Trapped by Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure (18 page)

“I don’t know. At this point it might not be enough.”

My throat got tight, and a chill ran down my spine. “What if that happens to me?” I had to ask. “They have some pretty good evidence that I killed Killpack. They have the gun that killed him with my fingerprints on it, and I was at the scene of the crime close to the time of death. What if I get sentenced to die just like Jim? He’s innocent Chris. He didn’t kill her, and yet he’s going to die for it. That’s just so wrong. But it also means the same thing could happen to me.”

“I will never let that happen,” Chris said, rubbing my arms soothingly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you from going to prison. I’ll even send you somewhere out of the country if I have to. Heck, we’ll all go.” It reminded him of that movie with Russell Crowe where he got his wife out of prison and they escaped across the border together with their kids.

“You’d do that?” I asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “But I don’t think it will come to that. Somebody killed him and we’ll find out who it is. We’ll figure this out.”

Should I tell him that Ramos also offered to take me out of the country too? Hmm… probably not a good idea.

“So what happened today that’s got you upset?” he asked.

I told him all about the ledger and how I went to Killpack’s house with Ramos and found the safe booby-trapped to the house alarm. “It was awful. We barely made it out of there before the police came. Then I got a call from Dimples, asking if I’d broken into Killpack’s house. I told him no and he told me not to leave town and that things looked bad for me.”

From Chris’ thoughts, I knew he was still stuck on the ‘breaking into Killpack’s house with Ramos’ part, so I quickly went on. “Ramos thinks the person who broke into the house before us is the killer who also has the safe-cracking skills of a thief. He’s also probably working for the judge. He must have taken the ledger because it would have had the name of the judge in it. So now Ramos is going to see if he can find out who the thief is from his contacts.”

“Okay… so did you really break into his house?” Chris asked.

“No. Absolutely not! The former secretary had a spare key and she loaned it to us. She broke her leg in an accident. So anyway, we didn’t break in.”

“But you visited the secretary and she loaned you the key?”

“Uh-huh,” I agreed.

“Do the police know that?” He was thinking I was toast.

“No. When Dimples called he thought I’d broken in because a neighbor called the police on account of the alarm going off. So no one’s talked to the secretary about me, and they probably won’t.”

“Why?” This alarmed Chris. “Ramos isn’t going to… you know… take care of her is he?”

“No,” I said, my shoulders drooping in an irritated huff. “Of course not.”

Chris did a mental head-smack. How one person could get into so much trouble astounded him clear to his toes. He should be used to this by now, but it seemed like every time I went anywhere that had to do with Uncle Joey, I wound up either getting shot at, kidnapped, or in this case, accused of murder. It was enough to give him an ulcer. He didn’t see a clear way out of this, and that bothered him more than anything. He was the big-shot lawyer. He was supposed to figure this out and protect me, but things just kept getting worse.

He glanced at me, knowing I’d heard all of that and did another mental head-smack. Now he had to worry that he’d just made me feel worse than I already did. Maybe it would be easier to grab a few things, cash out our savings, and leave the country. It would solve a lot of problems, and we could be happy somewhere else. No Manetto. No murder charges… and no Ramos. Visions of moving to an island somewhere and living like The Robinson Family in a big tree house floated through his mind.

“Christopher,” I said, snapping him out of it. “That’s not helping. Let’s go over the facts. There’s got to be something we can do.”

“The facts… all right,” he said, gathering his thoughts. “You’re innocent. So there’s got to be a way to prove it. Finding the real killer has got to be our number one priority.”

“Right,” I agreed. “Ramos is working on the thief end. Uncle Joey’s been working on the judge end. You’ve been working on the tie-to-Jim end, which actually seems like a dead end right now, and I’ve been working on all the ends.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris agreed, thinking I was grasping at straws with that statement, but I was desperate, so he’d overlook it. “Here’s what we know. We know Killpack was investigating Rebecca Morris’ murder and was probably killed for it. But why you were framed doesn’t make sense. There’s got to be another element we’re missing, and once we figure out what it is, we’ll be that much closer to the killer.”

“Well, that’s easy,” I said, eager to prove I wasn’t as stupid as he thought. “The other element is Uncle Joey. He’s why I went to visit Killpack. So it’s got to have something to do with Uncle Joey, Killpack, Jim, Rebecca, and me. What do we all have in common?”

“I don’t know,” Chris said. His stomach growled, and he thought that maybe if he ate something, he wouldn’t get that ulcer he was sure had to be starting. He wanted to ask what was for dinner, but held back, knowing that would upset me.

