On the Line (11 page)

“Did you touch the body?” Bonner asked gruffly.

Nathan nodded. “For a moment, to check for a pulse.”

“That was all?” Bonner raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Sergeant Bonner frowned again and Nathan looked at the young detective. He was looking
at a binder in front of him as well. They were all silent as the men studied the
papers in front of them and Mason made notes on his yellow legal pad.

“What happened next? Did you do any further study of the body?” the sergeant asked
as he met Nathan’s stare again.

Nathan shook his head. “I didn’t see any reason to. Crime scenes aren’t my expertise.
My job is protecting victims of domestic violence, so I went to see to Miss Morgan.
I escorted Mr. Lyons out of the house as he carried her to the ambulance. As I left
the house, I noticed the investigators taking pictures of the scene, and I left them
to do their job.”

The corner of Bonner’s mouth lifted forebodingly. He produced an evidence bag and
slid it toward Nathan. “Do you recognize that?”

Nathan looked down at the bag. It contained a handgun, a Ruger LC9, that looked remarkably
familiar. Without saying a word, he looked up at Sergeant Bonner and raised an eyebrow.
“Where did you find this?”

“I thought you were more observant than that,” Bonner said with a sneer. “That weapon
was found at the crime scene. It’s the murder weapon.”

“Is that so?” Nathan said coolly, even as his stomach dropped. He’d given Janelle
a gun just like this before she’d ended their affair.

“What I find even more interesting is that this gun was purchased by and is registered
to you,” the sergeant smiled widely and Nathan had the distinct feeling he thought
he’d just snared Nathan in some sort of trap. “Would you like to explain to us how
that might have happened?”

Nathan considered his answer then sat back in his chair and folded his arms over
his chest. “Actually, no. I’d like to hear your theory instead.”

Did the old detective just growl?

“We don’t have a theory, Sergeant Harris, just the evidence,” Detective Hayes stated.
Nathan looked at him incredulously. Was he really that naïve? Or did he just think
Nathan was?

“I believe you gave that gun to Mr. Lyons so that he could take care of your little
problem for you,” Sergeant Bonner started, and Nathan smiled inwardly. Now he was
getting somewhere. “I think you met up with him before he went to the cabin, you
gave him the gun, and you asked him to make it look like a struggle when he killed
your rival.”

“How very romantic,” Nathan scoffed. “And how very wrong.” He sat up and laid his
forearms on the table as he stared at the older man. “If that were the case, then
where is the gun Mr. Wagoner used to shoot Miss Morgan?”

Sergeant Bonner pressed his lips tightly together and his cheeks pinkened slightly.

Nathan narrowed his eyes on the detective. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say
you’re trying to frame me, or Mr. Lyons, or maybe both of us, for Mr. Wagoner’s death.”

Bonner’s face went from pink to slightly red as he jerked back, his mouth opening
and closing like a fish. “How . . . What . . . You . . .” he blustered, unable to
finish a sentence.

“The handgun was something I gave to Mrs. Wagoner while we were together,” Nathan
began his explanation.

“So she could kill her husband and you could be together for good?” Bonner managed
to blurt as the color in his face began to recede.

“How stupid do you think I am?” Nathan asked as he inched forward even more, anxious
to rise from his seat. “I gave it to her so she could
protect
herself from him. I
wanted her to feel like she could fight back if she needed to.”

“He was abusive?” Detective Hayes questioned, and Nathan nodded. “She asked for the
gun?”

“No,” Nathan grumbled. She hadn’t wanted it even when he’d put it in her hands. “She
never even told me he was abusing her physically, but I could see the marks on her
arms and shoulders. She had a bruise around her neck once, and that’s when I bought
the gun for her.”

“Did she ever use it?” Hayes asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Nathan answered. He’d planned to take her to a shooting range
so she could practice, but he’d never had the chance.

“Well, how did it come into Mr. Wagoner’s possession?” Bonner asked arrogantly.

Nathan closed his eyes so he wouldn’t roll them. “I don’t know the answer to that
question,” he said through clenched teeth.

