Читать книгу Baby Breakout - Lisa Childs - Страница 10

“I was wrong,” a deep voice murmured. Jed spoke from where he stood in the hall, as if reluctant to step any closer to the child he had helped her conceive.

Erica stared down at her daughter’s sleeping face. After a sip of water, the toddler had dropped immediately back into a deep slumber. The stranger hadn’t unsettled or scared her like he had Isobel’s mother. But that was because Erica knew him, although he wasn’t the friend she’d told her daughter he was. If he had actually been a friend, she would have known him better; she would have known better than to trust him, let alone fall for him.

And even though he had been sentenced to spend two lifetimes in prison, Erica had known that this day would eventually come. She had known she would see Jedidiah Kleyn again. She stepped out of Isobel’s room and closed the door.

He stared at it, though, as if he could see through the wood. As if he could see his child …

“You were wrong?” She prodded him for an explanation and a diversion. Hoping he would follow her, she led him away from her daughter, down the short hall and back into the living room.

She hadn’t wanted to let him near her daughter. But she hadn’t wanted to scare the little girl either by showing her own fear. Some instinct, as well, had assured Erica that no matter what else Jed might have done, he wouldn’t hurt a child.

“You’re not my alibi,” he agreed as he rejoined her in the front room.

Finally he admitted it, banishing the doubts that had plagued her for the past three years. What if his lawyer had been wrong? What if Jedidiah hadn’t committed those heinous crimes? But Marcus Leighton had known Jed far longer and better than she had. If his own friend had believed he was guilty …

“Isobel’s my alibi.”

She gasped in surprise at his bizarre claim.

“She’s irrefutable proof that I was with you that night.”

Anger surged through her, chasing away her fears. She stepped close to him and stabbed his massive chest with her fingertip. “She’s irrefutable proof that I was drugged and raped that night.”

His neck snapped back as if she’d slapped him. “You think I raped you?”

“You drugged me—”

“I did not drug you,” he insisted with a weary-sounding sigh. From the dark circles beneath his eyes, she doubted he’d had any sleep since his escape. He had probably spent every minute of that time tracking her down. “I don’t even believe you were drugged.”

“Your lawyer has the lab results,” she informed him. “When I told him that my memory of that night was cloudy, he had my blood drawn.”

She should have known better than to believe, even for a moment, that Jed might have actually cared about her. Her own parents hadn’t. She had been just a few years older than Isobel was now when they’d dropped her off at her great aunt’s with the promise that they would come back for her. Despite sending her cards and letters over the years that had reiterated that promise and renewed her hope, they had never come back.

“When was that?” he asked, his dark eyes intense.

She had to refocus on their conversation to realize what he was asking, but she still didn’t understand why. “Three years ago, of course.”

“No,” he impatiently replied. “How many hours or days after we were together?”

Erica shrugged, wondering why he thought it mattered so much how many days or hours had passed. “I don’t know. It was after you were arrested.”

“So at least two days after that night?” he prodded her.

Would it have mattered how many days or hours? Her pulse quickened as she began to wonder and hope that she might not have been so wrong about him. Cautiously, she replied, “I guess.”

He shook his head with disgust, as if he’d caught her in a lie. “If you had been drugged, it wouldn’t have been in your system any longer.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, her stomach tightening with dread.

She had hoped she was wrong about him; that he hadn’t been the one responsible. But he seemed familiar with the drug she’d been slipped, probably in the water he’d given her at the office before she’d left with him that night.

He wouldn’t have had to drug her to get her to go home with him. She had been so grateful, and relieved after a year of worrying, that he’d come back from Afghanistan alive that she would have done anything for him. And to be with him …

“Everyone knows that the drug you’re talking about—the one that erases your memory—doesn’t stay in your system very long,” he said.

Growing up in Miller’s Valley with her great aunt, Erica had been sheltered. She knew nothing about drugs. At her high school no one had used anything more dangerous than marijuana.