Just then, the doorbell rang. “Pizza,” I said. “That’s what’s for dinner.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Great. I’ll go get it.”

I hurried into the kitchen to set the table, but stopped short to hear some loud voices coming from the living room. Was Chris arguing with the poor pizza guy? The plate I held slipped from my fingers and crashed to the floor. The words, “warrant,” and “arrest,” flooded my whole body with fear.

Somehow, Chris managed to keep them outside on the porch, while he hurried toward me. His eyes held a desperate look I’d never seen before. “Don’t worry, Shelby,” he said. “I’ll get you out on bail. If not tonight, at least by tomorrow morning.”

“What? No! Dimples promised he’d call. They can’t be here now. Chris, don’t let them take me.” I couldn’t help it, tears flooded my eyes. I wrapped my arms around him like an anchor, thinking that if I wouldn’t let go, they couldn’t take me anywhere.

“Shelby,” Chris said. “You have to go.” It was killing him to say that, but he needed me to be strong. “They have a warrant. I can’t stop this from happening. But you can do this. I’ll be right behind you. I’ll follow you to the station. You won’t be there alone, I promise.”

“Okay,” I said. “Please tell the kids… I didn’t do it… and make sure they’re okay before you come.”

“I will,” he promised.

A loud pounding on the door sent shards of panic through me, but I didn’t want to make a scene in front of my kids. I moved toward the door clutching Chris for support, hoping my kids didn’t come in to see what was going on. If I took one look at them I knew I would lose it, and right now I couldn’t let that happen.

Chris pulled open the door and I stepped out, not too surprised to see Detective Bates standing there. I only knew the other detective in passing, but at least he had the sense to hang his head a little when I glanced at him.

Detective Bates took my arm and slapped a handcuff on my wrist, pulling both arms behind me. “You have the right to remain silent…” he began. I glanced at Chris as they tugged me away.

“Don’t say a word without me there,” Chris called.

“I won’t, but you’d better call Uncle… my uncle,” I said. “He’s got friends. Promise me you’ll call him.”

Chris didn’t want to. He was thinking he’d be damned if he called the person responsible for all this. But another glance at me convinced him that it was something he needed to do. He knew Manetto had connections he could only dream of.

“Chris!” I called.

“I will,” he said.

Chapter 11

They opened the back door to the police cruiser and pushed me inside. Detective Bates even leaned over and attached my seat belt. He was thinking that he had to play this by the book or I’d get off on a technicality, and he didn’t want that to happen. He was pretty sure I was guilty, and as long as he didn’t look at me, he was convinced he’d done the right thing.

I sniffed, trying to keep from crying, and focused my energy on listening to Bates. The other detective felt guilty as hell, and so did Bates a little. That’s why he kept going over the evidence in his mind and couldn’t help the small doubt that it was enough. He hoped he hadn’t jumped the gun. He probably should have gotten a search warrant for my computer and cell phone first, just to be sure of the connection to the murder. But dammit, with all the evidence against me, he couldn’t stand the thought of not arresting me. The only bad part was knowing Harris was going to flip. But seriously, Harris shouldn’t be involved in this case anyway.

His thoughts circled around like this for the entire ride downtown to the station. By then, I had calmed down enough to know there were still some big holes in his theory about my guilt. He really wanted to question me and decided to put me in the interrogation room for a chat before booking me, just in case he could goad me into saying something. But he’d have to do it quick before my husband got there.

We arrived at the station and drove to the back through a chain link fence where I’d never been before. This was the ‘prisoner’ entrance, and Bates parked the car near the door and quickly got out. He unbuckled my seat belt and helped me out. He had decided to be as gentle as possible and show me some respect. That way I’d be more inclined to confide in him.

“I’m really sorry to bring you in like this,” he began. “I know it’s probably a big shock, but we’ll make this as easy as possible. I’m the first to admit I’d hate to go through this, but don’t you worry, we’ll make sure you’re comfortable until we get things straightened out.”

He expected me to tell him thanks, so when I didn’t say anything, he frowned and caught my gaze with a questioning glance. I knew I should probably tell him thanks just to play along, but I wasn’t feeling very charitable toward him and kept my mouth shut instead.

He marched me past the intake door and into an interrogation room. “Let me get those cuffs off,” he said. I turned around so he could undo the handcuffs and automatically rubbed my wrists after they came off.

“Here, take a seat.” He pulled out a chair for me and after I was seated, sat down across the table from me. “We know you were there when Sam Killpack died,” he began.

