Till Justice Is Served (2 page)

The desperation in Jeff's voice pulled all of Rafe's strings. "Maybe you better back up and tell me what's going on."

"A few years back, Lotty had a stroke," Jeff said, easing down onto the couch. "Erin used the excuse that she was tired of the big-city schools and moved home. She really came back to help us out."

"I remember Dad saying Lotty had been ill. How is she?"

"Doing well. I was lucky and got her to the hospital before permanent damage was done."

"Good to hear. So Erin decided to stay?"

"She's the upper school counselor at Westbrook Hills High School. She worked hard with these kids, giving them someone they could talk to and trust. All of that went to hell the day she reported a student for drug possession. That girl and her friends launched an all-out vendetta to discredit Erin."

"This student she reported has turned up dead?"

"Yeah. The police are looking at Erin for the murder. It's preposterous. Just stupid to waste time grilling Erin when they could be looking for the real killer."

"Shortest distance between two points. Erin's the logical suspect."

"In the spirit of showing her innocence, she drove to the precinct at their request."

"What she needs is a good attorney."

Jeff leaned back on the couch as if exhausted. "I've already called one, but I need you to investigate this mess. Unofficially, of course. Hell, boy, you were a big-shot football hero. Nobody would blink if you turned up for a visit. Whoever sold that student the drugs probably killed her to keep her from rolling over."

Just the reference to drugs and that school lit up Rafe's hot buttons. Nick had started using while attending Westbrook High.

Jeff leaned over and picked up a picture from the coffee table. He ran a finger around the dusty edges of the frame. Rafe's heart grew heavy. The snapshot was of him, Luke, and Nick standing next to Jeff's old pickup. Rafe and his brothers had loved fishing with Jeff and their dad. The five of them would head to the lake every chance they got.

Jeff handed Rafe the picture and stood. His dad's slate-gray eyes seemed to telegraph a message he'd preached to his sons for years.
You get back what you give.
Was his father smiling at Rafe's decision to help?

"I'll see what I can find out," Rafe agreed. Jeff was hurting, and helping was the right thing to do. Erin didn't have to welcome him into her situation. It was enough that Jeff wanted help.

"I owe you." Jeff's sigh of relief made Rafe feel like shit for hesitating to help.

"No. You were always there for me and my family." He stood. "Give me a second to change, then we'll go talk with her."

****

Erin sat in the eight-by-six room and stared at the two-way mirror. She concentrated on keeping her face expressionless. Whoever watched from the other side wasn't going to see how her insides churned. That she'd refused to speak until her lawyer arrived had netted her isolation and total silence.

The door swung open, banging into the wall. She stood, her chair scraping across the floor like fingernails on a blackboard. Retired Judge Harold Penza stepped inside. He wore a black suit, white shirt, and blue tie that matched his eyes. His presence filled the room with an air of authority.

He extended his hand to Erin. He smiled, and the many wrinkles on his face deepened. The warm sparkle in his pale blue eyes gave her confidence her situation was about to get better.  

"Judge." She clung to his hand as if she was drowning and he'd just thrown her a lifeline. Quickly, she gathered her wits. "I appreciate you coming."

"It's Harold." He placed his briefcase on the table and sat directly across from her. "I'm no longer on the bench. Jeff Paulenski said you were having a bit of trouble. I'm your attorney, if you'll have me."

"Are you kidding? I'd be thrilled." To have someone on her side with the judge's experience loosened the imaginary band around her chest.

"I understand you haven't been arrested."

"No. I agreed to come to the station."

"You came voluntarily?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I want to help clear my name?"

His eyebrows furrowed. The look effectively wiped out his curmudgeonly persona. "If I'm going to represent you, I expect you to follow my instructions. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." She'd heard Harold was tough as boot leather on criminals who'd appeared in his court. Jeff respected him, and that was enough for her not to question his direction.

"Then let's get out of here."

Erin grabbed her purse and gym bag, sliding the straps over her shoulders.