The room fell quiet, and Nathan opened his eyes and looked around. Detective Hayes
had closed his binder and was sitting back in his chair. Sergeant Bonner stared at
his papers, flipping through them furiously.
Nathan thought for sure he’d end up
ripping one or more of them out of the binder. Mason was tapping his pen on his legal
pad, glaring at Nathan with an obvious look of displeasure in his deep-green eyes.

After a few more minutes, it was Mason who finally spoke up. “Are we finished here?”

Sergeant Bonner flipped through the remaining pages in his binder then slammed it
shut. “Yes,” he grumbled, “we’re done.”

Nathan quickly pushed away from the table and stood. He waited for Mason to collect
his things and stand then led the two of them out of the room. Once the door was
closed behind them, Nathan felt the thwack of a legal pad against the back of his
head. He turned and glared at his younger brother.

“What was that for?” Nathan put his hand to the stinging spot on the back of his
head.

“You gave her a gun? Seriously, you idiot, what were you thinking?” Mason snapped.
“You’re lucky she didn’t want it, otherwise you may have been in major trouble.”

“How do you know she didn’t want it?” Nathan grumbled as he put his hand down.

“Your face said it all,” Mason said, followed by another mumbled “idiot” as he walked
past him and down the hallway. Once they were away from the interrogation room and
in a more secluded part of the station, Mason turned and faced his brother.

“Why did you give her a gun?” Mason repeated his question.

Nathan shrugged as he propped himself against the blank, cream-colored wall across
from his brother. He looked at his feet as he thought of all the reasons why he’d
given her the gun, which in hindsight may not have been the best idea. “Do you know
how many domestic violence cases I’ve worked, Mason?” Nathan continued to look at
his feet as image after image of broken, battered women floated through his mind.
“Do you know how many of those women refused to leave their husbands, thinking that
the abuse would subside if they simply perfected their behavior, if they just didn’t
argue or fight back? Or maybe things would improve if their husbands found a job,
or found a better job, or was just less stressed?” Nathan looked at his brother,
met his wide green stare, and shrugged. “Do you know how many of
those women ended
up beaten beyond recognition? Beaten to the point they could no longer use arms,
hands, legs, or feet? Beaten to death?” Nathan’s eyes closed against some of the
more gruesome pictures. “I didn’t want to get a call to her house to find she had
become one of those women,” he finished quietly.

Mason didn’t say anything for a few minutes, until Nathan was able to open his eyes
and look at him again. “Did you think about what might have happened if she’d used
it against him?”

Nathan folded his arms across his chest and ignored the question.

“You said she never admitted to physical abuse, so she never reported it, did she?”

Nathan reluctantly shook his head.

“No,” Mason said. “I didn’t think so. So, what would have happened if she had used
that gun against him? She would have been charged with his murder and you may have
been held responsible as well.” Mason rolled his eyes. “You could have been an accomplice
to murder.”

“I know,” Nathan replied with exasperation. He had considered that, but not until
after he’d left the weapon in her possession.

“And what if he’d used the gun on her?” Mason’s raised eyebrow accompanied his cool
utterance.

A chill ran down Nathan’s spine. That thought, too, had only crossed his mind after
it was too late. Nathan had stayed up some nights, unable to sleep for the fear that
Richard would kill Janelle with the gun he had given her. He wouldn’t have been able
to forgive himself.

“Did you even think about that?”

“You should save your questions for the courtroom,” Nathan grumbled. “I’m tired of
hearing them.”

“I don’t care. It was stupidity at its finest on your part, Nathan,” Mason said.
“I would have expected more from you, big brother. What is it about her that gets
you all tangled up?”

Nathan’s upper lip curled as he narrowed his eyes on his brother. The urge to hit
one of his brothers had never been stronger than it was right now. “I just wanted
her to be safe,” Nathan replied shortly. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Mason’s shoulder lifted slightly. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see about what?” a feminine voice floated toward them.

Nathan closed his eyes as the familiar voice caressed him. Really, could his day
get any worse?

“Wait and see about what?” Janelle repeated, closer this time, and Nathan opened
his eyes to find her stopped beside Mason.

