Before he left City Hall, he double-timed it up to the second floor to see to a minor bother. He’d left Emily Wallace in the holding cell for the last seven hours in hopes that the solitude and her apprehension as to what would happen next might just jolt a little sense into her. She had to stop digging into the past before things got any worse. Her involvement would only give Clint additional motivation for pursuing his quest.
Ray had ordered her car picked up and brought to City Hall. No need to have it impounded. Emily sat up a little straighter as he approached the holding cell. The uncertainty in her eyes told him she wasn’t feeling nearly as brave as she wanted him to believe. He’d checked on her a couple of times; once she’d even fallen asleep sitting on that hard bench. He hated like hell to do this to her, but he couldn’t have folks breaking and entering county-owned property without repercussions. She needed to understand that she’d gone too far. He’d anticipated that move, but he needed it to end now. For her sake and for Clint’s.
Ray unlocked the cell and opened the door. “You can pick up your things at the duty desk. You’re free to go for now.”
She pushed up from the bench spanning the length of the eight-by-twelve cell. “Why?”
Despite the unpleasant task that still lay ahead of him, he chuckled. Emily Wallace, no matter the atrocities life had thrown her way, was still far too naive and kind for her own good. “Most folks don’t ask why when given the opportunity to walk away from jail scot-free.”
Her gaze narrowed the tiniest bit with doubt. “O ... kay.”
Ray exhaled, the fatigue clawing at him. He hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. He didn’t have any idea when he’d last eaten. He was tired. Mostly he was sick to death of lies and secrets and ... murder. Hell, he was as sick of the truth as he was of the deceptions and betrayal.
Emily glanced around as if she expected trouble. When she’d satisfied her misgivings, she stepped out of the holding cell.
“Thank you.” She met his gaze, uncertainty still holding her own hostage. “Am I being charged with anything?”
Ray shook his head. “I will send you the bill for repairing that window though.”
Hesitation slowed her, just long enough for him to recognize that there was more she wanted to say. But she didn’t. She walked away.
“Just one thing,” he said, instantly kicking himself for slowing her retreat. Anything else in the way of advice he offered would be too much, and yet he couldn’t not warn her. When she turned back to him, he urged, “You need to be extremely careful how you proceed from here, Emily. The truth isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”
She had nothing to say to that. Her spine rigid, she pivoted on her heel and strode to the duty desk. He wished he could make her see that things weren’t always what they seemed. He’d learned that the hard way.
46
11:00 a.m.
She followed him from City Hall.
Maybe he was the one making her upset.
Misty was tired of these men having so much power. Tired. Tired. Tired.
She should have done something more about it a long time ago. But she’d thought it was over. Men were the trouble in this world. They made women feel afraid and vulnerable. They cheated on the women they were supposed to love. Started wars. All kinds of atrocities. And they thought they were better at everything.
Not so. She was the one to graduate with the highest honors in high school and from the University of Alabama. None of her male peers had been as brilliant as her. She could have been an engineer. She could have been a great scientist. But she’d chosen teaching to be close to her dearest friend.
Some women’s beauty made them vulnerable to men. They got hurt. Taken for granted.
Well, Misty was tired of watching it happen. She was tired of feeling impotent.
47
11:24 a.m.
Ray couldn’t remember the last time he’d come up here to hunt. Not since his daddy had died eight years ago. Ray never had cared much for hunting, but his daddy had loved the sport. Though he had considered hunting a definite sport, Ray’s old man never targeted anything he didn’t intend to eat. Raymond Hale Sr. had insisted it was the only right way to do it.
Ray had come to this secluded place since then. Recently, in fact. But the visit had nothing to do with hunting. He had metherhere, in this cabin that his daddy and granddaddy had built more than half a century before, to discuss the possibility of Clint Austin’s impending release. She’d been adamant that Ray had to do something to stop the process.
A smile nudged the corners of his mouth upward. He’d reveled in telling her that it was too late. Way too late. She’d just have to deal with it.
In fact, Ray had worked extra hard to ensure that last brief to the appeals court filed by Clint’s lawyer had everything necessary to ensure a new trial was granted. He did this partly to make her life miserable. But mostly he’d done it because it was the right thing to do.
Austin had paid enough ... more than enough. All total by the time the conviction was overturned, he’d spent ten years in that shithole prison.
Ray had hoped that being supportive of Clint and fighting for his freedom would relieve some of the guilt he felt, but it hadn’t.