“I didn’t know that,” she murmured, embarrassed by her naïveté.

“I know you’re lying,” he said.

“I really didn’t know—”

“You’re lying about that night,” he clarified. “I was with you. I know you weren’t drugged. You were just upset after catching Brandon with another woman.”

That hadn’t upset her. Brandon Henderson hadn’t even been her real fiancé; he had just been too stubborn and too arrogant to accept her no to his proposal. So he had insisted she think about it and wear his ostentatious diamond ring while she did. When Jed had returned from Afghanistan, she had realized why. Brandon had wanted to stick it to the friend he had always envied and resented. That was why she had gone into Brandon’s office the night the man had been murdered—to tell him where to go with his ring.

“I was upset,” she agreed. But not for the reasons Jed thought. She’d been upset that she had let Brandon use her to hurt him. But then Jed had used her, too, and far worse than Brandon had.

After being a pawn in their sick, deadly game, she had realized that she should have stayed in Miller’s Valley. It was much safer for her here. So even if her neighbor hadn’t called to warn her about her great aunt’s deteriorating health, she would have come home.

But Marcus Leighton had always known where she was. Why had he lied to Jed?

Had he lied to her, too?

If Jed’s rage was out of control, as his friend had claimed, wouldn’t he have killed her already for not coming forward with the alibi he’d planned? But he had yet to lay a hand on her. Her pulse quickened at the thought of him touching her. Again.

“I took you back to my place,” Jed said. “You remember that, don’t you?”

“I remember you threatening to kill Brandon for hurting me,” she replied.

“His girlfriend remembered me threatening him, too,” he said with a sigh. “And she testified to it in court. She also claimed that she left me and Brandon alone together.”

Doubts began to niggle. She hadn’t heard that testimony. But she hadn’t gone to court. Leighton hadn’t wanted her there. And she had needed to be with her aunt in Miller’s Valley. She had followed news reports, though, but must have missed the day the girlfriend had testified.

“You and I both know she lied,” Jed said, “that you and I left her alone with him. You could have testified to that even if you really don’t remember what else happened.”

“I don’t remember …” But heat warmed her face at the lie. She didn’t remember everything, but images flashed through her mind. Images of the two of them, naked and wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“You’re lying again,” he accused her, his voice sharp with frustration.

“I remember that you took me back to your place,” she admitted.

“It was close to the office, and I didn’t want you driving, as upset as you were.”

She remembered that, too, and that she had been mad, so mad that the anger had made her light-headed and unsteady enough that Jed had carried her up the steps of his loft to his bedroom. Then when Marcus Leighton had told her she’d been drugged, she had realized it hadn’t been the anger that had affected her like that.

“Just rest,” Jed had told her, as he’d leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

But she’d grabbed his hand. She’d stopped him from leaving her. And she suspected she would have done that even if she hadn’t been drugged.

“You remember more than that,” he challenged her, as he studied her face.

It had to be flushed because her skin was hot and tingling.

“You know I didn’t rape you,” he said, leaning down so that his mouth was mere inches from hers. “You wanted me …”

She swallowed hard, unable to deny her desire. “I was a fool.”

“Is that why you didn’t come forward?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Because you were too embarrassed?”

“I went to your lawyer,” she told him again. “Mr. Leighton said—”

“Forget Marcus for now,” he said as if he couldn’t deal with the possibility that his friend might have betrayed him. “Why didn’t you go to the police?” he asked. “I told the investigating detectives about you, but they didn’t believe that I really had an alibi. Did they even talk to you?”

She shook her head, and sympathy tugged at her that no one had believed him. But his sister …

The news crews had relentlessly hounded Macy Kleyn, ridiculing her for supporting a cop killer. The young woman had always staunchly defended her brother’s innocence.

Had he been innocent?

“Why didn’t you go to the police?” He repeated his question.