“We found your gun in the bathroom covered with your fingerprints. Ballistics came in showing that it was the murder weapon. You were there at the time of his death. I’m thinking if the secretary hadn’t come in when she did, you would have been long gone, but since she did, the evidence is overwhelming that you’re the one who pulled the trigger. I know this looks bad, but I can promise that if you tell us what you know and cooperate; we can reduce the sentence from murder to possible manslaughter.”

Did he really think I’d go along with that? I frowned, but kept my mouth shut.

“Think about your family,” he continued. “A long trial could be very difficult on your kids. You can spare them the trauma and receive a reduced sentence by cooperating fully with us. Let’s put this to bed and let Sam rest in peace.”

His arrogance was starting to get on my nerves. I still didn’t say anything, so he changed tactics. Even though I knew it was coming I still jerked a little when he slapped his hands on the desk. Then he lunged dramatically to his feet and leaned forward to tower over me. “Shelby! Don’t you understand? If you don’t cooperate you’re looking at the death sentence!”

“Um… could I get a glass of water, please?” I asked.

He slapped the table again and turned to face to wall, letting out an exasperated huff, and rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t about to get me a glass of water, or anything else until I spoke to him. He checked his watch and figured he had at least three more minutes before someone came looking for me.

“What I don’t understand is why you did it. Why did you kill him? Did he have something on you that you didn’t want him to expose? What was it? An affair?” He was watching me close to see if I’d flinch or something so he’d know if he hit a nerve. “A woman like you probably has a lot of admirers.” His gaze raked over me in a way that made my skin crawl, and I was starting to get mad. A woman like me? If that was supposed to be a compliment, he’d sure screwed that up.

“Did he ask for money to keep it quiet?” He knew this probably wasn’t true since they hadn’t found a single money trail linking me to Killpack. “If he was bribing you, I can understand why you’d shoot him. It was probably the only way to keep your secret safe. Too bad that secretary came back when she did and spoiled everything.”

I didn’t think three minutes had passed, but I was sure ready to be done. He leaned across the table toward me and took a deep breath. “If you don’t tell me now, you’ll never get another chance. The DA will make mincemeat out of you in court. I’d hate to see that happen. Just tell me what you know. If you’re innocent, what you tell me will help me prove it, and we can move on to another suspect.” That last part was a lie. There were no other suspects. That’s why it had to be me.

He pinned his gaze on me and wouldn’t stop, wanting me to squirm under his watchful eye. All at once the door flew open, and Dimples strode in. “Shelby!” His tone was relieved, but angry. Then his gaze slid to Bates. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just asking a few questions,” Bates replied. He knew he’d pushed the limits of his authority, but he wasn’t about to back down.

“I’m in charge of this investigation, and you’re way out of bounds to arrest her. We’re nowhere near ready to present a case against her.”

“That’s not what the prosecuting attorney’s office thought,” Bates smugly replied. “I presented the evidence to him, and a judge signed off on a warrant for Shelby’s arrest. Now if you’ll excuse us, I’m taking her straight to booking.”

Bates roughly grabbed my arm and jerked me to my feet, practically dragging me across the floor to the door. Dimples stood in his way. “Let go of her,” he growled. “Now.” Bates didn’t back down and clutched my arm even tighter. He thought he had a good case against me, especially since it was a prosecuting attorney who’d first contacted him. He had the DA’s office on his side. That was huge.

Without taking his gaze from Bates, Dimples said, “Shelby, if you want to press charges for police brutality against this man, I will be happy to stand as a witness.”

At that, Bates dropped my arm, and I rubbed it where he’d squeezed. It hurt, and I thought I might get bruises. “Thanks. I probably will.”

Bates stared daggers at Dimples, thinking he was blinded by his friendship with me. “I’ve already made a request to have you removed from the case. You’re too close to this, Harris. And making a threat like this just proves it.”

“Whatever, man. This is still my case, and I’m taking Shelby to booking. So get out of my way.”

I backed away from Bates, just in case he was tempted to grab me again. He glanced at me, thinking I’d brainwashed Harris and the whole police department. Good thing he was able to think clearly. “Fine,” he shrugged, “As long as she’s booked, who cares?”

He walked out of the room and I sighed with relief. Dimples motioned with his head and I followed him into the hallway. “Thanks,” I whispered. “He’s a little scary.”

“Yeah,” Dimples agreed. “Shelby, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Dimples shook his head and sighed, thinking it was not okay. Nothing about this was okay. How did he not know what Bates was up to? How did Bates manage to go behind his back and get a warrant? What the hell was going on?

“The DA’s office contacted him, not the other way around,” I said.

