But the consequences?
I suck in a restorative breath, calming the swell of dark emotion that threatens to bleed out.
Carson’s jaw clenches as I climb the stairs to the wooden deck and I rest against the balustrade for support.
“Hey,” I say with unusual reservedness.
Slowly, he turns his head and meets my gaze. I slide onto the chair next to him, my hands stuffed between my knees, partly because the porch is in the shade and I’m cold, but also because I need to control myself. This is probably the most important conversation I will have in my life and I can’t afford to mess it up with my usual emotion.
“Can we talk?”
He nods. “Yep, think we should.”
My mind suddenly leaps to where we last broke off. I’m not in the same place now, but Carson is. That makes me panic. Why does he already look like we’ve split up? What I’m about to say will surely have him throw me off his property or haul me into a police cell. But, nonetheless, I have to tell him.
Without taking a breath, I blurt out. “I went to see Blue.”
He dips his head and massages the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb.
That’s not a good reaction, so I quickly try to recover the situation. “Because I needed to make sense of our discussion. But what he told me…is awful.”
He cocks his head to me then slowly draws his hand away from his face. “What do you mean?”
“What happened the night I was attacked.”
“Go on.” His hand hovers in the air like the expectation is too much.
“I killed someone, Carson.” I throw my hand up to my neck, where I already feel the executioner’s noose tighten against my windpipe.
The color drains from his face.
“What?” he snaps, jolting his body toward me. A beer bottle clatters onto the floor.
“I shot the guy who attacked me outside the Green Parrot and… he died. Blue buried him, somewhere… on the Corrigan lands probably.”
He leans further forward in his chair. “Blue told you this?”
Cautiously I nod.
“What the hell.” He throws his head back and runs his fingers over his hair. I’ve never seen Carson lose his cool. Never. But then again, he’s probably never had the mother of his unborn child tell him that she is a murderer.
“I killed someone,” I repeat slowly, as if the words are starting to take on a morbid familiarity.
“Lemon. That can’t be true, the guy who attacked you got up. He walked away. I’ve seen it on the VT with my own eyes. Multiple times.” His eyes sear through mine. “This is Blue trying to deflect suspicion from himself.”
I gasp a few times trying to make sense of his logic. “Do you really think Blue would do that?”
He rests his head back on the rocker and after an agonizing moment he blows out a heavy breath. “No. I don’t. But I also don’t believe you would shoot someone.”
He’s right of course, I can’t believe I would shoot someone either. But if I’m being truthful with myself, I do think something happened that night. Pulling my gun from my purse the other week brought a flash of something that unnerved me. It makes sense that something as traumatic as that would blank all memory of it.
Carson stares ahead at the lake.
I lean forward. A wave of nausea rattles through me, leaving me lightheaded.
“Are you okay?”
I suck up saliva that floods my mouth. “In a minute. I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”
He pushes my hair over my shoulder. “Lemon. This is too much. We need to work this through. Think of the consequences.”
“But shouldn’t we call the sheriff? Let him work this out?”
“No.” His tone is firm.
“I don’t feel well.” I hang my head between my knees, fighting to keep ahold of my consciousness.
He rubs my back. “You need to eat and sleep. When you’ve had some rest, we’ll talk more and decide what to do.”
If I had the energy, I’d protest, but he’s right, I do need to sleep and after forcing a peanut butter cookie and a glass of almond milk down my throat, I pass out. With Carson by my side, I lay on his mattress and my body and mind shuts down.
* * *
The sun is setting when I eventually awake to voices out on the porch.
I bolt up. Who’s here and what do they want?
Twenty Three
Carson
Blue glances into the cabin, tenses and grasps his hands around the deck rail behind him. She’s awake. Lemon stands in the doorway, the setting sun casting a warm light over her.
“Here.” I stand and indicate with my hand for her to sit in my seat.
Her face is solemn and she flashes an accusing eye from Blue to Austin to me.
“What’s going on?”
I hold out my hand again for her to sit and she slides onto the chair.
“I’ll make coffee.” I squeeze her shoulder on the way to the kitchen.
“Why are you here?” she asks Austin Barclay, and I pause to hear his answer. But instead he glances up at Blue.
“We’re worried about you, Lemon,” Blue answers.
“Worried about me? What is this? You threatening to have me carted off to a mental health institution again?” she snaps.
“No,” he rumbles. “Nothin’ at all like that.” He rubs his hands over his face. “Look, whatever we said to each other in the past, stays in the past. This is nothing to do with you and me and how we were. This is about all of our futures.”
I leave them to it on a sigh and throw the stale coffee out of the pot into the sink and brew another. It seems no matter the circumstances, Blue and Lemon can’t seem to let go of whatever this thing is between them.
Lemon comes in and throws open the fridge. “No coffee for me, thank you.” She takes a bottle of water from a shelf and unscrews the lid. “So, what’s going on?”
“I called them.” I grab three cups from the cabinet. “We need to go through what happened and collectively decide what to do.”
“So, why’s the lawyer here?”
