Читать книгу Tempted By The Badge - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 14

Women crying didn’t faze Mingus one way or the other. Truth be known, he’d probably made more than his fair share sob. But Joanna crying had him feeling some kind of way and he was having a hard time reconciling that feeling with rational thought.

The technician installing her ankle monitor had left an hour earlier, ensuring the new device was transmitting a radio frequency signal with the location to the receiver and from the receiver to the service center. If Joanna breached the permitted range, the police would be notified of her whereabouts.

Despite her best efforts to not let her emotions show, they were written all over her face, the wealth of it puddled in the water that clouded her dark eyes. She was angry and frustrated. She was also hurt, unable to fathom how anyone could ever believe she could do something so foul. She cried when she thought no one was looking and Mingus couldn’t stop staring.

He stood against the pantry door in her kitchen, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He watched as Simone and Joanna made an earnest effort to prep the evening meal, both pretending like nothing had happened. His sister was tossing ingredients for a large garden salad into a glass bowl. Joanna stood at the stove stirring a simmering brew of meat sauce in a cast-iron pot. Pasta boiled in a second pot on the other burner. Joanna was going through the motions, pretending to be okay when she really wasn’t. She was broken and just barely holding it together. He found himself wondering how long it would take her to snap, betting that she was probably not far from her breaking point.

Joanna’s parents sat at the kitchen table, visibly shaken by the news. Their frustration painted the walls a dank shade of blue as they peppered their daughter with questions she wasn’t able to answer.

“I just don’t understand,” Lillian Barnes was saying, her silver-gray hair waving with each shake of her head. “How can this boy say those things about you?”

“Boys lie,” Vincent Barnes snapped. “Young boys lie all the time. You’ve taught enough of them to know that.”

“Some tell little white lies about losing their homework. This is something totally different. Did you do something to lead this boy on, Joanna?”

“Of course not,” Joanna snapped. “Why would you ask me that?” She’d spun around to stare at her mother, her hand fastened around a wooden spoon. “You know I’d never do anything like that!”

Joanna’s father stood from the table, moving to stand between his daughter and her mother. “Calm down. Both of you. Joanna, your mother didn’t mean anything. She’s just concerned about you. We both are.” His gaze moved from his daughter to his wife. “You know better than most that kids these days are a whole other breed. It’s not like when we started teaching. These kids will manipulate the truth faster than you can blink.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense to me,” her mother persisted. “Clearly there had to be something she either said or did to give him the impression...”

Joanna’s tears had risen for an encore, her sobs stalling her mother’s words. She was visibly shaking, her last respite of calm exploding with a vengeance. She suddenly excused herself, slamming the spoon onto the counter before sweeping out of the kitchen toward the master bedroom at the rear of the house.

The matriarch stood abruptly, calling after her. “Joanna!”

Mingus suddenly stepped forward, an outstretched palm stalling them all in their tracks. “Give her a minute,” he said softly, his gaze sweeping from one to the other. His eyes rested on his sister last, something he couldn’t say aloud causing him to lift his brows.

He shifted his attention toward Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. “Joanna really can’t discuss the case with any of you,” he said. “She’ll be better once she gets a good night’s sleep.”

Mr. Barnes shook his head. “I think we’re going to go. We’ll call to check on our daughter later.”

“Are you sure?” Simone questioned. “I know Joanna appreciates having you both here to support her. This is just a difficult time for everyone.” She threw her brother a look.

“We’re sure,” the matriarch said, attitude ringing in her voice.

Mr. Barnes rolled his eyes skyward. “Lil, this is not the time for you and Joanna to be at each other’s throats. She needs—”

His wife cut him off. “Our daughter needs some time. Clearly our asking questions is a problem for her right now. Simone, call us, please, if anything comes up we need to know about.” She gave her husband another look, then shifted her gaze toward Mingus. She looked the man up and down and his own stare narrowed as he gave her a look back. “And, please, tell our daughter we love her,” she added.

