Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing (15 page)

Chapter Twenty

Avery tingled all over from Jaxon’s erotic ministrations. He lifted her hips and planted his tongue inside her, and she clenched the sheets, mind-numbing sensations spiraling through her.

He stroked her until she cried out his name and begged him to join his body with hers. Slowly he rose above her, rolled on a condom, then framed her face with his hands.

“Are you sure, Avery?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Heat flared in his eyes as he nudged her legs apart and stroked her with his thick erection. She was moist and achy, her body begging for more, and she opened to him, welcoming him inside her as he gently entered her.

He paused, his arms shaking as he exerted control, giving her time to adjust to the feel of him. Hunger and passion drove her to pull his hips closer, and she moved against him in an urgent cry for him to go deeper.

Spurned by her encouragement, he moved his hips in a circular motion, thrusting deeper, inching out, then thrusting again. Erotic sensations shot through her, and soon they were tangled in each other’s arms, bodies gliding against each other, kisses and tongues colliding as their lovemaking became more frantic.

Another orgasm began to build, the incessant throbbing for more causing her to whisper his name, and he lifted her hips and filled her, his body jerking with his own release as her orgasm claimed her.

“I never knew it could be so beautiful,” she whispered.

“Me, neither,” he admitted gruffly.

They lay entwined, breathing unsteady, the heat between them rippling through her in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Who knew that touches and kisses could be so gentle and passionate? That they could feel so good, not hurtful?

That she would want Jaxon the way she had? The way she still wanted him?

Jaxon eased himself off her, then slid from bed and went into the bathroom. She suddenly felt bereft.

But he returned a moment later, slipped back into bed and pulled her into his arms.

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered.

His breath brushed her cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten in bed with you in the first place.”

She shushed him, then cradled his face between her hands and kissed him. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

“That’s not what I meant.” He nipped at her neck, then gently eased a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re beautiful, Avery. No matter what happens, don’t forget that.”

She stilled in his arms for a moment, wondering what he meant. Was he already pulling away?

Trying to warn her not to expect anything more from him?

Or warn her that he didn’t think Hank would be freed?

He traced one finger down the slope of her breast, and she banished thoughts of Hank and her father and the investigation, and Wade Mulligan.

From this moment on, she would remember how it felt to have Jaxon’s hands touching her, and no one else’s.

Her heart stuttered, and she ran a hand over his hard chest, titillating sensations spiraling through her as he sucked in a sharp breath. The desire that heated his eyes emboldened her, and she crawled on top of him and kissed him again, naked skin against naked skin.

Then words were forgotten as they made love again. This time when her release spiraled through her, she bit back words of love, knowing Jaxon wouldn’t want to hear them.

* * *

J
AXON
LEFT
A
VERY
sleeping the next morning and showered, self-recriminations beating at him.

He hadn’t made love to a woman in a while. Actually, he didn’t know if he’d ever made love. He’d had sex before, but love was never involved. Neither was tenderness or the desperate kind of need he felt with Avery.

He’d certainly never slept all night with his partner, nor held her and loved her again and again.

He still wanted her.

Damn, emotional entanglements were dangerous. Avery might appear strong, but she’d been hurt badly before, and she was fragile.

Thankfully he kept a change of clothes in a duffel bag in his SUV in case he got stuck overnight on a case, and he dressed, then strapped on his gun and brewed a pot of coffee.

His phone buzzed, indicating a text, and he checked it. The director and the D.A. were going to meet him at the jail.

He started to scribble a note to Avery, but she appeared, her face flushed from their lovemaking, her eyes glittering with the memories.

His body hardened. In spite of his reservations, he wanted her again.

“I have to go to the sheriff’s office,” he said instead. “I’m meeting the D.A. and director of the FBI there.”

Avery tightened the belt to her robe and poured herself a cup of coffee, although her hand trembled slightly. “I’ll go with you.”