“He’s got something to do with this—” I cut myself off before I end the sentence with mess. Because that’s what this is. A goddamn fucking mess. But I don’t need to rub her nose in it. It’s not her fault.
She huffs and takes a swig of water. She obviously woke up with some fight and that’s a good thing. Whatever decision she makes will be from a position of strength.
“Come on.” I walk back to the porch, leaving the pot on the stove to boil.
“So d’ya wanna let Lemon in on what happened?” I ask Blue and Austin.
Lemon snaps up at me. She obviously thought she knew all there was to know about the night she was attacked. She squeezes the bottle of water, preparing herself for the surprise they have in store.
Austin leans his elbows onto his knees, obviously used to speaking for his clients. “You shot the guy who attacked you. In the stomach. He had no way of surviving a wound like that.”
She pulls her legs up onto the chair and I rest my backside on the chair-arm and scoop my hand over her shoulder.
“Who was he?”
“That’s not important.”
“It’s important to me.”
“It was an accident, and you’re better off forgetting it.”
“Why? Is it something to do with you?”
“No.”
“What about you, Blue? Or this motorcycle gang that have been causing you trouble lately?”
“The Dark Angels?” I ask out loud, wondering if there is some connection.
Blue snaps to Austin, and Lemon notices.
“The Dark Angels are a wide-reaching organization—” she says.
Blue nods. “Yes, they are.”
“They kidnap girls all of the time. Human trafficking. I’ve read about it in the Visalia Herald.”
“And I’ve read about you in that paper,” Austin says glibly. Lemon looks as if she will thr
ottle him. “So that’s how much credence you can put on what’s in there.” His qualification has her simmer down somewhat.
“Look, I’m not letting up on this. I have the gun that I shot the guy with. I could go to the police, tell them what happened and give them it. Their forensics could examine it, see that it was shot…” She rubs at her head.
“You okay?” I whisper into her ear.
“Yeah. It’s just the gun…” She trails off as if something doesn’t quite add up.
“You don’t have the gun, Lemon.” Blue answers.
Austin glares at him.
“Yes, I do.”
Blue shakes his head. “No, you don’t, we… I switched it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your gun was buried too. Away from the body. The one you have is new, never been fired.”
“How so?”
Blue swallows deep.
“Did you break into my house, Blue Corrigan?”
He opens his mouth, but Lemon’s feistiness gets there first. “I can’t believe in the middle of all that happened you stole my purse and swapped out my gun then broke into my house to put it back.”
Blue looks at Austin.
“Lemon, everything that happened after you were attacked was done to protect you. Protect you from going to prison. From the heartache and anguish of living the rest of your life as a murderer. From losing everything.”
She gasps. “And what about you Austin Barclay, and you, Blue Corrigan? How will you live out the rest of your lives? Knowing you buried a man and assisted in perverting justice? What will you two lose?”
The coffee pot gurgles and hisses on the stove, a welcome reprieve in the intensity of our discussion. I rush to retrieve it. I bring it back with me along with the cups and place it in the center of the table for anyone who wants it.
Lemon’s expression is set as she works out what to make of what she’s heard so far.
Austin pours a cup of coffee. “Well, you’ve told everyone you don’t remember what happened. Why would you now change your story?”
She looks at me and I shrug. He’s right, she’d have to give details.
“I’ve seen the footage of my shooting, I’ll just tell them what I’ve seen there.”
“So, what did you say to the guy?” Austin asks. “What did he say to you? You’d have to give a full account for them to have any reason to push on with this case now.”
She sighs heavily.
“Without a body or a bullet, there’s nothing to go on. The guy hasn’t appeared anywhere injured. You didn’t move from the scene, you couldn’t have disposed of a body.” Blue adds, taking advantage of the wave of uncertainty that Austin has created. “At this point, the police don’t even know he was shot. All they’re looking for is your attacker and they can’t find him. There was no gun at the scene. You didn’t move. They think it was his gun; he shot it; he missed. They haven’t even found the bullet.”
“So, who was he?” She’s fixed on that, and who could blame her? Putting a name to a person you’ve shot would be right up there on my list of questions if it was me.
Austin looks up at Blue, who shifts nervously against the porch railing. I’ve never seen Blue like this before, he’s like a horse caught up in a storm.
“Lola said a guy was looking for me. Was it him?”
I can’t help but shake my head at that part. Probably a simple slip of the tongue on Lola’s part and Lemon’s fate was set.
“Probably.” Blue says. “It maybe was something to do with the Dark Angels. Sending someone to kidnap you, a Corrigan, to use as leverage against Lacey testifying at the trial.”
“But why wouldn’t they just kidnap her?”
“Because she is protected 24/7. Colt doesn’t leave her side. She and everyone at the ranch are on high alert right now. We have security.”
Lemon nods. “I did wonder about the gate being locked earlier.”
Yeah, and on the night of the wedding party there were security checks. I roll my lips at the thought of it being something to do with the Dark Angels. Lemon may be onto something, but then again, why wouldn’t Blue and Austin alert the authorities? It seems there would be even more reason to. But before I’m able to run through the scenario, Blue pushes off the railings and squats in front of Lemon’s chair. My hand squeezes onto her shoulder and I fight with myself not to kick him away.
