‘Have you arranged legal counsel?’ Jemma asked flatly.
‘No. I’ll cop the punishment.’
Jemma nodded. ‘Owning the misdemeanour is the first step to rehab.’
‘Ethan doesn’t need bloody rehabilitation,’ Hamish flared. ‘He’s been clean for years. Jesus, Ethan, if you were getting rid of the stuff to protect the girls, why didn’t you just toss it out of the window on some backroad?’
Ethan gave him a despairing look. ‘It’s not that easy, mate. Remember what I told you? The drug never lets go. It seduces you. Sometimes you think that just being able to hold it, to look at it, will be enough. So—’ He closed his eyes for a moment, as though hiding his shame. ‘I couldn’t throw it out. Tell you the truth, I was relieved when the cops pulled me over. I didn’t have to make a choice.’
Jemma clamped her lips together, her scowl ferocious. But with his arm pressed against her side, Hamish could feel her tremble. He inconspicuously slid an arm around her waist, loose so he wasn’t controlling her, but firm enough that she knew he was there for her.
‘What was the charge?’ she asked. ‘Basic or aggravated?’
‘It’s not like he tried to resist arrest!’ Hamish blurted. He fully understood Jemma’s reluctance to get involved; but he also knew his mate.
‘Aggravated refers to whether he’s affiliated with a criminal organisation, or acting on their behalf,’ Jemma said.
‘I told you, he’s clean,’ Hamish insisted, since it seemed Ethan had no intention of speaking out in his own defence.
‘Yeah, I got that. Yet he was arrested and charged, so …’ Jemma spread her hands, looking to Ethan as though giving him a chance to defend himself. He remained silent. ‘Obviously, you’ll be in a more defensible position if you’re a user, not a supplier. If you’ve nothing serious in your priors, you’ll be looking at a maximum—and thisis ballpark, not taking into account specifics or circumstances—of two years.’
‘Jail?’ Hamish said. Jemma’s expression was hard, and he was slightly appalled that she seemed unable to show the slightest amount of compassion or understanding.
‘Do the crime, do the time.’ Jemma stared at Tara as she spoke. Then she turned back to Ethan. ‘Of course, if you testify that the drugs weren’t yours, the charges will change.’
Ethan shook his head. ‘Tara still has a chance. I’m not letting her throw that away for one stupid mistake.’
32
Jemma
Jemma brewed a cup of sweet tea while Ethan took a long shower and Hamish ran the other women home, not trusting Charlee, still distraught, to drive. When he rang from the Brennans’ place, saying he’d be a while, Jemma assumed he was filling in Charlee’s dad and grandfather about the issue.
As Ethan emerged from the bathroom, Jemma unspeakingly handed him a steaming mug and headed for the shower herself.
She needed the time to sluice off what felt like filth, to calm her pounding heart rate. She’d judged Ethan unfairly, yet she couldn’t flip to entirely trusting him. Her mother had ripped out any part of her that was naive or empathetic or forgiving: but perhaps that was something she needed to rebuild. She knew that Hamish was disappointed in her reaction to the situation, and that hurt more than she would have thought possible, but her response had been visceral, uncontrollable, despite her carefully chosen words.
By the time she finished in the shower, Ethan had disappeared, the light shining beneath the end bedroom door. She should have said something reassuring, not left him to stew—but until she had concrete information, she was loath to make promises.
Enveloped in one of Hamish’s jumpers, she sat before the embers of the fire, opened her laptop, brought up case law and started making notes. She’d steered away from anything to do with drug use and abuse cases, so she needed a refresher.
By the time Hamish returned, Jemma felt better equipped. Just the sight of him set off funny little quivers deep in her belly, her heart fluttering in a giddy fashion—all of which was perfect, because it supported the decisions she’d made.
‘Okay, I was wrong,’ she announced the moment he walked in the door. He didn’t need to know she’d spent the past couple of hours rehearsing the unfamiliar phrase.
‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,’ Hamish said, one hand behind his ear. ‘Would you mind repeating it?’
‘If that’s what you want me using my mouth for,’ she said, paraphrasing his earlier comment.
He chuckled and, as she rose from the lounge, tugged her into his arms. ‘So just what are you wrong about?’
‘Ethan. You were right—he is one of the good guys.’
‘I knew you’d warm up to him once you got to know him.’
Jemma gave a light laugh. ‘I don’t want to make a habit of doing that—I have a reputation to uphold. But, to be honest, I am kind of tempted to wake him.’
‘To inform him he’s made your shortlist of barely acceptable people? Fair call.’
