Falling for His Suspect Page 4

  “Because I know that Josh didn’t do this. And I also know that he and I aren’t enough this time. If Heidi is losing it to this point—willing to see her sweet baby go to Child Protective Services just to hurt Josh—there’s no telling what she’ll do. Giving her a voice, as the prosecutor has now done by charging Josh, gives her a strength she’s never had before. Josh and I have been fighting her illness for years. We know her. We know the signs. But this is bigger than just us now. With her having support of the system, we’re going to need professional help to stop her. None of us are safe until she’s exposed as the liar she is.”

  He heard her passion. But he’d learned through his years with Liv that passion didn’t always come from a place of truth. Sometimes it was born of other emotions, like fear. And versions of facts that, while believed by the speaker, weren’t always as real as they seemed in the moment.

  “I know that somewhere there is evidence that will prove Josh’s innocence and show Heidi for who she really is. You’re the one doing the investigating. You have the authority to go places and ask questions we can’t. You’re the one with the prosecutor’s ear. We need your help,” she told him.

  His gut dropped like lead.

  Another woman asking for empathy. Greg didn’t tell her he wasn’t her guy. That his ex was proof that he’d been grossly shorted in the empathy department.

  To the contrary, he let her believe that he’d comply with her request. He needed her cooperation.

  He’d keep an open mind, follow whatever theories presented themselves, because that was what he always did. He did not want a preconceived ending. But she was asking for more than that. She wanted him to prove her brother’s innocence.

  And Greg believed, without doubt, that her brother was guilty. Not because Heidi had played him, but because she hadn’t. There’d been no needy plea for sympathy when they’d met. She’d looked him in the eye and spoken with conviction.

  Heidi Taylor loved her ex-husband.

  And he’d physically hurt her.

  * * *

  Grabbing a sweater off the back of a chair, slipping into it, Jasmine followed Greg toward the front door.

  She had to tell her brother not to give up. That they had someone on the inside willing to look for the truth. Bella’s existence made him more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. Heidi knew that and was determined to kick him in the knees. Over and over again.

  Josh had been through so much, had stayed strong and rock-solid through most of it. He didn’t deserve any part of what Heidi was handing out. He’d loved the woman faithfully. Had put up with years of growing abuse—would have continued to do so if she hadn’t turned on Bella.

  “He chose Bella over her,” she said aloud as the detective, reaching for the front doorknob, turned back to her. “That’s why she’s doing this. He put up with her abuse, loved her through it, until she turned on Bella. It’s eating her alive, that his loyalty switched from her to someone else. That he’d protect someone else over her. She’ll do whatever it takes to get her away from him.”

  Even at the toddler’s expense. Heidi’s own child.

  Greg had said he wanted the truth. That he’d listen to it, look for other theories. This wasn’t just a theory. It was the only truth. “She’s jealous of her own daughter.”

  It was up to Jasmine to help Josh. She’d been shown the way.

  The big man in her hallway wasn’t the least bit intimidating as he met her gaze. “I need to hear about the past. Everything you can tell me. I need the whole picture.”

  “Of course.” It wasn’t a smiling moment. She felt like smiling anyway. She’d been given a way to make things right.

  His long look settled her nerves even more. “I know you have to get your sitter back, but can you make some time tomorrow?”

  “I’m out of class at three. Bella can play at the daycare until five.”

  “You’re all right with that? Being apart from her that long?”

  The question was odd. Had her studying him for a second, as though she should be on guard.

  “I just...don’t want to make things harder on you,” he said. “With her being newly separated from her father and all.”

  Right. He’d been being thoughtful. She had to watch her trust issues or she was going to blow this.

  “I have lunch with her,” she told him anyway. Just in case he’d been questioning her care for her niece. As though she’d be willing to just brush the toddler off, leave her in the company of others during this trying time in her life. And then, to assure him that his demand on her time wasn’t going to be a detriment to either her or Bella, she added, “And it’s not all that uncommon for Bella to spend a few days with me. Each time, she always goes to the daycare at the Stand. I keep her any time Josh has a late meeting or needs to be overnight in LA or farther afield on business. That’s why she has a room here.” She motioned behind her. “And the people at The Lemonade Stand...we’re all family. And Maddie works at the daycare and she’s taken Bella on as one of her own.”

  Detective Greg Johnson was watching her, standing there in his light gray suit like he had all kinds of authority.

  Which he did.

  And he’d made a deal with her. At the moment, he was their hope.

  While she stood there babbling out of both sides of her mouth. In case she could trust him, and in case she couldn’t.

  Time to get a grip. Josh had been the strong one for her so many, many times in their lives. It was time for her to carry the weight for both of them.

  Her brother was one of the good guys.

  No way she was going to let him fall now.

  * * *

  Greg almost sent someone else to meet with Jasmine at The Lemonade Stand the next day. Almost. The woman was getting to him, but sending someone else would require him to admit that he wasn’t up to the task. That he wasn’t able to do his job.

  So he showed up. In suit and tie—lighter brown this time, short-sleeved tan shirt on under his jacket, brown dress shoes shined. He’d shaved just after six that morning, in the shower after his workout, but by three the growth was shadowing his jaw again. He chose not to do anything about that.

