Sugar Free (19 page)

“Miss Halstead, if you want me to believe this story, which started out with you telling me Mr. Townsend raped you, why didn't the DNA in your case match up to Mr. Townsend when we put it in the system?”

I look at her sadly and decide to answer in a self-loathing whisper. “I don't know. I think I may have been wrong about all of that.”

Shit, fuck, shit, fuck.

Pace to one side of the police reception lobby, turn and pace to the other side.

The young cop sitting duty watches me warily, and I'm sure I'm making quite the spectacle. Mumbling obscenities to myself, constantly pulling my phone out to check the time, even though there's a plain wall clock just behind the reception desk.

I'd woken up and saw Sela wasn't in bed. Didn't even need to call out her name or search the apartment. I could tell by the stillness in the air and the dread pushing down on my chest she'd made a run for the police station to confess. I immediately called her cell but she didn't answer. I then called Doug and told him to meet me at the Sausalito Police Department. I was sure that's where she was.

I'm so angry at her right now I should just leave her here to rot. I should after she refused to speak to me. But I suppose the damage is done and now I have to figure out how to not only get myself out of this mess but get Sela out as well.

Shit, fuck, motherfucker, fuck.

The door to the station opens and I see Doug walking in, looking very different in a pair of dark jeans, a UCLA sweatshirt, and hiking boots. His hair is flattened on one side, and that tells me he rushed out of his home as soon as I called him without even bothering to use a comb.

I jerk my chin to the outside and give him a pointed look. He gets the message, that we need to talk in privacy, and heads back out. Before I follow him, I look back to the cop. “I'm going to be standing just outside. I need to talk to Detective Denning when she's done.”

He nods at me, looking completely mystified by the events that occurred this morning. I'm sure he's never encountered someone walking in before to confess to murder.

Doug is waiting for me a few paces from the door, leaning back against the pale red brick exterior of the building. It's not quite seven
A.M.
and the early morning rush-hour traffic is starting to pick up, but for now we're alone on the sidewalk.

“You said on the phone that Sela came here to confess to killing JT,” Doug says to start the conversation.

I nod, and I'm sure Doug knows the look of irritation on my face is not for him. “Yeah…She's in there right now spilling her guts. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn't see me.”

“Did she do it?” he asks, and I can tell by the tone of his voice he doesn't expect me to admit anything, but I can't hold anything back now.

“Yes,” I tell him bluntly, and he physically jerks in surprise, pushing off the building.

“She killed JT?” he asks. “And you didn't think to tell me this as a defense to the charges against you?”

I give him an exasperated look, wondering if this man has ever felt the power of love or the need to protect the way I have.

“I was sort of banking on the fact that
I didn't actually do it
would save me,” I tell him dryly. “Handing Sela over was not an option.”

“Tell me what happened, and I need the full truth so I can figure out options at this point,” he says, and there's no missing the chastisement in his voice.

Taking a deep breath, I give him the short version of the story. “He called Sela to come over to his house. Wanted to get her help in convincing me to let him remain in The Sugar Bowl. He got angry when she wouldn't and came after her. Was choking her. She got the letter opener and stabbed him in self-defense.”

Doug's lips flatten out in a look that says,
That's the most ludicrous, unbelievable story that I've ever heard.

“Just do something to help her,” I snap at him.

“Beck, I can't represent Sela,” he says, and this surprises me. “My duty is to you, and that's a conflict to represent her. But tell me everything from the beginning so I can figure out if this helps you in any way.”

“Doug,” I snarl at him in frustration. “I don't need help. Sela does. I need you to do something.”

And yeah…that last little bit was begging on my part.

He nods at me, holds a finger up, and digs into his pocket. Pulling his phone out, he flips through the contacts and dials someone. When the call is connected he says, “Kerry, Doug Shriver. I've got someone down at Sausalito PD confessing to murder with a self-defense element and is going to need a sharp attorney.”

He listens for a moment and then turns to me to ask, “Assume money is not an object?”

I shake my head. “I'll pay whatever the fees are, as well as bail.”

Putting his mouth to the phone, he says, “You hear that? Good. See you soon.”

When he disconnects, he shoves the phone back into his pocket and says, “You know that story didn't sound plausible. That's going to be hard for her attorney to work with…JT getting that angry with her in his own home and trying to kill her just because she refused to help him out.”

I blow out a heavy breath, scratch at the back of my neck, and look at him intently. “Yeah, well, there's more to it.”

“Such as?”

“JT raped her ten years ago,” I tell him. “She had been drugged and only recently realized who he was when she saw him on TV. She was going to go to the police because DNA was taken in her case, but we wanted him out of The Sugar Bowl first. We had a plan we were trying to follow.”

“Wait a minute,” Doug says holding up a hand. “JT raped both Sela and Caroline?”

“He was a sick fuck, what can I say?”

“But his DNA didn't hit with her rape,” he points out.

“Yeah, well that sort of threw us for a loop in court yesterday,” I grumble. “I haven't really had a chance to talk to Sela about that, but the most logical explanation is that the DNA taken off her was from one of her other attackers. Her memory is spotty from being drugged.”

“Attackers?” Doug asks with disgust.