She eyed Nathan warily for a moment then turned her pert little nose up and her focus
on his brother. Nathan hated the look he saw in her eyes—the look that spoke of mistrust
and caution. A look that said she didn’t really want to be near him. Not that he
could blame her. He hadn’t spoken to her in a week.

“Good morning, Janelle,” Mason happily greeted her.

She smiled beautifully at him and Nathan’s heart skipped a beat. What
was
it about
her that always tangled him up?

“Good morning, Mason. What brings you here?” she asked brightly.

“Same thing as you, I imagine,” Mason answered.

Nathan took the opportunity to study her while she looked at his brother. Her hairline
was blonde dappled with gray, and her cheeks looked thin. Stress lines touched the
corners of her full lips, and her once sparkling blue eyes were dulled to the point
they almost looked gray. And the dark rings underneath them told Nathan that her
bright, happy persona was just an act this morning. She looked like she hadn’t been
sleeping well, and he wished there was something he could do to help her out.

She looked at him, and pain flashed through her eyes, but surprisingly she held his
stare. He had to look away; the urge to wrap her in his arms was too strong. He noticed
Captain Little standing at the end of the hallway, watching them. Grumbling under
his breath, Nathan settled his shoulders against the wall. He looked back at Janelle
and Mason and saw both sets of eyes focused on him. Mason raised an eyebrow, an expectant
look in his eyes as he tilted his head toward Janelle.

Nathan knew he should say something, but the conversation he wanted to have with
her couldn’t be had in front of his brother. “How are you?” he finally managed to
ask, and a look of disappointment crossed her features.

“Good.” Janelle clasped her hands in front of her, her gaze shifted over his shoulder.

“How are the kids?” Nathan stood up straight and took a step toward her.

Janelle’s lips came together in a tight smile as she lowered her gaze. “They’re fine,”
she said abruptly. “And Kelsey, too.”

“Good.” Nathan nodded. She wouldn’t look at him and that bothered him more than he’d
expected. There was a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, and he took another
step toward her.

Her wide eyes focused on him for a moment before she turned her entire body toward
Mason, giving Nathan her shoulder.

He knew then that he was losing her.

“Mason, I’ve wanted to ask you about the funeral.” She paused as Mason acknowledged
her statement. “Why did you leave early?”

Nathan thought the more important question was . . . why had either of them even
been at Richard’s funeral?

“For the reasons you think,” Mason answered, giving Janelle a small smile. Janelle
grinned slightly in return and Nathan had the feeling he was missing something.

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciated your support.”

“What happened at the funeral?” Nathan’s curiosity was piqued. This wasn’t right.
She was supposed to share secrets, no matter the size, with him. Not his married,
younger brother.

Janelle looked over her shoulder at him and opened her mouth.

“Are you ready, Janelle?”

George Morgan walked toward them, stopping and placing his palm on his daughter’s
back. Janelle nodded, and her father walked past her and down the hall. She watched
him for a moment then turned back to face Nathan.

“If you’d answer your phone, maybe you’d know,” Janelle said, finally answering Nathan’s
question. She turned and smiled at Mason, then followed George to the interrogation
room where he stood, waiting in the doorway.

Nathan waited for the door to close behind them before he looked at his brother again.
Mason raised a curious eyebrow, and Nathan ignored it. He walked in the opposite
direction Janelle and her father had just gone, and Mason slowly followed.

“Lover’s spat?” Mason asked, his voice laced with humor.

“Shut up,” Nathan muttered in response as they continued past the desks and toward
the front door. Mason was kind enough to hold his tongue until
they were outside,
where he promptly chuckled out loud. Nathan rolled his eyes and clenched his fists
beside him, failing to see what was so funny.

“How do you not know what happened at the funeral? Have you not spoken to her since
then?” Mason rested his hips against the wall in front of the building.

“No, I haven’t talked to her in a week,” Nathan confessed.

“Really? Still pissed that she didn’t tell you about your daughter?” All signs of
Mason’s professionalism had disappeared, leaving the annoying brother persona behind.