Shelby huffed out a breath. “I don’t understand. If I don’t speak, how do they question me?” All Shelby could think of were those crime shows where detectives grilled a suspect until they confessed. Well, she had nothing to confess. So what could she possibly say that would implicate her?
He laughed in his typical haughty tone. “It’s the way it works, Ms. Castle. They ask questions, and I refuse to allow you to answer. I won’t let them get anything that will allow them to press charges.”
“I understand, Mr. Belcher. So you’ll meet me there, then?”
“Yes.” He exhaled a long breath. “Don’t walk in or speak to anyone until I’m there,” he reminded her for the tenth time, then hung up.
Shelby stood outside the courthouse waiting for Randall Belcher to ride up in his white Cadillac. She kind of wished Tom was here, even though she knew she needed to stay as far away from him as possible right now. But Tom made her feel good inside, about herself, about a possible future. She wanted to hand him all her troubles and hide under a rock. Somehow, she could picture him riding up on a real white horse, charging the station, and carrying her away.
She blew out a breath and leaned over the railing. She’d obviously read too many fairy tales when she was a child. Prince Charming had never whisked away her mother, and she was beautiful, more beautiful than Shelby could ever be.
She was proportioned perfectly, round and shapely. She wasn’t too tall, too lanky. She had amazing bronze-colored hair that radiated in the sunshine. Her eyes even sparkled, hinting of different colors from hazel to golden brown. Shelby and Andy had plain blond hair almost platinum, no highlights to reflect in the sunlight.
Past boyfriends had always told her that her eyes were a pretty shade of sky blue, but she saw nothing spectacular in the mirror; they were just light blue.
If her mother had been left to raise two kids, why would Shelby be treated any differently? Carlin had always spoken to her as if she were worthless. Well, after she was pregnant, that is. He’d constantly thrown in her face how she was nothing but white trash with no daddy and no name other than his.
Her eyes filled. She wished he’d died when she hit him with the frying pan. Then she never would have gotten a taste of Tom and a life that could never be. And she would have probably gotten off on self-defense. Now she didn’t know what would happen.
It surprised her that they wanted her to come in this evening. But she guessed when a suspect was willing to speak, they listened. All she cared about was getting her son back. And if showing good faith helped that along, she didn’t care.
Hearing a door slam, Shelby squinted into the dimly lit parking lot and saw Randall Belcher and Clayton step out of the car. The two of them were awfully chummy. Maybe Tom was right and she should have a different attorney. Even if she had to go with a public defender, it might be better than trusting her freedom to a man who wanted her child.
Belcher dipped his head as he climbed up the steps one at a time. “Evenin’, Ms. Castle.”
Shelby forced a smile. “Hello, Mr. Belcher. Thank you for meeting me.”
Her father-in-law walked up to her and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Shell. I got in touch with some folks today. We’ll have Justin home by tomorrow.”
A surge of heat ran through her veins. “We’ll? As in, you and June? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, Clayton.”
Clayton narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side a fraction. “What are you insinuating, Shelby?”
“I saw June. She told me how you were gonna get your grandson.” She drew in a breath and tried to control her temper. “He’s my son, Clayton. Not yours. Y’all had your chance.”
Her father-in-law stepped forward and raised his arms as though he were going to touch her, so she stepped out of his reach.
Clayton stopped and held up his hands in front of him. “Honey, I don’t want to take your son from you. I just want to make sure he’s safe. We want both of you in our lives.”
A burst shot out of Shelby’s throat. “June doesn’t want me in her life—”
“I do, and I swear—”
“Clayton,” Belcher interrupted. “Now’s not the time or place, and I’d like to get home at a respectable hour this evening.”
Clayton nodded and motioned for Shelby to go ahead of him.
Ten minutes later, Shelby sat at one side of a long table with Belcher across from her and two detectives at the opposite end. The detectives wouldn’t allow Clayton to come inside the room.
The taller detective—Wilson Meare, he’d said—pushed a recording device and stated the date and time, then gestured to Shelby. “Please state your full name for the record.”
“Shelby Lynn Montgomery Castle,” she forced out, her voice nearly nonexistent. She took a sip from the water bottle they’d given her.
“And you understand your rights as they’ve been read to you?”
“Yes.”
“And you agree to answer questions with your attorney present?”
“Yes.” Shelby was careful to do as Belcher had said and answer with only a yes or no whenever possible.
“Ms. Castle, how long have you and Carlin Castle, the deceased, been divorced?”
“Not relevant,” Belcher spoke up. “Stick to the facts, Detective, or this session will terminate.”
Shelby didn’t see the harm with the question, but she sat quietly, waiting for the next intrusion on her personal life.
“When is the last time you saw your ex-husband, Ms. Castle?”
She chanced a peek at Belcher, and he nodded. “Sunday evening.”
“What time Sunday evening, Ma’am?”
“Um…’round nine, I guess.”
“And how do you know it was nine?”
Belcher thrummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Detective, this isn’t a courtroom. She answered your question. Let’s save the interrogation for the jury, shall we? Remember, Ms. Castle is here under her own will.”
