Page 49 of Best Laid Plans

"Like what?" he demanded, his face contorting with anger and fear.

"Did you leave her alone in a jail cell with Raymond Carre?" As soon as the words were out, I knew she hadn't lied. It was written all over my friend's face.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it wasn't quite like that."

"Okay, tell me what it was like." Fire roared through me. I wanted to pound my fists into Pete.

He looked at his drink. "She tried to run away."

I raised both my eyebrows in disbelief. "An eighteen-year-old, scared-as-hell girl tried to run away?"

"An eighteen-year-old thief who'd been stringin' you along for nearly a year did," he countered.

He was right. If I could believe she stole, I had to believe she'd try to run. My jaw clenched. I waved a hand, silently asking him to go on.

"The phone was ringing off the hook, and I just shoved her into a cell. I had things to deal with."

I was ready to beat the crap out of Pete. "How long did it take you to deal with things?"

He had the decency to look guilty. "I don't know…a while."

I focused on breathing. She hadn't lied. If she didn't lie about this, maybe I should believe her about everything else.

"Did you really find jewelry in her apartment?" I asked, and I saw a flash of hurt in my friend's eyes.

"Are you accusin' me of somethin', Anson?"

"Yeah, I am. Did you frame her?" I asked.

He looked baffled. "How'd I even do that? I didn't conjure up the jewelry or create the security video from thin air."

He looked sincere enough. "Did Carre rape her?"

Pete now looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him. "I don't know. She was…he beat her up. I was going to let her go. I'm going to be honest with you about that 'cause I felt like she was already punished."

I remembered what Nova had told me. "Three broken ribs, a black eye, a split lip, a concussion, and bruises all over my body."

"I hadn't expected someone to show up. Then an ADA, her lawyer, and freakin' Emmett Bodine's fixer all get there, ready to break down the cell door to get to her. The Governor's chief of staff calls someone who calls my father, who calls me." He shook his head wearily. "I made a deal with the ADA. I let her go, and she didn't press charges on me for…well…the Carre thing."

"Why didn't you just tell me what happened? Why say the ADA thought there wasn't enough evidence?" I asked.

He looked contrite. "I was ashamed, alright. You're my best friend, Anson, and I couldn't get that girl behind bars for you. I couldn't get you justice."

I wanted to kill him for putting Nova in harm's way. She didn't deserve that for stealing. That wasn't justice. But one thing was sure; she had paid for the wrongs she committed. She was desperate, I knew that. It was my fault for showing her the jewelry and letting her see the PIN for the safe. The jewelry she took was worth nearly thirty grand. It wasn't the money. I didn't give a shit about that. It was the dishonesty, it was her lack of trust in me, it was her not loving me, it was her wanting the Larue name and money like everyone else.

"She didn't go to the hospital here, or I'd have heard about it." I looked at my empty glass of whiskey, feeling tremendously old and tired.

"They took her elsewhere. I don't know where," Pete admitted. "I was scared I was going to lose my job. I'm sorry, Anson."

"You never followed up to find out what the state of her injuries were?" I asked.

Pete frowned. "Why would I? Look, I know it went to hell in a handbasket that night, but she deserved everythin' she got for playin' you." He sighed deeply. "I talked to Bailey, told her what the fuck went down. And she said you wouldn't care, that you'd actually be happy about it. That you hated Nova. I didn't need more people to know. You understand, right?"

Everything inside me went cold. Bailey had known and never told me. She'd known, and she'd treated Nova the way she had when she saw her again. She didn't have an ounce of compassion for a woman who may have been raped. She didn't know that Nova hadn't been, neither did Pete, who hadn't cared to even find out.

"No, Pete, I don't understand." I stood up and looked down at him. "She stole, yes, but she didn't deserve to be brutalized by a bigoted rapist—you caused that. I don't know whether you did it on purpose or by accident or—"

"Come on, Anson, you asked me to make sure she got hurt." Pete pushed his chair back, stood up, and got right in my face. "You said, I quote, 'I wanna make sure she pays a heavy price for fuckin' with me.' I made sure of that. So, don't turn around and give me your sanctimonious bullshit. ‘Cause that's you bein' a hypocrite."

---