  While Greg had worked with the High-Risk Team—a group of professionals who pooled knowledge and information to help prevent domestic violence deaths—it was the first time he’d ever actually been to this shelter. Hidden as it was between the cliffs and ocean and the innocuous street of shops that fronted it—shops that he knew were all owned by the Stand’s founder and there to service its clients with everything from computer training to jobs—The Lemonade Stand wasn’t hard to miss unless you knew what you were looking for.

  He knew to take the mostly hidden drive into the nondescript parking lot that fronted a single, plain door giving entrance to a small, plebeian reception area. He’d been told to wait there—the only unrestricted area—for someone to come get him.

  He’d been cleared for entrance onto the grounds of the shelter, but clearance didn’t give him access. And he was ten minutes early.

  There were a few seats along one wall. Plastic chairs with metal legs. His chose to explore further while he waited. Generic linoleum. Plain walls. He made a second pass. Noticed the same crack in the wall on the third time by, too. His legs needed a little stretching after being boxed up in his vehicle—a blue SUV purchased expressly because he could push the seat back far enough to drive comfortably.

  So...he had energy to expel. And another seven minutes to wait. To not think about the woman who’d been on his mind most of the previous night. And a good part of the current day, too.

  Stood to reason—his mind always got wrapped up in whatever case he was working, and hers was the current one. One of them. It wasn’t like a first offense, a noninvasive domestic charge that the prosecutor was willing to plead out, needed his full day’s attention.

  Jasmine Taylor was the one who’d upped the stakes on this one. Challenging him to keep an open mind. As though he wouldn’t always do so.

  That thought was an irritating sting inside of him, warning him about getting complacent. About going for the obvious. About believing without complete proof.

  As a prosecutor he’d been forgiven for doing so. Had even, at times, been expected to trust without all the evidence.

  Which was why he was no longer a prosecutor and was a cop instead.

  And also why he could never just believe someone without proof.

  Heidi Taylor had proof. More than just a photo.

  Jasmine had been right about that freckle. But the doctor’s report specified an approximate time of injury, not just based on the patient’s visit, but on the level of discoloration. Of swelling. His estimation—a scientific report the doctor had testified to in court—put the injury at a time that Heidi claimed to have been with Josh. A time when she most definitely had not been at the gym. At least not officially. Members had to get in and out with an ID card. Heidi’s hadn’t been used within the doctor’s twenty-four-hour window. Which didn’t mean definitively that Heidi was telling the truth.

  But Greg had spoken with the doctor that morning. Had that opinion verified. Firsthand. Face-to-face.

  He’d told Jasmine Taylor he’d get the facts.

  And now she was going to give them to him, too. That was the deal. He was sorry that she was going to have to testify, at least to him, against her brother, but that wasn’t his fault. Preventing further abuse lay on him, and he was going to get the job done.

  Heidi had admittedly abused her husband—physically and verbally—in the past. And she’d lost control and had shaken her daughter. She’d
told him all of it without him even pressing her. But she’d been through counseling and continued to go. She was healthy and wanting to be a part of her daughter’s life again, and Josh Taylor was trying to prevent that from happening—by abusing his wife. If the man didn’t get help, chances were he’d one day strike out at his daughter, too. Maybe not until she was a little older, until she tested him, pushed him too far...

  Of course, Heidi could be manipulating Greg—but the prosecutor and the judge, too? “Detective Johnson?”

  The voice, coming from a speaker near a heavy locked door, was not Jasmine’s. The door opened, and a fiftyish-looking woman in a pair of blue pants with a matching jacket and blue leather flats stood there. “I’m Lila McDaniels Mantle, managing director of the Stand. Jasmine’s running a couple of minutes late,” she said.

  While he’d never seen Mrs. McDaniels Mantle in person, he’d been hearing about her for years. She’d taken on a benefactor’s idea—to create a haven for abused women and children to heal, under the theory that victims of domestic violence already felt so ugly inside that treating them physically well was a basic component to speeding up the healing process—and made the idea a huge success. The numbers of women who left the Stand to lead successful lives, as opposed to those who fell back into victimhood, were far greater than the state’s norm.

  “I’m happy to wait,” he told her, taking stock of the smallish woman.

  “No, I’ll take you down,” she said, and while her tone was soft, Greg didn’t feel like he had much choice but to follow her. “I told Jasmine the two of you could use my private suite for your conversation,” Lila said as she showed Greg through a doorway and then another pass-coded entry and down a hall. She moved too quickly for him to get much more than a glimpse of many of the rooms he passed—some with open doors, some not. Some larger community areas with several family room–like seating areas. A library. A big cafeteria area. A few women passed, some in pairs, some alone. None of them met his gaze or offered a greeting of any kind.

  The lack of friendliness was a bit off-putting. Until he gave himself a mental shake—with a little berating on the side—and realized that the women in these hallways were most likely victims. Almost surely victims since they weren’t wearing The Lemonade Stand shirts he caught glimpses of on three different women in a couple of different rooms. Logic would follow that a man in their midst could very well make them uncomfortable.

  And a man of his stature...