“Three of them. She thought JT was the one who left the sample behind, but clearly she's wrong. It had to be one of the others.”

“Any chance she's wrong in her ID of him?” he asks hesitantly, but it's something I've asked myself already and I know damn well Sela's wondering the same thing.

I shake my head and tell him adamantly, “No. She clearly remembers his tattoo from that night and it's distinctive. But more than that, he recognized her. As he was choking her, admitted he remembered her from that night. Up until then, we thought JT just didn't recognize her. She had darker hair when they first met a few months ago, but apparently we were wrong.”

“So he came after her because of that,” he posits. “He couldn't take the chance of what she'd do.”

“I'm sure he even figured out we were trying to get him out of the business to clear the way to go to the police,” I tell him. “He knew it was all crumbling down. The gambling debt, me offering a buyout he could barely refuse, and Sela coming into his life again were no coincidence. Honestly, I could even make the argument JT lured her there with the intent to kill her.”

“Now that is something I can finally wrap my head around,” he agrees.

“So it's a good defense, right?” I ask, coming around full circle to the reason I called him here. I get he can't represent her and he has what I'm guessing is a very good attorney on the way. But I need to know.

“It's her word against his,” Doug says. “What evidence does she have to prove what she's saying?”

“She doesn't,” I admit heavily. “The letter opener and clothes she was wearing are gone.”

He holds a hand up. “I don't want to know any more about that. That makes me a potential witness against Sela.”

Shit, fuck, shit.

This has gotten so goddamned complicated, I'm terrified that there's no way out for either of us.

“Beck,” Doug says softly to get my attention. “Sela confessing is not going to make the charges against you go away. You know that, right?”

I nod my acceptance. “I didn't figure it would. It's why I told her not to do it.”

“Well, Kerry Suttenson is a fantastic lawyer. One of the best. She'll do all she can to help Sela. Now I'll certainly make a motion to have the charges against you dismissed, but it's a one-in-a-million shot.”

Before I can respond, the station door opens and Detective Denning sticks her head out and looks at us. “Mr. North, Mr. Shriver, let's talk and I'll fill you in on what's going on.”

We follow her in, where she leads us to a small office that has her name in brass on the outside of the door. We walk in and I'm surprised to see ADA Hammond there, looking polished and like the cat who just ate the canary.

We shuffle into the small space when Denning motions us inside. She doesn't follow us in but rather pulls the door shut so we are left alone with the district attorney.

“I just wanted to let you both know that Miss Halstead is being booked right now on first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder,” she says brusquely. “I'll be amending the charges against Mr. North to also include conspiracy.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, turning to Doug, who doesn't look surprised by this news.

But before he can answer me, Hammond says, “Your girlfriend's cute, Mr. North…thinking that by confessing we'd drop the charges against you. All that tells me is that you were both in on it together, but even if you weren't, we'll let a jury figure it all out.”

I open my mouth to tell that bitch to bite me, but Doug lays a restraining hand on my forearm, which silently tells me to shut the fuck up.

“Miss Hammond, I'm going to enter a temporary appearance as Miss Halstead's attorney, just until her attorney can get here. I'd like to see her immediately and I'll stay with her until Kerry Suttenson can arrive.”

She looks at Doug with amusement but nods. “Sure, Detective Denning will take you to her and I suppose I'll be seeing all of your bright, shining faces tomorrow morning at the arraignment. This should be fun, gentlemen.”

Hammond turns her back on us and I have to restrain myself from leaping onto it, knocking her to the ground, and strangling the breath out of her. I want to pin her down, wrap my hands around that scrawny neck, and choke her until she turns first red, then blue. I want her to fear imminent death and see the look in my eyes that I won't save her, and then I want to bend down and whisper to her,
“You see, bitch. This is what it feels like to be dying. Now tell me that if you had a letter opener in your hand you wouldn't swing it at me right now, just to get one drop of precious oxygen?”

Instead, I merely fantasize about that and watch as she pulls the door shut behind her, giving Doug and me a few moments of privacy.

“So we'll be tried together?” I take a guess.

“Looks that way,” he says. “It's a win-win for them. They get two bites at the apple so to speak, and while they'd be ecstatic to have the jury believe you two were in on it together, they'll be completely satisfied if just one of you is resoundingly convicted.”

“Well isn't that a fucking junk punch,” I say, and then immediately regret the words. Too crass for a refined gentleman like Doug who is working hard to help me.

“I know what you'll probably say, but I do have to throw this out there, Beck. If you took the stand and testified against Sela, the chances would be much better for you.”

“Not going to happen,” I grit out.

“Didn't think so, but I have to give you the advice regardless,” he says kindly. “And I'm sure that won't be the last time I bring it up to you.”

“Duly noted,” I say.

“All right,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “You might as well go home. Sela's not getting out today, but I don't see any reason why Judge Reyes won't grant her the same bail conditions he gave you. So go home, get some money transferred and ready to put down on her, and oh…she'll need something nice to wear tomorrow in court.”

I nod, feeling utterly exhausted and helpless at this moment. Doug opens the door and I follow him out. Denning is waiting and she jerks her head down an opposite hallway for Doug to follow her. I head back to the reception area, out of the police station, and cross the street where I'm parked half a block down.