Dimples glanced at me sharply, but before I could explain, we’d reached booking. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “But I’ll be right here until you’re done.”

I didn’t get a chance to say anything to him before I was told to remove all my valuables. The only real thing of value I had on was my wedding ring, and I didn’t want to take it off, but there was nothing I could do about it. With a broken heart I wrenched it off my finger and watched the officer seal it up in an envelope and put it away.

Next, a female officer took me into another room to be searched and get my picture taken. Because of my work consulting with the police, they already had my fingerprints on file, so I didn’t have to do that again. But getting my mug shot was totally humiliating, and I understood why no one ever smiled. In all the mug shots I’d ever seen, the people usually looked sad, angry, or guilty, so I was bound and determined to smile, just to show them I wasn’t a real criminal.

The officer taking my picture barely waited for me to stand in the right place before she snapped the picture, and I had to smile real quick just to get it in. It surprised her, and she was thinking no one had ever smiled in their mug shot before. I even smiled in the side shot too, and she couldn’t figure me out. I was so nice and gracious that by the time she got done with me, she believed I couldn’t be guilty of whatever I was charged with. It gave me hope that I could get through this.

Finally finished, they took me back out to the hall where Dimples was still waiting for me. I breathed easier to see him, grateful that he was taking such good care of me. Then I heard him thinking that this was the bad part, and it broke him up inside to have to take me to a holding cell and lock me up. He didn’t know if I’d ever forgive him, and worried that I would think he thought I was guilty when he was just doing his job.

I took a deep breath and waited for him to look me in the eyes. “Now what?” I asked.

“I have to take you to a holding cell, but you shouldn’t be there long. Your husband has contacted us, and he’s trying to find a judge who can set bail so you can get out of here.”

“How long does that usually take?” I asked.

He was thinking that it would take a minor miracle to find a judge at this time of day, and that I’d probably end up spending the night. Plus the amount the judge set might be so high that getting the money together could take a while. “Um… it all depends, but hopefully in a couple of hours. They just have to find a judge. Normally there is a set amount for bail, but since this is a major offense, they have to get a judge involved.” He was thinking murder was a whole different ball of wax.

“But they will set bail for me, right?” I asked. He was making me worried that I’d never get out. Images of me in an orange jumpsuit sitting behind bars for any amount of time made my breath hitch and my chest get tight. It was even hard to swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.

“Yes, of course. It’s required by law.” He led me down the hallway toward the holding cells, and my heart started to pound. I was actually going to be put in a jail cell? This was horrible! This could possibly be the most horrible thing that had ever happened to me. It could change my life forever. Even though I was innocent, people would think bad things about me, and worse, I’d be able to hear them! They’d be thinking things like, ‘there goes Shelby Nichols, the woman arrested for murder,’ and it wouldn’t matter that I was innocent, they’d just remember the ‘arrested for murder’ part.

“Shelby?” Dimples stopped, noticing that I wasn’t right behind him like I should be. “Come on.”

My feet seemed stuck to the floor, and I had a sudden memory of when I was in fourth grade and two sixth graders had threatened to take me to the principal’s office. I had refused to budge and they each grabbed an arm and started dragging me down the hall. After a while, with all my pulling and my feet sliding on the linoleum floor, I got heavy, so they just dropped me there and left me alone. Too bad something like that wouldn’t work this time or I’d probably do it.

With my white face and frightened eyes, Dimples could tell I was having a hard time taking the next few steps to the cell. He hadn’t wanted to physically help me along, but he couldn’t see a way around it. He came back and put my arm through his like a gentleman. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

I whined just a little, and his brows drew together. “Just think of this like a waiting room,” he cajoled. “You’ve been stuck in waiting rooms before, right? That’s all this is. You can do that.”

I let out my breath. “Okay. Sure.” His waiting room analogy was terrible. He must have forgotten the part about what happened after the wait, which was lots worse than the waiting. So it didn’t help me at all.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned on him a little for support and made it the last few steps into the cell. As the doors clanged shut, I panicked. “Just don’t forget about me down here. I’ve heard stories where people get locked up, and everyone goes home and just leaves them there. In the dark. For days.”

“Nothing like that will happen,” Dimples said. “I promise.”

I tried not to fall apart completely. Or grab the bars and shake them like a crazy person. Mostly since he was also thinking I might be here all night long, but that wasn’t so bad, and I’d survive.

Since he wasn’t the one getting locked up, it was easy for him to think that. Still, I tried to be agreeable. “Yeah. Okay. Fine. Thanks.” I smiled, but from his thoughts, I knew it came out more like a scared grimace.