The moment was tense, and awkward. Mingus sensed Joanna’s parents were feeling completely out of sync and unable to be of any help to their only child. Since court, Joanna had been distant at best and neither could understand. Neither he nor Simone had any answers for them either.

“Yes, ma’am,” Simone said as she watched the family make their way to the front door. “I’ll call but I’m sure Joanna will ring you both later, too.”

Mr. Barnes gave her a nod of his head as he and his wife stomped out the door, the structure closing harshly behind them.

Mingus hesitated as Simone stood in the doorway, watching as the couple headed toward their car. When she finally closed and locked the door, he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

* * *

Joanna’s home was filled with books. Shelves overflowed with tomes in every room.

As Mingus reached the open bedroom door, he noticed the music for the first time, the sound piped through the entire house. Joanna had turned up the volume in the space.

Joanna lay in the in fetal position across her bed, a plush pillow pulled beneath her head. Her eyes were wide open, her cheeks still damp with moisture. She lifted her head just enough to give him a look, seeming unfazed by his presence. She rolled to the other side of the bed and fell back into thought.

Mingus knocked against the door frame before he stepped over the threshold. He walked easily into the room and took a seat on the settee that rested at the foot of the bed. He sat listening to the music, some country crooner singing that his woman was better than heaven could ever be. His eyes skated around the room, noting more shelves lined with books. There was a mahogany dressing table decorated with assorted bottles of perfumes and nail polish. Her closet was overflowing with clothes on black-velvet hangers and shoes lined neatly in clear plastic containers. A framed photograph of a young Joanna posed primly between the parents he’d left standing in the kitchen with his sister decorated one wall. The shabby chic decor was an eclectic mix of soft florals and hand-painted furniture. It was a pretty room and Mingus sensed that much thought had gone into every aspect of it, and the rest of her home, to ensure it reflected her personality. Joanna suddenly spoke, pulling him from his thoughts.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why this is happening. Why did he pick me? I really need to talk to David Locklear,” she said, saying her accuser’s name aloud for the first time.

Mingus shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. Get the idea out of your head. They issued a restraining order against you. You can’t go anywhere near that kid and, if you do, they’ll revoke your bail so fast it’ll make your head spin. That is not a risk you want to take. Trust me.”

* * *

Joanna sat upright. Mingus was flipping through the pages of a signed, first-edition, leather-bound copy of Pablo Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. She was taken aback by the deep vibrato of his voice, the rich timbre like an aged cognac. It was the first time she’d heard him speak since their initial meeting.

He lifted his eyes to stare at her, the two locking gazes. He seemed taller, even though he was sitting, his six feet plus a few inches pulled upright. There was no denying the man was good looking with his chiseled features, delectable caramel complexion, haunting eyes and magnetic smile. But she didn’t care much about his good looks right then.

He dropped his gaze back to the book. She was slightly taken aback by his casual disposition, Mingus seeming unfazed by her situation. There’d been something final in his comment, almost as if he was executing an order and daring her to challenge him.

“So what am I supposed to do? How do I get the answers I need?”

“You trust me to do my job,” he answered matter-of-factly as he turned the page he’d been reading. “Despite what some people think, I’m really good at what I do.”

“Weren’t you with the police department once?” she asked, trying to remember what little Simone had told her about this brother.

Mingus nodded, meeting her stare for the second time. “I was.”

“What happened?”

“That, I wasn’t any good at.” The slightest smile pulled at his full lips. “I discovered I work better when I work for myself. I have issues with authority.” His eyes dropped back to the book, seeming genuinely interested in the poem he was focused on.

Before Joanna could respond, Simone poked her head into the room, eyeing her friend and then her brother. “Everything okay in here?”

Mingus shrugged his broad shoulders. He glanced at Joanna. “You good?”

Joanna nodded. “I’m fine. I just needed a moment to myself. My old people were just a bit too much for me to handle.”

“They’re just worried about you,” Simone said, trying to be comforting.

“My mother is doing what everyone is doing—trying to figure out what I did that caused all of this. She hasn’t once considered that maybe I didn’t do anything to provoke being attacked. Why is that?”