“I didn’t know if my testimony would help you or hurt you,” she explained. Because even then, despite what his lawyer had said, she’d had doubts about his guilt. But she’d written those doubts off as pride that she hadn’t wanted to have been so wrong about the man for whom she’d fallen. “And Marcus was adamant that it would hurt you.”

“How?”

“It would have shown premeditation. The prosecutor would have said that you drugged me to provide yourself with an alibi.” He had used her, just as his friend had in their rivalry against each other. But, as Marcus Leighton had said, Jed had taken their sick rivalry too far. “Once I passed out, you left me and returned to the office and killed Brandon. With as close as your apartment was to the office, you had plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time to bludgeon him to death, carry him down to the parking garage, put his body into his car and set it ablaze?” Jed fired the questions at her as if he was the lawyer, and she was the one on trial. “Oh, and kill the police officer who caught me burning the dead body?”

“It’s possible …” Wasn’t it?

He shook his head. “I made love to you all night.” His voice dropped even lower so that it was just a rough whisper as he added, “Over and over again.”

Those images flitted through her mind again—their naked bodies intimately entwined, their mouths fused together. Their hearts beating in the same frantic rhythm. So many images had haunted her over the past few years, staying as vivid as if they’d just made love hours—not years—ago.

Would he have had time to commit those horrific crimes and make love to her so thoroughly?

“I never left you,” he insisted. “You left me.”

“I left you that morning,” she admitted. When she had awakened in his bed, in his arms, she’d slipped out of his loose grasp and hurriedly dressed. She hadn’t been able to believe what she’d done—how she’d given in to her desires to spite her pride. After he’d dumped her before leaving for Afghanistan, she never should have trusted him with her body or her heart. “But you’d left me first—more than a year before.”

“I got deployed.”

“You left me before you got deployed,” she reminded him. “You didn’t want me waiting for you.” And, haunted by all the years she’d spent waiting for someone she loved to come back for her, she had readily agreed to end their budding relationship even though—or maybe because—she had already fallen for him.

“We’d only gone out a few times before I got called back to active duty,” he reminded her. “I couldn’t ask you to wait for me.”

“Yes, you could have.” Then, even if she hadn’t been able to agree to wait, she would have at least known that he cared about her, too. “But you told me that you didn’t see us working out anyway. That we weren’t really compatible.”

And she had believed him … until she’d seen his face when he had returned and found her in Brandon’s office, wearing his ring. She had been trying to give it back that day, too. She’d only gone out with his business partner a few times over the year Jed had been gone, and mostly just so she could ask about Jed. So she had been using Brandon as a connection to the man she really wanted. That was why she had let him talk her into wearing that ring to think about his proposal—because she’d felt guilty.

“I was lying then,” Jed said.

“I didn’t know that. I believed that you really didn’t see any future for us,” she said. And that was why she had felt like a fool when she’d awakened in his arms. What if he’d only been jealous of his friend and hadn’t really cared about her at all? Because if he had, how had he dropped her so easily?

Just as easily as her parents had dropped her at Aunt Eleanor’s and never returned despite all their promises …

“Is that why you didn’t come forward to offer me an alibi?” he asked. “Because you wanted revenge over my dumping you before I left for Afghanistan?”

She sucked in a breath. Apparently he didn’t think very highly of her at all. When he’d told her that he saw no future for them, he must have been telling the truth then. And he was lying now, to try to make her feel guilty enough to help him.

“I have told you,” she said, “again and again that I did come forward. I talked to your lawyer.”

Jed shook his head, once again rejecting her claim. “Marcus swore to me that he never found you.”

“Then he lied.”

And, she thought, if Marcus really had lied to his friend and former fraternity brother, he would have had no qualms about lying to a woman he had barely known. Had Marcus lied about everything? Jed’s guilt? His violent temper?