“No.” The word came out harsher than he’d intended, so he tried to soften his reaction. “Stay here and shower. Rest. I’ll call you when the meeting’s over and let you know what happens.”

“But this is about my brother,” Avery said.

He didn’t want to hurt her or disappoint her. And this meeting might not go well. “Please let me do my job and handle it.”

Avery blew on her coffee. “All right. But promise you’ll call me as soon as you can.”

“I promise.” He gestured toward the door. “Just keep the doors locked.”

Avery nodded, and he put his mug in the dishwasher and headed out the door before he did something foolish like take her back to bed and admit that he loved her.

Dread for the upcoming meeting balled in his belly as he drove toward the jail. The director and the D.A. would be furious that Hank Tierney’s father had come forward with a confession.

And could he present Tierney’s confession to the judge knowing that it might not be legitimate?

Avery’s face flashed in his mind, followed by Hank’s tortured look. If he didn’t, Hank might be put to death. And that would kill Avery.

But was he crossing the line by placing her feelings before the letter of the law?

* * *

A
VERY
CARRIED
HER
coffee to the table and saw the piles of letters Jaxon had sorted through. It took only a few minutes to understand the categories he’d organized them into.

She squinted to decipher his handwriting. He’d made several notes on a legal pad regarding the investigation and people they’d questioned.

Another letter lay separate from the pile, drawing her attention, and she picked it up and read it.

Dear Hank,

I’m so sorry that you spent your life in prison, and have prayed for you every day for the past twenty years. You were a lost, angry boy, and you had reason to be angry.

I wish I could change the outcome of that night for you. But I know you hated Wade Mulligan, and he deserved to die for what he did to you and your sister.

Mistakes were made back then. The Mulligans never should have been allowed to take children into their home. And I’m so sorry that you and Avery were hurt by them.

At least Wade’s death saved other children from suffering the way you did.

I pray for your soul and for forgiveness for my own.

Avery’s chest tightened. That letter...sounded like an apology. As if the person writing it knew that Hank was innocent.

Because the letter had been written by the real killer?

Not by her father, either. The handwriting was too feminine.

She glanced at the pad again. Jaxon had made a list of all the females they’d spoken with regarding Mulligan.

Two of the fosters, Imogene and Lois. The two social workers, Erma Brant and Delia Hanover.

Dear God, had one of them killed Wade?

And if so, what did Jaxon intend to do about her father?

Confusion and worry clawed at her, and she hurried to get dressed. Ten minutes later, she grabbed her purse and jacket and raced out the door.

Her father’s confession taunted her as she barreled down the drive and onto the street leading into town. Had Jaxon decided the confession was bogus? That the woman in the letter killed Wade?

Was that the reason he hadn’t wanted her to go with him today?

Pain wrenched her heart. She’d trusted Jaxon. Had given him her body and her heart. Did he have any feelings toward her?

She spun into the parking lot and climbed out, her nerves raw as she went inside. Jaxon’s SUV was there, along with a black sedan.

But the front office was empty. Anxious, she opened the double doors to the back, pausing at the sound of loud voices.

Jaxon’s. Then another man’s.

She eased closer to the door, prepared to knock, but the man’s words stopped her.

“Listen here, Ward, you were supposed to come here and make sure Hank Tierney’s conviction wasn’t questioned, not drum up another suspect that could make all of us who worked that case look like fools. And—” the man’s voice rose “—I told you that if this case gets overturned, it’ll mean every single case D.A. Snyderman or I worked will come under scrutiny. We’re talking about hundreds of cases over the years.”

Avery’s chest constricted with hurt. Jaxon had come to Cherokee Crossing to make sure Hank was executed, not to find the truth.

But he’d pretended he wanted to help her. He’d lied to her and used her and...slept with her when he was working against her the entire time.

* * *

J
AXON
CHOKED
BACK
his anger. If he wanted to make a point with the director and D.A. Snyderman, he had to present a logical explanation.