“Because you’re a woman,” Mingus answered. He rested the book back into the custom clamshell box where he’d found it. He continued. “Even if the situation were reversed and the teacher were male, there are those who’d be asking what the girl did to provoke his attention. More times than not boys and men are getting high fives for having scored while girls and women get labeled as community sluts.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Simone said.

“Maybe not, but that’s how our society is.”

“It’s total bull,” Joanna snapped, the profanity surprising the other two.

Mingus chuckled, then he and his sister exchanged a look.

Simone moved into the room and crawled in beside her friend on the bed. “We’re going to figure it out, Joanna. Mingus will figure it out,” she said, leveling one last look on her brother as she added emphasis to his name.

Mingus moved onto his feet. “Are you staying here with Joanna tonight?” he asked, looking at his sister.

“I had planned on it,” Simone said, nodding.

“That’s not necessary...” Joanna started. “Really, I can—”

Interrupting, Mingus narrowed his gaze. “Someone needs to keep an eye on you. You’re already plotting how to get out of that ankle bracelet and over to that boy’s house to interrogate him. We can’t let you go out like that.”

He focused his eyes on her hands, her fingers twisting and turning the monitor around her ankle. When he looked back up, she could feel herself blushing profusely.

“I wasn’t...well, not really. I just...”

Mingus suddenly laughed, the sound of his voice bringing the first rays of comfort shed felt since rising that morning. The warmth of it vibrated through the space and bounced from one wall to the other. Joanna and Simone soon found themselves laughing with him, the mood in the room lifting ever so slightly.

Mingus winked at her. “If my sister wasn’t here, I’d show you how to get that off without getting caught. But since she is, it’ll have to wait until we’re by ourselves.”

Joanna smiled, the first warm bend to her lips since they’d met. “Promise?”

“I got you!” With one last wink, Mingus gave them both a wave. “Joanna, I’ll pick you up in the morning. Simone, I will catch you later. You two try to get some rest tonight.”

“Good night,” Joanna said. “And thank you.”

“Later, big brother!”

The two women paused, listening for the front door to open and then close after the man. When they heard him rev the engine of his car as he pulled out of her driveway and down the street, both released easy sighs.

“I like him,” Joanna said, shifting her gaze to look at her friend. “Your brother. He has a good spirit.”

“He’s pretty special. But I worry about him and I’m not sure why because, of all my brothers, I think he’s the most capable of taking care of himself.”

“That’s an interesting statement.”

Simone shrugged. “Mingus never goes with the flow, never follows the rules, never stresses over anything and he always comes out on top. Every time! There’s nothing he hasn’t attempted that he hasn’t excelled at. Even when he was a police officer. He was one of the best. But he doesn’t like authority. He hates being told what to do and I doubt there is anything he’s ever taken seriously.”

“Why do you think that is? Your whole family is so by-the-book about everything. Why do you think he deviates from the status quo?”

“Wish I had an answer. Mingus just is the way he is. His way works for him. We stopped trying to figure him out when he was twelve years old!”

Joanna smiled, seeming to reflect on the comment as she thought about the tall, dark and handsome stranger who was suddenly so important in her life. Even without saying it Mingus seemed to understand her desperation, wanting to help her fix what was broken. In just the few hours of knowing him she sensed he was a man who said more with his silence than most men articulated with words on a daily basis. Despite his mysterious, bad boy demeanor, there was something about her bestie’s brother that was sitting comfortably in her soul. Something that made her feel like everything would be fine as long as she had Mingus Black on her side.

She shifted her body off the bed. “I hope you didn’t put all the food away. I think I’m hungry.”

“Actually, I didn’t put any of it away. And we made enough for an army. You’ll be eating spaghetti for the next month.”

“Good,” Joanna said, her smile widening. “I like spaghetti!”

Simone grinned. “So does my brother. You should have told him to stay.”

Joanna grinned back. “I should have. Maybe next time I will.”