After that first initial jolt of fear at realizing she had let Jed into her apartment, she hadn’t remained afraid—if she had, she would have tried to get to the phone or she would have shouted for her neighbor to call the police. Of course she would have had to shout really loud for Mrs. Osborn to hear her, but the elderly lady definitely would have come to her aid.

But instinctively she had known that she was in no real danger from Jed—that he wouldn’t physically harm her or their daughter. He may have had reason to harm her, though, had she stupidly believed lies about him …

Jed’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand … why would he lie?”

“He thought you were guilty,” she divulged. “He said that Afghanistan changed you—that you came back so angry and violent.”

A muscle twitched along his jaw, as if he tightly clenched it—controlling that rage of which his friend had warned her. “Was I violent with you that night?”

“From what I remember …?” She bit her lip and shook her head. He had been anything but violent. He had definitely been passionate but gentle, too.

“So I didn’t rape you.”

“No, but I was drugged. I don’t care if the results came too late. I know that something wasn’t right that night. I felt dazed or drunk, and I’d had nothing but that water at the office.” At the time, she’d thought it had just been the surrealness of finally making love with the man she had loved for so long and had worried that, because of his deployment, she would never have had the chance to be that close to him.

Jed nodded, almost as if he was beginning to accept that what she told him was the truth.

“My memory of that night is sporadic,” she continued. “I can testify that I was with you that night, but I can’t swear that you never left me. Your lawyer was right that I wouldn’t have been a convincing alibi—that my testimony could have actually hurt you more than I could have helped you.”

And that was why she hadn’t gone to the police, despite the twinges of guilt she’d felt over staying silent. While she believed that a man should be punished for his crimes, she hadn’t wanted to help dole out that punishment. Not to Jed—not given what he might have endured in Afghanistan.

According to his lawyer, there had been more than sufficient evidence for his conviction without her muddying the waters. But would she have muddied the waters, or had Leighton already done that?

His broad shoulders slumped, and his breath shuddered out in a ragged sigh. “I spent all these years thinking that all I had to do to clear my name was find you.”

“Is that really all you want?” To clear his name—not to kill her? If she could have been his alibi but hadn’t come forward, she wouldn’t blame him for wanting to harm her.

He glanced toward the hall down which was his daughter’s room. “That was all I wanted.”

“To clear your name?”

“I am innocent, Erica,” he insisted, his voice and gaze steady with sincerity. “I didn’t kill anyone. Not in Afghanistan and damn well not when I returned.”

Guilt gripped her heart, making it ache. Had she been wrong? Had she stood by and done nothing while an innocent man rotted in prison? “But there was the witness—the one who actually saw you shoot the cop.”

Jed shrugged. “He was a vagrant who hung out in the parking garage. He was usually drunk. His testimony shouldn’t have held any weight.”

“He didn’t look like a vagrant in court. The jury believed him.” And so had she.

“You followed the trial?”

Erica nodded. The judge had opened up the courtroom to news crews, which had covered and replayed every salacious detail of the trial. “But your lawyer told me how it would go before it even started. He knew the evidence against you was insurmountable, and that my testifying would only make you look guiltier, that it would help prove premeditation.”

“Or your alibi might have given me reasonable doubt …”

Instead she had been the one with the doubts. But then, pretty much everyone she had ever loved had lied to her. Over and over again …

“Your lawyer showed me pictures of the crime scene, too.” She shuddered. Because of the graphic nature of the images, the media hadn’t been allowed to show crime-scene photos on the news. For years Erica had wished she had never seen them, either.

“Why would Marcus do that?” Jed asked.

“I don’t know …” She hadn’t understood any of it—the rivalry between men who were supposed to be friends and business partners or the lawyer being so certain that his client was guilty. She’d wondered then if Jed had actually confessed to his friend.

Jed’s brow furrowed with lines of confusion. “It’s as if he was trying to convince you of my guilt when he was supposed to be doing everything in his power to prove my innocence.”

