Anything but Mine (9 page)

“Good deal.” McMillian shook Stanton’s hand, slapped Tick on the shoulder. “Keep me informed. And time really is of the essence here. The hearing to set a trial date is tomorrow morning. I can try to put it off a few days, but Autry may ask for speedy trial, especially if she thinks we’re looking for further evidence. I have to disclose these DNA results, but I’m going to hold out as long as possible.”

McMillian strode back to his car and the sleek Mercedes purred onto the side street.

Tick sighed. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Stanton rubbed at his jaw. “Throw everything on your desk Cookie’s way. I want you focused on this.”

“Everything on my desk includes Autry’s case.”

“I can take it. Just get Falconetti to go over those notes.”

“I’ll run them over now. Then I’m going to Tallahassee, pass a photo array by that desk clerk one more time.” Tick shook his head. “We can’t let him walk on this, Stan. If he does, he’ll go somewhere else, do it all over again. Only he’ll know what mistakes not to make.”

“Don’t throw in the towel just yet. It’ll be hard for him to wiggle out of the aggravated assault charges with both you and Falconetti testifying against him.”

“Yeah, and if that’s all he’s convicted of, he’ll be out of prison in a couple of years. He’s a control nut. Think about what prison would do to a guy like that, what he’d be when he walked out.”

Stanton suppressed a shudder. He didn’t want to think about it. “Then find the evidence to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Will do.” Tick pulled his keys from his pocket, jingling them. “What are you going to do about Autry?”

“Find her.”

“No, I mean about the DNA results. Are you going to tell her?”

“I can’t.”

“Oh, man, you’re screwed when she does find out.”

“Just go find someone who can put Schaefer with Amy Gillabeaux, Tick.” His silence might mean he was screwed with Autry, but if Schaefer walked…

They all were. Including his next victim.

Parts of Schaefer’s face actually resembled raw meat, fresh from the grinder. Autry had heard the old cliché, but she’d never seen it until now. A huge purple bruise encircled one eye, the lid completely swollen shut. The skin over his cheekbone had burst in more than one place. His lip was split and bloodied. He winced as Layla Jackson, the physician’s assistant on duty, cleaned the lacerations.

Sympathy flashed through Autry and she buried it. What was she thinking? The man had killed people and she felt sorry for him because he’d had the living hell beat out of him? No. She refused to.

Removing her gaze from Schaefer’s face, she looked up at Sheriff Harding. “Now what happened, exactly?”

Arms folded over his chest, Harding shrugged. “A fight broke out in the exercise yard. While the jailers were breaking it up, another prisoner jumped him.”

Autry brushed a loose hank of hair behind her ear. “Mr. Schaefer was remanded to your jail because there were fears about his safety in the Chandler County facility. You knew that, didn’t you, Sheriff?”

Harding barely blinked. “Jail is a tough place, Ms. Holton. Your client is an ex-cop, charged with some pretty heinous crimes. A lot of people don’t like him. We can go twenty-four-hour solitary for his own protection, if you like.”

“No.” Schaefer struggled to a more upright position, the handcuffs at his right wrist rattling against the bedrail. His fingers compressed on the mattress’s edge. “I’ll be fine.”

Harding flicked a glance at him. “My decision. Not yours.”

Schaefer’s expression tightened, but he remained silent. Layla tilted his chin up and inspected the largest cut on his cheekbone. “No stitches. We’ll put a butterfly bandage on that and finish cleaning, and you’re out of here.”

Her stomach rolling, Autry looked away. “Will the other prisoner be charged?”

Harding nodded. “Paperwork’s already been filed.”

“Good.” She glanced at Schaefer, not meeting his eyes. “All right then, I’m going to—”

“Can you stay?” Schaefer’s voice rose slightly. Harding tensed. “I wanted to talk to you. Alone.”

She clenched her hands behind her back. “Of course. Is that all right with you, Sheriff?”

“Sure thing.”

“All finished.” Layla stepped back, cleared her debris of gauze and cotton swabs and tugged off her gloves. “I’ll get the discharge instructions.”

She disappeared outside the cubicle. Harding tilted his head toward the door. “Five minutes, Ms. Holton. I’ll be right outside.”

Once Autry was alone with Schaefer, the room seemed suddenly smaller. Or maybe he just seemed larger, without the table between them. She refused to look at the metal bracelet at his wrist, to let him see the fear trembling beneath her skin.

She swallowed. “Why did you need to talk to me?”

With his good eye, he held her gaze. “You promised to keep me informed. I haven’t heard from you.”