* * *

Mingus sipped three fingers of Conviction bourbon. It was a rich blend of corn and malted barley with a hint of sweetness that reminded him of vanilla fudge and chocolate-covered cherries. He sipped slowly, his mind lost in thoughts of the history teacher.

Papers were strewed across his living room coffee table. Copies of Joanna’s arrest warrant and complaint, her employment file with the city and miscellaneous information his brother had deemed important. He’d read the report taken by police, the initial charges leveled against the educator and accounts from the victim reading like a romance novel gone very wrong. How she’d begun to pay extra attention to her student, offering to tutor him after hours. Then tutoring transitioning to something more when the young man expressed his attraction to her. Innocent flirtation and playful banter becoming more personal and then physical. David Locklear believed himself in love, consumed by desire, until he wasn’t. He’d felt defenseless, alleging his favorite teacher had threatened to compromise him graduating if he tried to leave the relationship. A failing grade on a thesis paper had been the final straw leading to the boy telling his mother, who herded him down to the police station to give a statement.

When he was done reading everything for the umpteenth time, Mingus settled in his leather recliner, lifting his legs up and out in from of him. He closed his eyes, remembering the hurt that had furrowed Joanna’s brow, questions steeped in the hot tears that had rained down her warm brown cheeks. She’d been adamant about her innocence, never once wavering. She had made no effort to make excuses for the charges. She’d called David Locklear a liar and had been unapologetic about doing so. She hadn’t been at all concerned about the optics, insisting that the truth would prevail and redeem her. In her mind, if the kid was willing to tell such a blatant lie, then he would have to accept the consequences of his actions.

The prosecution had already offered them a deal, believing their case against her was a slam dunk. Believing a guilty plea and short prison sentence would alleviate the embarrassment of a trial. Thinking that Joanna wouldn’t want to put herself, or her alleged underage lover, through the trauma.

But something about the beautiful woman told Mingus she wouldn’t hesitate to get on the witness stand to tell the world her truth. In fact, he’d be willing to wager Joanna Barnes would have no issues trudging to hell and back to prove her innocence. She was ready to battle and something about her had him wanting to get into the fight and go to bat for her. If he’d had any doubts about her innocence, her own actions had dismissed them summarily. Mingus could only hope that the teenage boy was prepared for the war that was coming.

He refilled his glass from the bottle on the end table by his elbow and took another slow sip. He knew sleep wouldn’t couldn’t come any time soon. He needed to put a plan together, to figure out his next steps. But for reasons he couldn’t begin to explain, he couldn’t stop wondering what the exquisite history teacher might feel like in his arms.

* * *

“Classroom to the courtroom! A teacher is facing sex abuse charges involving one of her teenage students. Good morning, everyone, and thank you for joining us this morning at seven. I’m Mark Miller and this is ABC7 Chicago.”

The anchor sat in the news studio, his expression smug as he shuffled a stack of papers on the desk and gazed into the camera. Joanna saw her mug shot suddenly appeared in high definition across the television screen as the newscaster continued.

“The teacher in trouble is twenty-nine-year-old Joanna Barnes, accused of having an inappropriate relationship with a seventeen-year-old male student. That teacher is the third, and the only woman, from the local high schools to be charged with a sex crime in the last eight months. The ABC7 team’s Leanne Garner is reporting from Riptide High School.”

There was a shot of the high school as the students entered the building, the newscaster standing on the sidewalk. Leanne was young, wearing a vibrant blue dress that flattered her petite frame. She spoke with an air of confidence, like she’d scored the story of the year. “Mark, news of the teacher’s arrest has spread pretty fast and caused jaws to drop. The parents and students we talked to were shocked by the allegations.”

The camera flashed on someone’s father and a student Joanna didn’t know.

“She seemed so nice,” said one.

“I’m in shock!” said the other.

The newscaster continued. “As the allegations involved a minor, school officials here at Riptide High contacted the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services and Chicago police. Per a statement issued by Christopher Munn, Chicago Public Schools superintendent, the teacher in question has been removed and termination is pending.

