“Lights out at ten.” The guard left, walking down the corridor, a few comments from other inmates floating on the air. Looking through the lovely shade of orange bars, to match his outfit maybe, he gritted his teeth. Never in his life had he expected to be in a place like this.
Sighing, he turned and examined the cell. Small. Metal slabs jutted out from the right forming bunk beds, their thin mattresses folded together. Hmm, did he want top or bottom? Another small piece of metal came out on the left with a round pedestal-type bench secured to the floor underneath. Excellent, he had a desk. He could spend the weekend catching up on hiscorrespondence.
Thepiece de resistancewas the lovely metal toilet/sink combo in the back corner of the cell. Peeking closer, he saw it was at least somewhat clean. And damned if he didn’t needto use it now.
The lights flickered then went out. Must be ten. Not that he’d know since they took his watch. But he hadn’t left the police station until after six and they’d lectured to him here for a few hours. At least he’d have a tiny bit of privacy without the glaring lights, although they were still on out inthe cell block.
After taking care of business and thoroughly washing his hands and face, he stood there clenching his fists then shaking them. No towel. Deciding on the bottom bunk, he unfolded the mattress, sniffing it. Not the sweet scent of Heather, that’s for sure.
Heather. Damn. The look on her face as they’d pulled out of the police station had almost gutted him. She’d looked like someone had kicked her puppy. What had she been doing there? Thank God Jack had been there for her. He’d keep an eye out for the woman. She was Callie’s best friend after all. He’d told her he’d call when he was free to go. That plan had gone FUBAR. And wouldn’t happen for more than three days.
But would he even be allowed to go free then? Would the evidence be enough to actually convict him? Why hadn’t he asked for a lawyer when they’d first brought him in? He certainly needed one now. He’d been told one would review his case and meet him at the arraignment on Tuesday. That was comforting. Probably some pimply-faced recent college grad who’d been last in his class and the only job he could get was standing next to low-life criminals, pretendingto defend them.
Sinking onto the thin mattress, he closed his eyes then snapped them open again as a guard strolled by, flipped on the light then peeked in. Sure, he’d get some good sleep tonight with the light streaming in, the constant walking vigil of the guards. The light clicked off as the guard moved tothe next cell.
He settled down again and begged his body to relax. His thoughts turned back to Heather. Her silky skin pressed against his in the Vermont chalet. His mouth skimming over her heated body after the wedding. The moans of ecstasy that escaped her throat as he brought her to the edge.
Shit. Now he was rock hard. And he sure wouldn’t ask anyone around here to help him fix that. Instead he imagined Heather next to him, snuggled tight to his chest, kind of like she’d done at the hotel. He’d never admit to anyone how much he’d enjoyed having her close. For now, though, it might be the only thing tokeep him sane.
* * * *
“Did you get in to see Scott?” Heather rubbed her hands together as she stared intently at Jack.
“No visitors allowed,” he answered,his jaw tight.
“Yeah, that’s the response I got too.” Turning to the counter, she grabbed the plate of cut veggies and moved to the kitchen door.
Drew held it open for her. “When you’re in lock-up waiting for arraignment there’s no leaving your cell. It’s regulations.”
“I hate those regulations.” Placing the food on the picnic table, she turned, taking a deep breath. Scott should be here. His Army buddies had dropped in and he was missing it. Callie had talked about how much Jack relied on his friends, how close they were. Scott was partof this group.
Callie took the plate Jack held out then arranged it on the table. “Charlotte didn’t want to come today, Heather? You did tell her she was invited?”
Sweet Callie, always trying to get her mind off her troubles. “Yes, I told her. She’s got plans with some friends but said thanks.”
“What’s the plan for getting Scott out of this shit storm?” Nick asked, then tipped his bottle of beer, taking a long swallow. The men wanted to stay on the topic of their friend. She couldn’t disagree.
“Not much we can do at this point,” Keith answered. “It’s illegal to interfere with a criminal investigation. He needsa good lawyer.”
Unfortunately, due to the holiday weekend they hadn’t been able to contact one yet.
“Illegal for you law enforcers.” Nick tilted his head at Keith, Drew, and Chris. “But I don’t work for the government or answer to any of them.”
“Do you really not care about getting arrested—or worse, killed—Nick?” Chris asked, his eyes on his wife, who carried more food to the table.
Nick shrugged. “Need to help my friends. That’s more important than myself.”
Heather wondered about their friend, Nick. She’d only met him a handful of times but he seemed like a bit of a rebel. Scott never said too much about Afghanistan but had hinted that something had happened to Nick to make him this dark and reckless. Did Scott have trauma in his past too? War was hell on everyone. Would she ever get the chance to ask him?
“Any plans to help your cousin, Jack?” Nick directed his stare across the table.
Setting Jonathan into a high chair, Jack cut up some of the food on the child-size plate. “I’ve got a call into some friends at the Bureau. They plan to look into this Carla Findley, who Scott supposedly hurt. We’ll see what her background is and who she associates with.”
“You got the woman’s name? Drew wouldn’t give it to me.” She glared at Drew accusingly.
He looked down at his plate and took a deep breath. “I hated not being able to divulge the information but it could cost my job. If Jack discovered it some other way, that’s a different story.”
“I can do a little checking myself,” Chris offered. “Though I can’t dig too deep if she’s not on my caseload, but I can run a general background check.”