Autry smothered a sigh. “I’m still working. Putting together a defense takes time. Tomorrow is the hearing to set your trial date. I’m going to ask for a continuance—”

“No.” He shook his head, a sharp, emphatic movement. “I want it over soon. No delays.”

“I don’t think you—”

“I said no.” Anger crackled in his words and Autry jumped.

He leaned forward. A muscle flickered in his jaw. “You don’t understand what it’s like, being locked up. Having no say in anything—when you sleep, when you eat, when you relieve yourself. Never being alone. There’s always someone around you and you don’t know what anyone will do next.”

“But rushing to trial isn’t the answer.” She pitched her voice to a quiet, gentle tone and tried to keep in mind that Jason Harding waited just outside. One scream and he’d come running.

If she got the chance to scream. Had Amy? Or any of the other girls? A shudder ran over her spine and she hoped the fear didn’t show. She’d read Caitlin Falconetti’s profile—the FBI agent believed Schaefer fed off his victim’s fear. Autry refused to give him a taste of her own.

“
I want out
.” The words emerged terse and intense, as though Schaefer gritted his teeth. “Do you get that? I want out as soon as possible. No continuance.”

She straightened. “Fine. I’ll ask for the next available date.”

Schaefer relaxed. “And you’ll keep me informed.”

“Of course.” She loosened her hands, blood rushing back into her aching knuckles. “Are we finished?”

He nodded, a crooked smile curving his damaged mouth. “Thanks, Autry.”

The glimpse of intensity beneath the handsome exterior was scary. Was that what his victims had seen, only when it was too late to get away?

Head held high, she slipped out of the room and leaned against the wall. Her breathing came in shallow bursts as residual adrenaline flowed along her veins. Vertigo attacked her, feet and the floor seeming to tilt.

“Ms. Holton? Are you all right?” Concern softened Harding’s voice.

Autry opened her eyes on a slight smile. “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded, making her smile brighter. “Absolutely.”

He didn’t drop his gaze from her face. “I’ll make sure you get a copy of the incident report.”

“I appreciate that.” Breathing through her mouth, fighting off the dizziness and nausea, she tugged Stanton’s keys from her purse and walked away. Even though it made her feel paranoid, she asked the ER’s security guard to escort her to the parking lot. Locked securely in the Explorer, she rested her head on the seat and closed her eyes.

She could smell Stanton, the essence of his scent lingering in the SUV’s upholstery. The sensory memory triggered a mix of emotions—safety, desire, loss. She released a long, shaky breath. What was she going to do about him? Letting him continue making decisions for her, acting the protector, couldn’t go on. He was the one man she needed to be on equal footing with, and life kept shoving obstacle after obstacle at her—Schaefer, the threats, even her baby.

Pressing her eyelids closer together, Autry buried her fingers in her hair, nails biting into her scalp. The whole Schaefer issue would eventually go away, his case would end one way or the other, and he’d be out of her life. In five months, she’d give birth and she and Stanton would just have to deal with sharing parenthood, separate or apart. She could handle all of that.

But the threats…the stalker…

That could go on indefinitely. What if it didn’t have anything to do with Schaefer? What if the person never went away? Her whole life would change. Had already changed. How was she supposed to deal with that?

No answers swam to the surface of her mind, her thoughts still swirling in an endless, sucking whirlpool. With a sigh, she reached for the ignition and opened her eyes.

She yelped, a high, startled sound, heart hitting a racing tempo in a nanosecond. The next instant, recognition of the strong silhouette at the SUV’s hood sank in and she released her deathgrip on the steering wheel.

She lowered the window. “Lord, Daddy, you scared me to death. What are you doing here?”

“I had a check-up with Dr. Shiver.” Her father smiled, although the affectionate expression didn’t wipe out the concern darkening his blue eyes. “And I have a couple of questions for you, Buckshot. Want to tell your old man why you’re leaving the hospital in the middle of the afternoon and driving Stanton Reed’s truck? Or better yet, why Tick was dusting your car for fingerprints in front of the courthouse earlier today?”

She supposed she was lucky he wasn’t asking her why she’d spent the night before at Stanton’s. It wasn’t like keeping a secret in this town was possible, even if she had managed to keep a whopper of one far too long. Her secrecy weighed on her and she took a deep breath. For once, in her father’s steady presence, the hated tears were far away.

Pushing the door open, she tumbled from the truck and into his embrace, inhaling deeply of his licorice and Old Spice scent. “Oh, Daddy. I’ve got so much to tell you.”

“Well.” Autry’s father passed a hand over his forehead. “A baby.”