“We wanted to know what the district is doing to ensure students are safe. The superintendent stressed the primary concern is always the protection of students, adding the district is taking the necessary steps to ensure the security of every child.”

Leanne concluded, “This case is still very early in the legal process, but according to the Chicago police and the arrest report, Ms. Barnes has denied the charges. Efforts to reach her for a statement have been unsuccessful.”

Joanna depressed the off button on her television remote, the room spiraling into silence. Rising from the bed, she moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror, staring at her reflection. She no longer recognized the woman looking back at her. Just twenty-four hours earlier she’d been contemplating a cruise to Cuba for the summer break or perhaps traveling to Italy instead for a holiday fling with a handsome stranger. Just one day ago she didn’t have a care in the world, her biggest concern being whether to repaint the master bathroom finch yellow or the dull beige her mother wanted.

Today the reflection staring back at her wasn’t sure if her holiday vacation would include a stint in a maximum security prison with her name on the state’s sex offenders registry, or worse, the unemployment line, her teaching license forever terminated.

The bathroom was never going to be finished and life felt everything but carefree. What she did know for certain was that, for her, the school year was done and finished, and she might never be able to step foot into another classroom. Just the thought made her want to start crying again.

Joanna hung her head, her shoulders rolling forward as she felt as if she was suddenly struggling with the weight of the world. She’d risen early, having barely slept. She had tossed and turned for hours, despite her best efforts to rest. Having always been in full control of her life, she was suddenly out of control, someone else pulling her strings and intent on ruining her.

She took a deep breath. She was angry, frustration fueling rising rage. Mingus had been right. Had she been able to get to David Locklear, she would have probably been in handcuffs for murder because she really wanted to strangle the boy.

David Locklear had been a promising student, though slightly lazy and often distracted. He’d been raised by a single mother, his father having disappeared before his birth. His mother had been a stern disciplinarian and, for all intents and purposes, he’d been raised well. But he could be troublesome, using his teenage antics to impress his peers, no matter the consequences.

The attention Joanna had given the kid hadn’t been any more or any less than she’d given any of her other students. She had offered to tutor him when he was struggling. Had disciplined him when necessary. Had often reached out to his mother to keep her abreast of his progress and she’d advocated for him when others had been ready to write him off. He’d excelled, his grades better than average, and Joanna had been ecstatic for him when he’d been accepted to college. His accusations made no sense and she had no clue what had motivated his lies or what proof had been given to justify her being charged.

The smell of fresh coffee suddenly assaulted her senses and she realized she desperately needed a cup, maybe even two, if she had any hope of getting through the day. Pots and pans were rattling in her kitchen and she whispered a silent prayer of gratitude for Simone. The two women had talked for hours. Simone had made her laugh and had let her cry. There had been no judgment and the woman’s calming presence had been exactly what she’d needed to keep from losing her mind. Shortly after midnight Simone had retired to the guest bedroom and Joanna had been grateful to have someone else there with her in her home.

Joanna moved toward the door, swinging it open eagerly. She headed down the short length of hall to the kitchen. Her eyes widened in surprise when she found Simone’s brother Mingus standing room center, a foam container of eggs in one hand and a stick of butter in the other.

He gave her a nod of his head as her gaze met his. “Good morning.”

“Hey! Good morning! I was expecting to find Simone in here making all that noise.”

“She had to leave. She has a trial starting today and needed to get to her office to prepare. She said to tell you that she will call and check on you later.” He turned to the stove, resting the eggs beside a glass bowl on the counter. He threw a glance over his shoulder, deliberately eyeing her from head to toe. A slight smirk crossed his face, something carnal seeping from his eyes.

The moment was intensely awkward as Joanna suddenly realized she was standing there in sheer panties and a tank top, her bathrobe forgotten in the bedroom. The attire hid very little, all her goodies on full display. She cussed as she spun on her heels and hurried back in the other direction. Behind her, she could hear Mingus chuckling softly.

