swallowing hard. “But we are safe, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Like when those bad guys took us that night?” Anna asked, leaning her head on her grandmother’s shoulder. When you knew every inch of your child’s face, every rise of a brow and the meaning of each expression you could map out what they were thinking. This was a question her daughter did not just think up tonight. It was something Harlan did not know had been weighing on her beautiful daughter’s mind.
“What bad guys?” Harlan asked, pretending she had no idea what her daughter meant, praying for some slim chance that the lies she told her them about their abduction had stuck.
“The night Uncle Emmitt had to come get us from those bad guys that took us. He had his gun too. We were watching that movie about the dog,” Logan said as if she were recalling a normal night in her own living room.
Harlan opened her mouth to explain, but no words came. She knew how to scare away monsters in the closet, how to make brushing your teeth fun. It was even in her skillset to explain things like heaven and rainbows. But this had her at a loss for words. Real bad guys. Real danger.
“Can’t we stay here?” Anna begged, clinging to her grandmother. “Please?”
“I guess we can stay here,” Harlan agreed reluctantly.
“But this is where the bad guys are,” Logan said, her eyes wide with worry. “They made the alarm go off. They could take us again.”
“There’s no bad guys here,” Dallas said firmly, not skipping a beat. He delivered his assertion with a kind smile that would be hard to not trust.
“If there were, you would shoot them,” Logan said, somewhere between a statement and a question. She was waiting for something from him.
Harlan looked away from them all, fixing her eyes on the window. She couldn’t see if he was stunned or uncomfortable by the question. But there was no time to wonder, as he answered with such a clear message.
“When you see me,” he said, pointing to his chest, “you can be sure no one bad would be anywhere around. The bad guys know who I am. They know I don’t like them, and they stay far away. Same with your mom. She’s very strong, and she wouldn’t let anything happen to you no matter what. Your uncles have sent very brave people here to make sure you are safe.”
“She told the bad guy who took us she was going to cut him in the throat with a pointy thing you open mail with,” Logan said, agreeing whole heartedly with Dallas’s point about Harlan. She had been sure her voice was low enough that night that her children hadn’t heard her threats.
“Can you stay too?” Anna asked Dallas, punctuating her question with a long large yawn.
“Of course I will,” he nodded. “It’s my job. If you all decided you are going to sleep here then I’ll be here all night.”
“Sleep over,” Logan said, seeming suddenly unfazed by any drama or worry. The reassurance had worked like a charm for her tiny heart. “Grandma can we sleep up here with you?”
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