Sugar Free (20 page)

As soon as I'm in my car and pulling into traffic, I call Dennis.

It's more than time.

By my rough calculations, he should be in Panama and is probably on a boat right now pulling in some marlin or other sport fish, so I'm not surprised when I get his voice mail. I'm sure it will be sitting behind some calls from the police wanting to verify my alibi the day of JT's death.

“Dennis, it's Beck. I need you to call me ASAP. Sela and I are in a world of trouble. We need help.”

I disconnect, knowing that my message is going to knock the breath out of him. I'm sure he's enjoying a nice vacation, drinking beer with his buddies and figuring JT was in the midst of transitioning out of the business and Sela would be having a long-overdue chat with the police about her rapist.

He's in for one hell of a surprise.

I don't head home the way Doug suggested. I make my way to Belle Haven instead because I need to have a very immediate and important talk with William Halstead, Sela's dad. This shit with Sela will be hitting the news quickly and he does not need to be finding out this crap on TV.

He's been kept fully in the loop on what's been going on, and I've talked to him a few times over the last few days when he calls Sela to check in. I know he doesn't owe me the benefit of the doubt, but he's given it, throwing his full support behind me and trusting in Sela and me when we tell him that I had nothing to do with JT's death.

That's going to make what I'm getting ready to tell him extremely difficult.

As I navigate my way through the rush-hour traffic, I take a deep breath and dial William on his cell phone. Sela gave me his number not long ago but I've never called him yet, so he won't recognize my number.

I'm grateful when he answers on the third ring.

“It's Beck,” I tell him. “First, know that Sela is fine, but something bad has happened and I need to talk to you about it.”

“Where are you?” he asks briskly, not bothering to pump me for information.

“I can be at your house in about an hour,” I tell him. “I'm coming from Sausalito.”

“Assuming you won't tell me over the phone, because I can hear it in your voice that it's really bad, meet me instead at the Starbucks in Millbrae; it's on Broadway. We can both be there in about half an hour.”

“Got it,” I say.

“And, Beck…you swear she's okay?” he asks fearfully.

“Physically, yes,” I tell him truthfully. “But she's in some trouble and it's going to be on the news soon. I need to fill you in.”

“Fuck,” he curses low, and it's the first time I've heard him say that. “Okay…drive fast. I'll see you soon.”

Jail sucked. While I was given a cell to myself, the temperature was too cold, the mattress too lumpy, and my blanket too scratchy. The food was barely palatable and the strange noises around me kept me awake all night.

Guess what, Sela? Prison will be even worse.

I try not to think of that just yet, because I've got a million other things to worry about. While it's probably a foregone conclusion I'm going down hard for JT's murder, there are so many other things I need to put right in my life. Mainly I'm worried about Beck, my father, and Caroline, all three who sat stoically behind me through the entire arraignment proceeding. I haven't been able to talk to them, although my attorney, Kerry Suttenson, brought me a navy-blue dress from Beck this morning. It had an open neckline but there was no need to hide the bruises at this point, although they were almost gone.

I had met Kerry briefly yesterday morning after I was processed. Beck's attorney kindly stayed with me until she arrived, informing me that it was a conflict for him to represent me but that Beck had hired me an exceptional lawyer.

And Kerry certainly seemed exceptional. She was tall with dark blond hair that was thick and wavy and serious, deep-set eyes. She commanded attention and her manner was brisk and efficient. I didn't get a single ounce of sympathy from her when we were able to meet for about ten minutes before I was to be taken to the sheriff's department for holding, and I suspect it was because our time was limited. I told her about my history with JT and she nodded while taking notes, pausing every once in a while to clarify an issue.

When we were done, she said, “Sela, I'm not going to lie, self-defense is going to be a hard sell.”

I looked at her glumly. “I know…no evidence and all that.”

She gathered up her notepad and briefcase and stood from the table we were sitting at in a private room. “I very rarely advise a defendant to take the stand in their own defense, but it's the only chance we have to prove it was self-defense. You're going to have to get up there and tell the entire story from the start.”

“I can do that,” I said in quiet acknowledgment.