* * *

Minutes later Mingus could hear her in the other room, still muttering under her breath. Her reaction had been priceless and he was amused. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t stop thinking about the visual she’d blessed him with. The form-fitting garment she’d been wearing had flattered the round of her buttocks and the hint of cleavage between her pert breasts. Her skin was a rich, warm, gingerbread brown and with the length of black hair that hung past her shoulders, she’d been quite the sight to behold. But it had been her bright smile pulled from ear to ear that had him still grinning. He liked seeing her happy.

He had cracked the eggs into the glass bowl and seasoned them with salt and pepper. A second trip to her fridge produced cheese and an assortment of vegetables to complete the morning meal. He was sliding omelets onto two plates when she returned. This time she was wearing denim jeans and a white-and-blue button-up shirt. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail that hung down her back. She was still just as stunning. He ignored the rising sensation quivering for attention in his southern quadrant, instead reaching for the coffeepot to fill two cups with brew.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I usually don’t eat breakfast, but it smells really good.”

“It’s the most important meal of the day. I always eat breakfast in case I don’t get to eat for the rest of the day.”

Joanna moved to take a seat at the table as Mingus pointed to her plate. “Does that happen often? That you don’t get to eat?”

“Sometimes.”

Mingus suddenly reached across the table, motioning for her hands. For a brief moment the gesture caught her off guard. She eyed him questioningly, her brows raised. He waved his fingers a second time until she extended her arms toward his. He clasped her hands beneath his own and lowered his head.

“Father God, thank You for the food we are about to receive for the nourishment of our bodies. In Jesus Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”

Joanna was still eyeing him curiously as he let her go and leaned back in his seat. He reached for his fork and began to eat. She reached for hers, poking at the two-egg omelet filled with cheese, spinach, onion and tomato. She rested her fork against the plate and reached for her coffee cup. After splashing it with hazelnut-flavored creamer, she took a sip, her eyes closing as she savored the rich flavor.

“Coffee’s really not good for you,” Mingus said as he took a sip of his own brew.

Joanna smiled. “So, breakfast is good and coffee isn’t?”

“That’s what they say.”

“So why are you drinking it?”

“I never pay much attention to what they say. I do what I want, when I want.”

Joanna took another sip. “Works for me,” she said, tossing him a look of complicity.

Mingus resisted the urge to smile, his game face sliding into place. He swallowed a forkful of eggs, the melted cheese and vegetables bursting with flavor in his mouth. For a moment they both sat savoring the meal, neither saying anything until Joanna spoke.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I’m going to take you to Ellington’s office, so we can figure out his next steps. After that, you’ll come back here.”

“I need to get my personal belongings from my classroom and I need to pick up my car.”

“You can’t do that. I’ll get your things for you. If you go within ten feet of the school, it will violate your bond.”

She suddenly thought about the news segment, her face plastered across the television screen. People thinking she was a criminal when that was farthest from the truth. “I was on the news this morning. They called me a predator. A child molester. And they posted my picture. Suddenly, I’m guilty before I’ve even had the chance to prove my innocence.”

There was the faintest hint of sympathy in Mingus’s tone as he answered. “I know.”

Joanna sighed softly, took up her fork and began to eat. She suddenly paused, the utensil stopped in midair. “You said we’re going to figure out your brother’s next steps. What are you going to do? And what am I supposed to be doing?”

Mingus narrowed his gaze, amusement sweeping across his face. “You are going to sit tight and say out of trouble. And you’re not going to worry about what I do.”

Her gaze skated across his face, trying to read the emotion staring back at her. She finally shook her head, rising from the table as she grabbed his plate and hers. “Well, I can tell you now that’s not going to happen, so try again, Mingus Black. I need answers and I don’t plan to leave your side until I get them.” She tossed him one last look as she turned, moving to drop the plates into the kitchen sink.

Mingus watched as she rinsed the dirty dishes and moved them into the dishwasher. Her pronouncement came with much attitude in her tone and her body language showed she didn’t care whether he agreed or not. Her expression was stoic, her emotions tightly contained. She was learning not to show her hand and he was impressed. He appreciated her determination, even though he sensed she was going to be a royal pain in his ass.