  Walking beside Lila McDaniels Mantle, he hadn’t felt so big—the woman had a way of taking control and seeming much larger than her size—but Greg suddenly felt like hunching his shoulders a bit. Needing to make himself smaller.

  The managing director didn’t speak to him at all—didn’t give him any kind of tour as she hurried him through the halls and toward a door marked with her name. But she smiled at every single woman in their midst—not seeming put out at all by those whose eyes never rose from the floor.

  “You can wait for her here,” Lila McDaniels Mantle said, showing him to a conversation area in her office. “She’ll take you through to the suite when she gets here.”

  The woman was matter-of-fact. Not friendly, but not at all unfriendly, either. Because she wasn’t sure she could trust him?

  On Jasmine’s behalf, she was probably right. Because he had every intention of using the woman to get her brother’s conviction.

  But it was the right thing to do. Surely, Lila would see that. Want that. An abuser held accountable. For Jasmine’s sake, even. As hard as it would be for her to have to admit the truth about her brother—in the long run, she’d be better off with him either healthy or serving time. That was the idea here—to prevent domestic violence from happening.

  Against Heidi. And Bella. And Jasmine, too.

  “I’m watching out for her,” he told the director as she took her purse out of a drawer.

  “She thinks you are.” Mrs. McDaniels Mantle held his gaze with a steady stream that didn’t falter. He sensed her warning, whether through the look, or something else he didn’t know. “Josh Taylor saved his sister’s life. And every day his work, his personal efforts, are saving hundreds of lives in this state.”

  “I’m aware of his work. Of Play for the Win.”

  He was doing his job. Doing it well. And felt guilty as hell for some reason that was baffling the hell out of him. And kind of pissing him off, too.

  The director looked as though she had more to say. But shook her head and went for the door. “I’m very late for lunch with my husband,” she said. And then stopped, turned back, came to rest directly in front of him.

  “We all have jobs to do,” she said, seeming to choose her words carefully. “And lives to save,” she added. “The key is to figure out whom to save.”

  He was going to save them all. Or as many as came into his circle of influence.

  “And you do that by figuring out why you’re saving any of them at all.”

  He wasn’t following. Frowned. Wished he’d remained standing. The woman was nothing like he’d imagined her.

  And everything like he had.

  “Why you?” she said to him. “Not why should lives be saved. Why should you be the one saving this particular life?”

  What the hell...?

  Greg stood, not sure he was going to bother with a response, or even stick around and wait for his appointment. He was in some frickin’ twilight zone. Definitely not a place for a guy like him who didn’t understand needy women well enough on a good day.

  His mother was about the only woman he ever got. She was a rock. Happy. Capable. Always there. Always ready. And friends from high school, college, even the prosecutor’s office. Women who understood there were boundaries, and respected them, too.

  Women with reasonable expectations...

  “Oh, Lila, I’m so sorry I made you even later...”

  The voice was fresh air blowing into a confined space. Something a little more normal. Definitely expected.

  “Jasmine,” he said, feeling as though he’d known her for a lot longer than a day, judging by how familiar she seemed to him. How glad he was to see her there. “If now’s a bad time, we can set up something else...”

  He couldn’t get the offer out fast enough. He’d heard the resort was acres and acres of lush beauty with a beach and ocean below. Sacred gardens. Woods. Lovely bungalows. That reality and his current one didn’t mesh. At all.

  “No.” Jasmine met his gaze. “I’m ready. Just had a new student come in this afternoon, and I wanted to make sure he felt comfortable and wouldn’t dread coming back to us in the morning,” Jasmine continued as Lila McDaniels Mantle, with one more glance at Greg, told Jasmine she was happy to help anytime and then said goodbye.

  Leaving Greg feeling relieved.

  And like Jasmine Taylor had just saved him from a fate worse than failing.

  Chapter 5

  Meeting him at The Lemonade Stand had not been the best choice. The second she saw Greg Johnson standing there in Lila’s office, she’d recognized her mistake. The Stand was her safe place. A little haven in the world where warm fuzzies were free to roam at will.

  They now roamed right over to the detective. She wasn’t going to fall for him. Wasn’t even going to entertain the idea of feeling safe with him, either.

  He was there on business. And while his business was incredibly personal to her heart and happiness, he wasn’t included in the heart part.

  Wanting to lead him straight out to the parking lot, to have their meeting standing on the curb if need be, she thought of Bella and straightened herself out. She wasn’t a vulnerable young woman anymore, looking for someone to be her partner through life, to share the ups and downs, to love her like no one else ever could.

  She was a grown woman who’d learned the hard way that she was better off living alone, loving those who needed it most. And trusting Josh to have her back.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she let them both into the private suite behind Lila’s office. “Lila always has tea on hand.”

  The living quarters were small, and yet, a place where Jasmine could picture herself being perennially happy. With the rose-colored wing-back chairs made of the finest silk and claw-footed end table, the antique china in a hutch, silk roses in a solid crystal vase, and pictures of faraway places on the walls, she always felt like she could lose yourself to joy in that room. The small adjoining kitchen with table and chairs, and the separate bedroom, were decorated with equal combinations of feminine opulence and whimsy.