I can most definitely do that because I have absolutely nothing to lose. As it stands now, I have not a single thing but my name and the truth, and perhaps life in prison if the jury doesn't buy my truth.

So she left and I went to jail for the first time in my life. I made it through last night, but felt like an utter zombie when Kerry met me at the courthouse. I silently changed into my dress while she went over the arraignment procedure. I only half listened because I'd been through it with Beck and knew what to expect. My attention was piqued a little though when she said, “Mr. North has already made arrangements for your bail so you should be able to go home today.”

And now I'm left wondering what home even means anymore as I'm being processed out of the sheriff's department. I'm given a plastic bag that contains my jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes I came in with yesterday, as well as my purse. My gun had long been confiscated since I'd offered it to the police, and Kerry told me that my car had been impounded as well to check for evidence.

Kerry walks beside me out of the sheriff's department where I find Beck and my father waiting for me, and I assume Caroline must have gone back to Healdsburg.

Yeah…no clue what home means to me right now, but my gut instinct tells me I'll be moving back home to Belle Haven. I know that Beck has to be beyond pissed at me and my breach of his trust is not going to be forgiven easily. I know how Beck feels about honesty and transparency, and the only thing I've shown him in the last twenty-four hours is a woman clouded with shadow and deceit.

Kerry puts a hand on my shoulder and I turn to face her. “I'll see you next Monday in my office so we can get ready for your preliminary hearing. You're going to need to take the stand like we discussed. I think it's worth a shot for Judge Reyes to go ahead and hear what your testimony will be. I think there's virtually no chance he's going to drop the charges against you based on your testimony alone, but we have to take the opportunity to try.”

I nod, my head still a little foggy and reeling from everything that's happened. “Whatever. I just want Beck out of all this trouble.”

Her eyes stare at me intently for a moment before she sighs. “Yeah…well, I'll let you talk to Beck about that.”

Not very reassuring on her part, but I still feel good about her representing me. My preliminary hearing is set for Tuesday because Monday is Martin Luther King Day and the courts are closed. But it appears Kerry and I will be working that day to prepare for what I've come to think of as my snowball's-chance-in-hell defense.

“Take care, Sela,” Kerry says as she turns away and starts across the parking lot to where she must be parked.

I slowly turn around, bracing myself against the reactions of the two most important people in my world. I simply can't bear to see condemnation and disgust in Beck's eyes; the easier burden is to see the disappointment in my daddy's.

So I look at him first, and find his head tilted with a soft smile of gentle love on his face. In that one look, I know that Beck has told him the entire truth of what happened that night and he still loves me no matter what. My dad opens his arms, and in five steps, I'm wrapped in a hug. I turn my face away from where Beck is standing and put my cheek against his bulky chest while he squeezes me hard.

“It's okay, baby,” he practically coos at me. “I've got your back. You're going to get out of this just fine.”

My dad…my rock. Just like when I was raped.

“It's okay, baby. Your mom and I love you and will protect you forever. You'll never get hurt like this again.”

Those were sweet words back then, but I didn't believe them. I was so paranoid about getting attacked again for the longest time, I distrusted every person who tried to reassure me of my safety.

Just like I don't believe his words now. There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this.

I pull away from my dad, still refusing to look at Beck, who is standing no more than two feet from us. When my dad looks down at me, I say in a shaky voice, “Can we go home?”

My dad looks hesitantly at Beck, and even though I'm not looking his way, I can feel the irritation vibrating off him.

“For fuck's sake, Sela,” Beck grits out, and his hand is then on my arm, turning me to face him. “Your home is with me.”

“But—”

“You're coming back to the condo with me,” he rolls right over me.

I pull my arm away, take a step back. Beck looks pissed and hurt at the same time. I notice my father turns from us and walks a few feet away to give us privacy. This tells me immediately that he is siding with Beck on this. By the mere fact that my father isn't pulling me down the street to his car right this minute tells me that he thinks I belong with Beck.

I just can't believe that.

Turning back to Beck, I nervously tuck my hair behind my ears with both hands and tell him with a raised chin, “Beck, don't you think this is over between us? I got you caught up in my crime, and I'm now trying to make things right. But to do that, you've got to let me go.”

