Let Justice be done.
The tattoo on Mace’s chest made sense now but I wondered if I would ever be able to consider it beautiful again. And then I realized the direction of my thoughts. Did I even want to see it again?
“What did you find on me?” I managed to ask.
Mace motioned to a large manila envelope sitting in the middle of the table that I hadn’t even noticed. I noticed that my fingers shook as I reached for it.
The first few pages I skimmed after I’d removed everything from the envelope contained basic information about me as well as my lease on the gallery. Next were several pictures of me but they weren’t any I remembered someone taking. I finally realized they were surveillance pictures and most had been taken while I was doing inconsequential things like getting coffee or buying groceries. Except the last one.
The last one was a mug shot of me. I was holding up some kind of board that showed it was for the Boston Police Department andthere was a date and a bunch of numbers beneath it. It was dated a year earlier.
“What is this?” I croaked. “I’ve never been arrested,” I stammered. “The only time I was ever in Boston since my parents kicked me out was when Devlin’s plane had to divert there because of weather.”
“From Paris, you mean?” Mace asked.
I nodded and then realized the date of that flight was within a few days of the date on the board the picture version of me was holding.
“My finger…” I whispered as I looked at the mug shot more closely. “I’d flown in for Casey’s birthday and I cut my finger while I was helping her in the barn. I had to get stitches,” I said as I lifted my finger to show off the scar on the outside of my pointer finger. “There aren’t any stitches in this picture,” I said as I flipped the photo to show them.
“Someone doctored it,” Mace muttered.
“What…what was the arrest for?” I asked even though the question sounded odd even to my own ears.
“The cops were looking for the man who kidnapped a nine-year-old boy whose body has never been found.”
It was little consolation that Mace didn’t refer to me as the one the cops were supposedly looking at. I flipped to the next page and then covered my mouth when I saw the images of four little boys looking back at me. They were all the kinds of pictures kids had taken at their schools. I felt like I was going to be sick as I skimmed the names written along the bottom of each picture. The page right after the pictures listed each boy’s statement and as I began reading the first one, I felt my stomach roll violently as I saw my first name listed when the boy was asked if he knew the name of the person who’d hurt him.
The nausea was so intense that I knocked the chair over in my attempt to get up and find a bathroom. I managed to make it to the half bath I’d spied near the front hallway but all that came up were the few sips of coffee I’d taken and then I was dry heaving. A hand settled on my back and then handed me a dampened washcloth.
“I’m okay,” I said, my throat burning as I spoke. It was Cole who was standing behind me watching me with concern but then he nodded and pulled some mouthwash from a small cabinet next to the sink and left the bathroom. I splashed some cold water on my face and rinsed out my mouth with the mouthwash before I returned to the kitchen. The stack of pages was still on the table in front of my chair but all the boys’ statements had been set aside and turned over.
I kept my eyes glued to the pages in front of me as I returned to my righted chair because I didn’t want to know what Mace and Cole thought of me for my pathetic show of weakness. But all of that fled my mind as I began reading the first few lines on the nondescript page.
I need you, Devlin. I need to taste you, to feel you inside of me. Can you sneak away tonight? --Jonas
Revulsion went through me and I let out a hoarse shout and shoved the offensive papers away from me.
“Who did this?” I yelled as I stood up and tried to get a hold of myself but the fury kept rolling off me in waves. I lashed out at anything in my path and that meant several mugs sitting on the kitchen counter went flying, their contents spraying over the white cabinets. Seeing the destruction actually made me want more, and I began grabbing up every dish I could find and throwing it against the wall.
When Cole’s arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning me so I couldn’t move, I struggled violently against him for several long seconds but he was too strong. When the rage finally started to seep out of me, I could feel Cole’s warm breath against my ear as he spoke.
“We’re going to figure this out, Jonas. I promise you.”
“Devlin’s one of the best men I know, Cole. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“We’ll prove it’s a lie, Jonas. This will never touch Devlin or Casey.”
I managed a nod. “I need to take a break,” I whispered. “Can I go outside?”
“Just stay in sight of the house, okay?” Cole said gently. When he released me, I bent down to start cleaning up the mess I’d made but Cole grabbed my wrist and said, “I’ll take care of it.” My skin automatically tingled where he touched me and I remembered the sweet kiss he’d brushed over my lips. I wanted another one but I didn’t know how to ask for it. Hell, I didn’t even know if Cole was gay.
But Cole must have seen something in the way I looked at him because he leaned down and sealed his mouth over mine. The kiss was still relatively tame since he only lingered for a moment but I felt it in my bones.
Just like Mace’s…
At the reminder, I glanced over to the table to see if Mace had witnessed the kiss but he was gone. I cast Cole another look and then left the kitchen. I only went as far as the porch because I was too afraid to wander away from the house despite my intense desire to escape this whole situation. I sat on the porch swing that hung from two long chains. The rocking motion very quickly became soothing, and I finally took the deep breath I felt like I’d been holding from the moment Cole had pointed the rifle at Mace the night before.
My anger with Mace had started to ease after seeing the so called proof he had against me. Both the mugshot and emails looked so real that I wondered how many people would have known they were fakes. I knew the answer…only the people who really knew me would know I wasn’t capable of something like that. And that translated to Casey and Devlin. Because I’d never let anyone else close enough to know me.