“Did you and Carlin have a fight?”
“No.”
Meare raised a brow. “You’d just got out of jail for hitting him, and—”
“Detective!” Belcher stood to his feet.
“We didn’t fight,” Shelby interrupted. “I want this over with, Mr. Belcher.”
The detective leaned closer over the table. “So you’re telling me at nine o’clock you went to bed and didn’t see him again until you found his dead body?”
“Yes.”
“Did you talk?”
“Not really.”
The detective cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Either you did or you didn’t, Ms. Castle.”
“We talked in the car, not in the house.”
“So you came home after getting out of jail and had no contact?”
“We didn’t talk, but he hugged me.”
There were a few quiet chuckles around the room. Certainly the men in the room couldn’t understand how a man would hug a woman who’d hit him over the head with a frying pan.
“So, Carlin was sorry?” Detective Meare asked.
“Yes.”
“For hitting you?”
“Yes.”
“How long has he hit you?”
“Since we’ve been together; four years.”
“And were you tired of it?”
“Detective,” Belcher warned, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes. I had packed my bags and was moving out.”
Belcher jumped to his feet again. “Interview is over, Shelby.”
Shelby shook her head, confused. What had she said?
The detective leaned against the table, his upper body supported by his balled up fist on the desk, sending her the image of a bulldog. “Carlin was just gonna let you go, Ms. Castle? After bailing you out of jail?”
Randall Belcher grabbed her arm and tried to pull her out of the room.
Shelby jerked away from him. “Stop it! All of you. God, I’m so tired of men pushing and pullin
g me. It seems every man thinks he can put his hands on me.” Shelby locked eyes with the detective, challenging him. “Carlin was asleep on the couch, and I packed my stuff to leave.”
Wilson Meare narrowed his eyes, accepting her challenge, it seemed. “But you didn’t leave, Ms. Castle. Why? Did Carlin stop you? How was Carlin so soundly asleep at nine o’clock on the couch that he didn’t hear you?”
Shelby shook her head, understanding now what Belcher had feared. “Carlin didn’t stop me; Clayton did,” she blurted out.
Her attorney cracked his hands on the table. “That’s enough, Ms. Castle! You either stop talking or I can no longer represent you.”
“Okay,” Shelby agreed, lifting her hands in front of her. She raised one finger, tapping it against her mouth. “One more thing, though…” Belcher glared at her, so she turned her eyes back to Meare. “I didn’t kill Carlin. And I’d be willing to take a lie detector test or sign anything you want.”
The detective opened his mouth to speak, but Randall Belcher slammed his notebook closed, indicating he was finished and motioned for her to precede him out of the room.
Shelby sighed, but stood up. Was it wrong to want to declare her innocence?
Clayton jumped up from a row of black vinyl-covered seats as soon as they stepped into the main room. “Everything okay?”
Belcher waved his large hand in the air, huffed, and walked off, leaving them both standing in the waiting area.
Her father-in-law glanced over his shoulder at her. “Um, I guess you’ll be taking me home then, Shelby? What did you do to Randall?”
“I told the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Shelby drove her Ford Explorer out of the police station parking lot and headed toward the Castles’ property.
Andy was right. She didn’t belong there. June had made it clear this afternoon. But she would have to be respectful until they got Justin back, and then she’d leave for good.
Clayton adjusted his body in the leather seat so he was facing her. “I talked to a few more people while you were in there, Shelby. Justin will be home tomorrow.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes. She hadn’t cried in years, but the last few days had been a challenge. She could take pain. Physical pain was temporary, and crying didn’t help anyway. But emotional pain was a different thing.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Earlier today I heard that it takes a week to get a court date—”
“They had no right, Shell. They jumped the gun. No one can say that you’ve ever been a danger to your son. I spoke directly with the judge who signed the order, and he reversed it. He demanded that D.S.S. bring him home first thing in the morning.”
She squeezed the steering wheel to release some of her anger. “Why can’t we get him tonight?”
“They said they couldn’t disrupt the center this late; it would throw off their schedule. Some kind of horsecrap like that. You know how government agencies are.”
“No, Clayton, I don’t.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I don’t know about any of this stuff. All I’ve tried to do is stay out of trouble my entire life, keep my nose clean. Then Carlin walks into my life, promising me the world.” Shelby brushed away a tear running down her cheek. “I saw how hard my momma had it. And I wanted more, felt like I deserved more—”
“You do deserve more, Shelby. I’m sorry I made you come back, made you stay…”
Shelby hit the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the deserted street and turning toward him. “That’s what I don’t understand, Clayton. Why? Why did you do it? I wouldn’t be in all of this mess if you’d kept your nose out of my life. Why didn’t you jump in when he was beating me—”
“I did, Shelby!” He cut her off, smacking his hand against the dash. “I nearly beat Carlin to a pulp last time he touched you. And I never hit him growing up. He probably should’a got a whoopin’ or two. Maybe he wouldn’t have turned out so rotten. But June wouldn’t let me. She spoiled him to no end.” He sighed. “But when I saw what he did to you last time—” Clayton tapped his fist against his mouth, a breath quivering out of his throat. “Shelby, Justin’s all I have. June and I…we’re not good. Never have been. I’ve lost everything I’ve ever cared about because of her. I can’t lose Justin too.”