“You seriously can't be that naïve,” he says curtly with narrowed eyes. And damn…he looks so beautiful even in his complete disgruntlement with me. Nothing would make me happier than to just walk right into him, snuggle in tight, and hang on.

Never let go.

But that's a pipe dream now.

My dad turns around quickly on us and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Honey, why don't we all go to the condo and talk this through. Beck and I have some thoughts, and frankly, you two need each other more than ever.”

“How can you even say that?” I ask him in astonishment. “I've ruined our lives by my actions.”

Beck makes a scoffing noise, but when I risk a glance at him, he's still glowering, his hands now shoved deep in his pockets.

“Sela,” my dad says calmly. “Let's go to the condo. We've got things to discuss, and when we're done, if you want to come home with me, I'll take you there. Okay?”

What I really want to do is stick my head in the sand, my ass in the air, and become the proverbial ostrich. I want to ignore all of this, go to my childhood bed and stay in with the covers pulled over my head until they come to cart me away forever.

But one more hard look at Beck, past the anger in his eyes, I still see a deep and abiding love within them. No matter how mad he is at me, I don't think I killed the good stuff.

At least I hope.

I look at my dad and nod. “Okay. Let's go.”

I rode in the backseat of Beck's car, my dad in the front. I really wanted to ask my dad where his car was, but the silence was so heavy I was afraid my words would sound like a thunderclap. Besides, I have to assume it's at Beck's place and they rode to the courthouse together as a means of solidarity.

Once we get to the condo, Beck goes straight to the kitchen to make coffee and some tea, while I mumble about wanting a quick shower. I didn't get one at the sheriff's department today, although I was given a bar of soap to wash my face, as well as a small toothbrush with what felt like bamboo stakes for bristles and a flat-tasting toothpaste. I felt the grunge of crime sticking to me and needed to wash it off.

I come back into the living room, my long hair wet and wrapped up in a bun, but otherwise fully dressed and ready to hightail it out of here when we're done. I sit on the couch beside my dad and see a cup of tea cooling before me on the coffee table. Beck is standing near the window-wall with his hands in his pockets.

He appears ready for a difficult conversation, much like he did when I told him all the details of my rape. He doesn't look as uncomfortable, but still a bit angry and wary of me.

Yes…of me.

There's something about me and my presence in his life at this moment that is making him wary.

I'm totally going home with my dad tonight.

No doubt.

With a regretful sigh, I look at Beck and say, “I'm sorry I went behind your back to the police station. But I don't regret my actions.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” he says bitterly. “If you did, you'd have to admit how stupid that was.”

This pisses me off, and even though my dad says “Sela” on a low note of warning, I stand from the couch, pin him with my death glare, and say, “You should be thanking me, Beck.”

“Oh yeah…how's that?” he snaps back at me.

“Because I'm taking responsibility for my crime. I'm freeing you so you can go on with your life, and I'm doing that because I love you.”

In three long steps, Beck crosses the room toward me, coming to stand on the opposite side of the coffee table. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, babe, because clearly you're in the dark, but your confessing to this crime didn't free me at all. It just ensured we're going to be tried together as coconspirators in JT's death.”

“What?” I gasp, actually falling back down to the couch in a defeated slump.

“The ADA isn't going to drop the charges against me,” he says, and his words slice into me like a million paper cuts. “She has no reason to. Nothing you've told them disproves that I did it.”

“But it's a confession,” I mutter, glancing down at my tea because I can't stand to see the look of reproach in Beck's eyes. “They should accept it and be done with this.”

“Oh grow up, Sela,” Beck says in frustration with his hands out. “This isn't all about you, you know.”

“Okay, that's enough,” my dad says, and levels Beck with a look that says
shut the fuck up.
Then he turns that same look on me. “What's done is done. Now it's time to figure out what to do about it.”

Beck turns away, walks over to the windows again, and stares out, his arms crossed over his chest. I have no clue what to say. I mean, I just assumed that when I met with Kerry next week, we'd prepare and hope for the best at the preliminary hearing. I also assumed the judge would find enough evidence to hold me over for trial. Then I assumed that the ADA would come to Kerry and offer some sort of plea deal so that this could all go away and she'd get a mark in her win column.