Her chest squeezed. Was that disappointment deep in his eyes? Around them, the diner bustled—spoons clinked against china cups, conversation buzzed between patrons. But they seemed surrounded by a bubble of isolation, a result of the two secrets she’d disclosed over sweet tea and slices of pecan pie.

She fidgeted, twining her fingers together in her lap. “I know what you’re probably thinking…that I should have been more careful, especially after everything that happened with Helen and Nate—”

“You just let me do my own thinking, Buckshot.” Affectionate exasperation laced his voice. “Maybe I was thinking about having another grandson or granddaughter to take fishing.”

Autry buried her head in her hands and groaned. “Mama won’t take it that way.” Stupid, to be thirty years old and still afraid of her mother’s reaction to perceived mistakes. At the thought, a spurt of irritation shot through her. Her baby might be unexpected, but a mistake? Even Stanton hadn’t approached it that way and obviously he hadn’t wanted to become a father again. Damned if she’d let her mother use the word.

“Don’t worry about your mama right now.” At her father’s gentle sternness, Autry lifted her head. He watched her, his blue eyes intense and worried. “I want to hear about these notes and why you didn’t come to me.” He frowned, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening. “Or take them to Stanton sooner.”

“Asinine of me, wasn’t it? I don’t know why I…” She fingered the lemon slice perched on the side of her glass. A condensation droplet meandered down to splash on the faded Formica tabletop. She did know why—Stanton’d hurt her when he’d dumped her back in June and she hadn’t wanted him to think she was using the notes, or the baby, as a way to get close to him once more. A tense smile tugged at her mouth. “I didn’t tell you because I realize you’ve always expected me to take care of things on my own. At first I thought it was a one-time thing that would go away, and then, well, I didn’t want to look like a weak, scared female.”

He lifted his tea and sipped. “You’re a smarter woman than that, Autry.”

She shrugged. “But Stanton’s involved now, and Tick, and if anyone can find this person, they can.”

A troubled expression crossed his lined face. “And if they don’t?”

The frisson of hopelessness traveled along her spine again, and she squashed it. “They will. I’m sure of it.”

Because if they didn’t, she’d have to live her life always wondering when the next note would come, if the next time there wouldn’t be a note, just an attack from nowhere. She’d seen stalker cases before, had even defended a woman accused of stalking an ex-husband. Too often, they escalated to violence.

“And how long will you be staying at Stan’s?”

She didn’t miss the pointed question lying behind the innocent inquiry. More water drops trailed down her glass and she traced them with her finger before meeting his gaze. “Awhile. We’ve agreed we’re going to try to make things work, because of the baby.”

Her throat narrowed, aching. Because of the baby. Not because he wanted
her
. Because she was pregnant and he felt he had to do the right thing. Lord, duty sucked sometimes. She was trapped into defending Schaefer and Stanton had to feel trapped into this mess with her.

She’d been crazy to go along with him, to think maybe he’d come to love her. Her eyes blurred, and she blinked. She would not cry in front of her father. Doing so would embarrass her beyond belief and could only impact his professional relationship with Stanton negatively. Why hadn’t she considered all the ramifications before getting involved with Stanton in the first place?

You did. You just didn’t care at the time.

A heavy scowl brought her father’s thick gray brows down. “I don’t like the sound of that. You don’t have to settle, Autry. You’re intelligent, beautiful and—”

“And you’re my father and completely biased.”

He ignored her. “And if Stanton Reed doesn’t want you for those reasons, then he doesn’t deserve you. Draw up custody and support papers and find a man who’ll see what a treasure you are.”

She reached for his hand. His fingers, strong and dotted with age spots, curved around hers. “Daddy, I have to try. My baby, your grandchild, deserves that much.”

She wanted him to agree with her, to tell her she was doing the right thing, but he remained silent, his thumb moving across her knuckles in a soothing sweep. His frown didn’t lighten. She laughed, trying to alleviate the doubt on his face, although the sound was strained even to her ears. “Daddy, I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes troubled. “Do you, Buckshot? Do you really?”

“Stanton?” At Autry’s soft voice, he looked up from one of the endless reports that always seemed to grace his desk. Her absence had trapped him in the office, so he’d spent the rest of the afternoon trying to catch up on the paperwork. Worrying about her had kept him from getting half what he normally would done.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Autry’s lips curved into a tight bow. “Did you get my note?”

Tossing his pen down, he leaned back. “I got it.” It hadn’t lessened his worry any. His eyes narrowed. “Jason Harding called to tell me what happened with Schaefer.”