I listen through a clenched jaw as he pleads with her. “Lemon, if you go to the police and tell them what you know they’ll want to find the body. Just saying you killed someone isn’t enough. Even if you give a believable account.” He looks at me for verification and I shrug. I’m reserving my judgment until everyone has said their piece. For me, this is about Lemon and what she wants to do. She’s the one with the most at stake. “If you let on that a guy is buried on my lands, then they will tear the whole place up, putting all of our livelihoods on the line and I will have to step forward to take the blame to stop them from ruining everything. I will go to prison. Do you want that?”
I’m surprised he is asking Lemon to empathize with his circumstance, and she fires back an expected line. “I didn’t ask you to bury the body and hide any evidence.”
“I know you didn’t. But I did what I thought was best for everyone. I’m not proud, but in the same circumstances I would do it all again.”
Nobody moves. The atmosphere tense. We’re all waiting on Lemon’s reaction.
She sighs and leans forward, away from my protective grip, to rest her head in her hands. After a terse few moments where each of us men exchange hard looks, she raises her head. “This is like a bad movie. What the hell am I supposed to do?” Her teary gaze lands on me. “Carson? What should I do?”
I hold her gaze for a moment. I swore an oath as a police officer and at that time I could never imagine being in this situation. I knew there would difficult times, but I thought my moral code would get me through them. And everything I’ve faced so far has been easy to navigate. This, though. This is personal. Despite that, I know what I need to say.
“Ultimately it’s up to you, Lemon. You have to live with this for the rest of your life, but please be aware of the consequences. If you are convicted, even of manslaughter in self-defense, you will likely face a prison sentence.” I look down at her stomach and she presses a hand to it.
“But what about you? What will this do to you and your career?”
My mind is made on that one. “That’s not the issue here, Lemon. This is all about you. You didn’t ask to be attacked, to be dragged into this situation. But here you are now and I will do whatever I can to protect you.” That part of my ethical code is very much intact.
Rather than calm her and dispel any fear of the uncertain decision she faces, it makes her more tearful.
She blows out over her lips. “So y’all think I should just forget about it?”
“Yes,” Blue says determinedly.
Austin nods and shoots me a glance. I reckon he did most of what Blue is claiming he did. Picking the guy up, clearing the scene of any evidence, possibly even the purse switch. And although I know it won’t make one iota of difference to Lemon’s ultimate decision to know those details, I have a feeling I don’t like, which tells me I’d rather her think Blue did those horrible things. Is that really shitty of me?
I stay quiet, because I know she can never forget about it. But what she can do is not do anymore about it. But by the looks of her, this is about all she can take in at this point.
“Look guys, I think Lemon needs some rest.” I hate to talk for her, but she looks beat again. “I’ll let you know what she decides to do.”
Blue is restless and reluctant to leave, but Austin trusts me enough to stand and place his Stetson on his head.
“Hold your horses.” Lemon suddenly stands. “Something here doesn’t add up. You’re telling me that they thought they could use me, a Corrigan, against you, and that Lola told them who I was?” She shakes her head. “No. Lola
knew I was a Gillespie. That’s what she said when she bent over me that night. Lemon Gillespie.”
Blue tries to empty his expression. But I see it.
I tap my foot, waiting on their response. If she’s not sure, then I’m not either.
“If the Dark Angels wanted to pick up Lacey, they would have done just that. I don’t believe you. Me, an excuse?” She huffs. “Everyone knows Blue and I are history. Everyone. Even Lola.”
Austin stops breathing and flicks a worried look at Blue.
Lemon shakes her head and sits back down.
All the years of policing have honed my talent of knowing when someone lies, and I can see it. Before Blue can school his expression it’s there. They are lying. My hackles raise. My blood boils. “Blue?” I warn with a growl.
Blue paces, pulling at his hair. “Austin, I’ve got to tell her.”
“You can’t.”
“I can’t lie any longer.”
Gently, I place a hand on Lemon’s wrist and encourage her to relax.
“Tell me, Blue Corrigan, or so help me God I’ll blow this whole thing wide,” she shunts out with a steely tone.
Blue fixes his eyes on to me and I discretely nod. The look we exchange is not one where he asks me if it’s okay to tell her, it’s more him asking me if I’ve got her when he does.
I slide my arm around her shoulders and brace myself for the worst.
Her breathing halts as he punches out his words.
“It was your father, Lemon.”
Twenty Four
Lemon
There’s a gurgle in the back of my throat as the whole of my life sucks down the drain.
I. Killed. My. Dad.
The lake before me swirls and the trees that frame it fuzz into dabs of rudimentary dollops of green paint.
Carson lurches from his seat and kneels before me, catching my head and chest as I collapse forward. I’m falling into a well that probably doesn’t stop until it reaches the fire pits of hell.
I’m weightless, bouncing with a slow rhythm until I come to rest on a soft cloud. My dad is on the one next to me. He turns and smiles before his face melts like a wax covered rodeo clown.
Broken in Love (Studs in Stetsons Book 2) Page 18