“I understand your concerns,” he said. “But as a lawman, I can’t ignore the facts or that Hank recanted his confession.”

“That boy was dangerous and deserved to go to jail,” Snyderman said. “You saw how brutal he was in his attack.”

“Hank Tierney was enraged because he was trying to protect his sister,” Jaxon said through gritted teeth. “Tierney’s lawyer should have used that in his defense. He should have called the social workers, other foster kids and teachers to testify that the children in that house were in danger.”

“He got a defense,” Snyderman said. “And all of us did our jobs back then.”

The door swung open, and Jaxon jerked around to see Avery standing in the doorway glaring at all of them. “Did you do your jobs or did you railroad a frightened fourteen-year-old boy into prison?”

Jaxon opened his mouth to apologize, but Snyderman spoke up. “No one railroaded him into anything, Miss Tierney. Your brother confessed. He had the murder weapon in his hand and there were no other prints on it.”

“Because he wiped them off to protect me!” Avery shouted.

Snyderman and the director exchanged concerned, nervous looks.

“You have no proof that your brother didn’t kill Mulligan,” Director Landers said.

Avery shot Jaxon a look of pure hatred. She’d obviously heard their conversation through the door and thought he’d betrayed her.

“What about my father’s confession?” Avery asked.

Director Landers crossed his arms. “That will never hold up in court.”

“It’s obvious he’s lying as a last attempt to save your brother,” Snyderman said.

Avery turned to Jaxon. “Is that what you think, Sergeant Ward?”

The fact that she’d used his title and last name indicated how upset she was. Dammit, he was caught between a rock and a hard place.

“Do you?” Avery cried.

Jaxon heaved a breath. He wanted to lie and protect her. He wanted to free her brother.

But his integrity won out. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “You and I discussed the autopsy. The fatal wound was inflicted by a left-handed person.”

Avery’s brows rose, but resignation settled on her face. “And my father is right-handed.”

He nodded.

“I’m left-handed,” Avery said with a tilt to her chin. She faced Snyderman and the director. “I had the knife in my hand, and I had motive.” She held out her arms. “Arrest me and set my brother free.”

“Avery, stop it,” Jaxon said. “Making a false confession is serious. I’m trying to unearth the truth once and for all.”

“You’re all trying to bury my brother.” Tears glittered in Avery’s eyes. “And that’s not right.”

Jaxon moved toward her, but she stepped back, her hand flying up in a warning for him not to touch her.

Then she turned and ran from the room. Jaxon started after her, but the director stepped in front of him. “Let her go, Ward. We’re not finished here.”

Jaxon stared at the director, his anger mounting. No, they weren’t finished.

But he couldn’t drop the case without finding the truth. He’d already lost Avery.

And he might lose his job.

But a man’s life was at stake.

He would make sure justice was served, no matter who it hurt or what it cost him.

* * *

T
EARS
FLOODED
A
VERY
’
S
eyes as she ran from the jail. She couldn’t believe what a fool she’d been. That she’d trusted Jaxon and opened herself up to him when he’d been working against her these past few days.

Although he had at least interviewed different people regarding the murder. That list of females on his pad at home flashed in her mind.

Which of those women were left-handed?

Not Joleen. Besides, she was too big a coward to have killed Wade.

And she definitely wasn’t the kind of person to harbor enough guilt to write a heartfelt letter to Hank in prison.

Imogene was another possibility—but she was too unstable to testify about anything. The same with Erma.

Lois was a cop and could have been tough enough to kill Wade, even when she was young. She also could have decided to pay penance by becoming an officer who locked up others, like Wade.

Frustration made the tears come harder. Who else?

Delia Hanover, the woman who’d placed her and Hank in the home. She seemed nice, calm, caring. She worked with children now.

Avery struggled to recall if she was left-or right-handed and couldn’t remember.

But Erma had said she’d written a note to the social worker who’d replaced her, advising her not to put children with the Mulligans.