Detective Wade Beckett opened the door. She'd met him last year when his niece had played basketball on Erin's team at the YMCA. Under different circumstances, she'd have thought him handsome. He was tall, had short dark hair, and warm brown eyes. Normally dressed stiff-starch perfect, today he looked a little disheveled with the top button on his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms.

He waggled the legal notepad in his hand. "We're not finished."

"Yes, we are." Harold stepped in front of her.

"Judge." The detective nodded. "I heard you were in with Ms. Brady." The detective's eyes narrowed to slits, making Erin think he didn't like going up against the judge. "You're representing her."

"I am." Harold wiggled his fingers, silently telling the detective to move. "I've advised her to speak only through me. If you have questions for my client, call my office."

"Sorry." Erin stepped past the detective, trying to avoid the chill she felt rolling between him and Harold.

"I was under the impression you wanted to clear things up, Ms. Brady," Detective Beckett said to their backs.

Harold paused and looked over his shoulder. "Your time would be better spent looking for the killer."

Detective Beckett caught up with them outside. He handed Erin his card. "Call any time."

Before she could respond, Harold looped his fingers around her bicep and propelled her across the street. "You have something to share with the police, tell me. I'll pass it on."

"I get that I'm a suspect, but pissing off the detective won't help him see my side."

"Beckett is not your friend. He'd be the devil's confidant if it helped him solve this case. We're meeting Jeff at your apartment. I'm parked over here." He gestured to the reserved parking lot. "You can fill in the details on the way."

She opened her mouth to protest that her car was in the public lot but decided against it. Arguing with Harold didn't seem like a good idea. And hitching a ride with Jeff to the police station to pick up her car wouldn't be a problem. She fell in step with Harold, trying to sort out the events of the past few days. Her career was in ruins. Her freedom in doubt. And her integrity questioned.

"When is this going to stop?" The words fell from her. Pent-up stress had driven her right to the edge of frustration. "I'm ready to rip my hair out."

"You could do that." His tone held no hint of sympathy or humor. "Or you can start at the beginning and fill me in."

"Aren't you going to ask me if I'm guilty?"

"No. I don't want to know."

C
HAPTER 3

Erin had yet to return home when Jeff and Rafe arrived. Jeff had unlocked the door and insisted they wait. Rafe used the time to inspect every aspect of her home, starting with the living room. The open floor plan gave him a quick overview. Modest furniture of laminated oak and butter-colored faux leather told him her salary was that of an underpaid educator. Her TV wasn't large, but her DVD collection hinted she enjoyed romantic comedies. A bookcase-lined wall reflected her other interests, running the gamut from books on the psychology of today's teenager to a stack of different sports magazines. A dozen trophies and plaques decorated her counters and tables.

Scattered around the room were pictures of young girls wearing YMCA basketball jerseys. A beautiful woman stood proudly behind them. Erin herself. The tall, lanky girl with the caramel-colored hair had grown into a traffic stopper.

He moved down the hall and found her bedroom. Across the hall, he wandered into her office. Rafe circled the room, walking past the desk and cloth secretary's chair, reading the titles off a stack of training manuals. He found more team pictures and sports memorabilia. Then he crossed to her bedroom. A queen-size bed, dresser, and easy chair took up most of the space. He closed his eyes and breathed in a light floral scent. Yeah, she spent most of her time at home in here. This area was her refuge. For some odd reason, he was reluctant to leave. He shook off the feeling and returned to the living room.

"So? What do you think?" Jeff held out two bottles of flavored water so Rafe could choose one.

"That she lives for others, loves sports, is frugal, and doesn't entertain a lot." He selected the least-disgusting-sounding drink, a lemon-lime something. He left out his surprise at how beautiful she'd become, remembering how disappointed his dad and Jeff had been that Rafe's relationship with Erin had ended before it began.

"How do you know she doesn't entertain a lot?"

"There is one coaster on the coffee table. One cup sitting next to the coffeepot. And the drinks you carried in here? I'm betting there was no beer, and she only keeps flavored water in the fridge. And she shouldn't leave a key hidden under the garden fairy by the door. How am I doing so far?"