Shelby ran her hand across her forehead, squeezing her temples; a massive migraine was making its way to the surface. This was all so confusing. “Uh…” She stopped and turned back to the road. There was nothing to say. She’d always known Clayton cared about Justin and her, always knew he’d take care of her baby. But she never imagined he would choose her over his own son.
She shifted the vehicle into drive and continued down the long private road to the Castles’ estate. She stopped in front of the main house for Clayton to get out, then drove off before he could even shut the door.
When she parked the SUV and got out, she saw that Clayton was still standing there. He waved, then walked off to the front door. What did he want from her? Besides Justin, that is. Could she trust that he had her best interests in mind? Belcher seemed to be defending her with all he had. He’d been outraged that she would implicate herself. But could it be a show, so he wouldn’t get in trouble.
She walked toward the front stoop feeling naked without Justin. Rarely were they not together. And if she hadn’t gone out, none of this would have happened. If she’d never returned to Carlin, none of this would have happened.
As she made her way up the stairs, she gasped. Spelled out across the top step with long-stemmed black roses were the words LEAVE OR DIE. Without thinking, she kicked each one off the porch into the bushes bordering the house, screaming. She stumbled into the house and fell onto the sofa.
It wouldn’t do any good to call the police. She’d just spend hours explaining over and over that she was the victim in all of this. They’d probably accuse her of making up everything. She pulled out her phone and dialed the one person who would listen without demands. At least she hoped he would. He might already be tired of all her issues.
He answered on the first ring. “I’m so glad you called. How did it go?”
She tried to speak, but nothing but a whimper came out as she tried to repress everything. She couldn’t keep crying to him.
“Shelby, are you okay?”
“Yes, Tom,” she finally forced out of her mouth. “It’s just…”
“I’m so sorry. You want me to come over?”
“No. Yes, but no. Can you just sit here with me for a few minutes over the phone? Talk to me about anything else but my life, please.”
“Okay. Hmm…” She could hear his soft breaths through the phone, and she imagined the warmth on her skin as it had been this morning. “Don’t care to talk about myself, Shelby. I’d rather talk about you, but I guess I understand.” He paused for a second. “Oh, I know. I got a case today.”
“Your first?” she asked.
“No. Second. Remember the rabbit farmer?”
She actually smiled. “Yes,” she said on a soft chuckle. She knew Tom could help. Sweet Tom, she thought, and she actually felt her body relax into the couch.
“Well, it’s a good case. Easy case. No life-sentence on the line. Just some kids messing up.” He sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear about this?”
“Yes. Keep talking, please.”
Chapter Twenty-two
A knock on the door sent Shelby to her feet and her cell phone to the floor.
As Tom had continued to talk to her about his day, she’d fallen asleep. She vaguely remembered him telling her goodnight. He’d known she was falling asleep, but he kept talking, as she’d requested. He’d moved from his workday to kayaking, reminding her that it was something that they both loved.
His voice was so calming. She could listen to him for hours, and evidently, she had. When she picked her phone up off the floor and entered her password to awaken it, the last call timer read 1:57. He’d held her, exactly as she’
d requested. No questions, no demands.
Another rap on the door pulled her from her thoughts. “Coming,” she called as she ran to the door, pulling it open. “Oh, my baby!” she cried out, reaching for Justin as he squirmed out of a woman’s arms.
“Ma…ma,” Justin squealed.
She pulled her son tightly to her chest and walked backward into the house. “Come in, please. Come in. Thank you. Thank you.”
The woman stepped inside, her eyes darting around the room. “Good morning, Ms. Castle. I’m Mrs. Elise Smith with the Department of Social Services.”
Clayton walked inside behind the woman.
Shelby picked up the throw pillows that she’d evidently kicked to the floor during the night. “Please, have a seat. Do you want coffee?” She bounced Justin on her hip, running her fingers through his soft blond curls.
“No thank you, Ms. Castle. Unfortunately, this is not a social visit.” The woman took a seat on the sofa Shelby had slept on.
Clayton sat next to the lady, never taking his eyes off her and Justin. Why was he looking at her as though she’d dart out of the door any second, as if that would be possible with a two-year-old on her hip.
She sat in the chair across from the social worker and Clayton.
“Honey,” her father-in-law started, and Shelby cringed. He didn’t have good news…that’s why he looked so solemn. “The courts have given June and I temporary custody of Justin.”
“What?” Her voice cracked in disbelief, instant tears flooding her eyes. “He’s my son. I’d never let anything happen to him. Can’t you see how much he loves me?”
She kissed Justin on the head, and he leaned his little head back for her to kiss him on the cheek, as he always did. She kissed him on the cheek in response. He smiled and nuzzled his head against her chest.
The woman shifted her weight on the sofa, digging through her satchel and pulling out a folder. “Yes, Ms. Castle, I can. But we have to think about what’s best for the child.”
When Noonday Ends: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Nantahala - Book Two Page 11