“He didn’t prove your innocence to a jury. He did a much better job of proving your guilt,” she said, “at least to me.”

Jed shook his head, as if trying to make sense of it all. “I thought he was my friend. He and Brandon and I all belonged to the same fraternity.”

“Brandon wasn’t really your friend,” she pointed out.

Jed must have realized how much his former fraternity brother and business partner had envied and resented him. But then Brandon had been very good at hiding that resentment behind a façade of charm and humor—otherwise she never would have spent any time with him—not even to stay connected to Jed.

“And apparently neither was Marcus,” Jed said with a heavy sigh. “So is he the one who framed me?”

Framed? The idea didn’t seem all that preposterous anymore. In fact it seemed highly likely, which both relieved and sickened her.

“It would explain why he knew how much evidence there was against you—if he planted it.” Just as he had planted the doubts in her muddled mind, so that she had done nothing when Isobel’s father had gone to prison for a crime he hadn’t committed. She should have at least talked to him, let him tell her his side of that night.

But she had worried that she would fall for his lies again.

What if she’d been wrong about him?

Her head pounded, and her stomach pitched as she realized the full impact of what she’d done … to Jed and their daughter. She had cost them three years together, and, from what she had seen on the news about the corruption at Blackwoods Penitentiary, she had nearly cost Jed his life.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE JED KLEYN got out,” Marcus Leighton said, his hand shaking as he poured himself another drink.

“It was your job to make sure he stayed in prison for the rest of his life,” the man with Marcus reminded his partner in crime.

But Marcus had never really been a partner, just a greedy ally. Not even so much an ally as a puppet, really. Easily manipulated. Too easily …

Marcus stared up at his companion, his eyes already clouded with confusion and drunkenness. “I’m not responsible for him breaking out of prison.”

“He was supposed to die in prison.” That had been how the plan—the brilliant plan—was to have concluded.

“He’d only been inside three years.” Marcus was sober enough to remember. As if realizing that his brain was fogging, he pushed his glass aside. Alcohol sloshed over the rim and onto the case file lying on his mahogany desk. It was an antique, like most of the furnishings in the elegant office. Marcus enjoyed the finer things in life.

“Three years wasn’t long enough.” Jed wouldn’t have suffered enough. Not yet. If he had lasted just a few more years, an inmate would have been rewarded—just as Marcus’s ineptitude had been rewarded—for taking Jedidiah Kleyn’s life.

But maybe this was a better and far more satisfying conclusion to his plan. Now he would get to take Jed’s life himself—with his own hands. And he would be able to watch Jed’s face while he did it.

“He’ll be apprehended,” Marcus said. “It doesn’t matter how many other prisoners escaped during the riot, every cop is out there looking for Jed.”

He shook his head. “You heard that DEA agent on the news, didn’t you? The guy praises Kleyn for saving his life. He believes his claims of innocence.”

Marcus’s breath shuddered out. “That’s why he asked for copies of all my records. He already got the police files and court transcripts.”

His heart pounded a little faster. Marcus was so inept that he might have left something in those records that could lead back to him. “When is he coming for them?”

The color left Marcus’s face, leaving him even pastier than the long Michigan winter had. “He’s coming by tomorrow.”

He had time. “Then we’ll have to destroy them tonight.”

Marcus nodded eagerly, and his shoulders slumped with relief. “Of course. Yes, we will.”

The man really was an idiot, which made him a liability. “We’ll have to get rid of any evidence leading back to me.”

“To us.”

“No, to me.” He lifted his gun from beneath the edge of Marcus’s desk. “Just like the evidence, you’re going to get destroyed tonight, my friend.”

It wouldn’t matter who had begun to believe Jedidiah Kleyn’s claims of innocence. He wouldn’t be able to prove it. He wouldn’t die a hero; he would die a killer.

And like Marcus Leighton, he would die soon. But first he would suffer so much that he would be almost grateful for death …