"Pretty damn good." The older man smiled, and this time it looked sincere.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway drew them back into the living room. Rafe moved to the far side of the room and settled in a wing-back chair. He assumed their company was Erin and her attorney, but it was Rafe's nature to be cautious. The only weapon he carried today was the subcompact .45 strapped to his ankle, so he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His hands hung loose and at the ready.

The lock on the front door turned, and a second later, Erin stepped inside, followed by a well-dressed man. Jesus. She took his breath away.

"Jeff," Erin said, smiling warmly. "You didn't have to wait here. I would've called."

"I haven't been waiting. I've been getting help," Jeff said.

She stopped halfway across the room. Had she sensed Rafe's presence? Her head snapped to the right, and her gaze settled on him. Her eyes, the color of a sparkling emerald, delivered an icy stare.

"Come now, you remember Rafe Sirilli." Jeff slid his arm around her shoulders.

"Everybody in town remembers Rafe." Her words, coated in sarcasm, pissed him off.

She had no reason to be ticked at him. That she'd embarrassed the shit out of him was old news. A twelve-year-old scab, but who was counting?

He stood, slapped his brightest smile on his face, then crossed the room. That same fragile scent he'd noticed in her office slammed into his senses.

The urge not to stare was an internal battle. Her skin was flawless, as was her cupid's bow upper lip. Thick hair, pulled off her face and into a low ponytail, put the focus on her eyes. Her body had changed a great deal, too. Nice breasts filled out the YMCA T-shirt she wore. The nylon warm-up bottoms did little to hide the small waist or curve of her hips. She'd matured into a beautiful woman, but apparently, ice water still ran through her veins.

"I doubt that everybody remembers me." He spoke the truth. After graduation, he couldn't wait to get to college. After Nick's funeral, Rafe hadn't come home much. He wasn't proud that he hadn't been back often. It had just worked out that way. "I'm surprised that you do."

She raked her gaze over him, stopping for a minute on his long hair and two-day-old scruff. Would she still dislike the whiskers if he rubbed them along the inside of her thigh?

Shit. He had been undercover far too long.

He extended his hand, half-surprised when her palm met his. Her fingers were warm and soft against his palm. The suit that had walked in with her watched the exchange and then joined them.

"Harold Penza. I knew your daddy. He was mighty proud of his boys." Penza's tone was that of a politician up for reelection. His posture, speech, and mannerisms projected authority. Even his shiny black shoes screamed money. This was a man accustomed to getting his own way.

"Thank you." Rafe towered over him, but the man looked up and held his gaze. 

"Hell of a guy, your dad. We need more like him in law enforcement. Are you planning on sticking around?" Harold asked.

"No, sir. I don't plan on being in town for long."

"Then why are you here?" Erin's right eyebrow rose.

"I asked him to help." Jeff's Scottish lilt had thickened.

"Without talking to me?" Her voice jumped up an octave.

"Before you go off half-cocked, let me say this," Rafe said. "You don't have to like that I'm here. Doesn't mean I'm walking away if Jeff needs me." Persuading Rafe to back out now would be easy, but the words had to come from Jeff.

Her gaze met and held his. If she was looking for reassurance, he didn't have it to give. Jeff thought she was innocent, but Rafe remembered the hot-tempered teenage girl whose tongue was sharper than her long fingernails. Was she capable of murder? Given the right circumstances, wasn't everyone?

"Rafe and I are here to help," Jeff insisted to her.

"You understand that if these two sit in on our discussion, I can't guarantee everything you say will remain private." Harold set his briefcase on the coffee table. The snaps opened with a crack, and everybody except Rafe jumped.

Erin dropped to the couch as if surrendering. "For the record, I did not kill Penny. And before you ask, I was home alone last night."

"Keep that information to yourself. If anyone else asks, tell them you've been instructed by council not to comment. All questions are to be directed to me." Harold removed a legal pad from his briefcase and made a couple of notes. "Remember, the burden of proof lies with the police. Exactly what did you tell the detective?"

"Nothing," Erin said. "I called Jeff before I got to the station, and he said for me to wait for my attorney. That's all I said to Wade Beckett. He stuck me in an interrogation room to stare at the two-way mirror until you arrived."