Page 52 of Justice Delayed

Agent Martinez: Your father told us that he gives you a very generous allowance.

Mr. Thompson: Generous by his standards, maybe, but me, I got expenses.

Agent Cane: What kind of expenses?

When Melender stopped reading, Brogan leaned forward. “Is something wrong?”

She flipped the page over. “It just abruptly ends. There’s a note.Interview terminated by arrival of Mr. Thompson’s attorney. No further questions permitted at this time.”

“Is there another transcript in the file?” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop as Melender sorted through the papers.

“No, that’s the last interview with Jared in these records.” Her eyes met Brogan’s. “Wonder why they didn’t continue the interview later with the attorney present.”

“A very good question.” He pushed back from the table. “Interested in finding out?”

She closed the folder. “What did you have in mind?”

He checked the time on his phone. Three o’clock. “With any luck, he’ll be home.”

“Who?” Melender rose as well.

“Jared.”

ChapterTwenty-One

Melender snapped the seatbelt buckle into place, trying not to let her excitement with a tinge of fear show. She hadn’t seen her cousin since Jared’s courtroom testimony. Then, she’d wanted to scream at him to tell the truth instead of the lies he spewed about Jesse’s last night in the Thompson house.

Brogan touched her hand. “Are you sure you want to come?”

Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly to calm her racing heart. “Yes.” She met his gaze. The compassion in his eyes tipped the balance for her to share her thoughts. “I’ve read the court transcript so many times over the years, it began to feel like it wasn’t my story, like it happened to someone else. Here, now, on our way to confront Jared face-to-face makes it real, and all the feelings from the arrest and trial have come rushing back.”

“But this time, I’ll be right beside you.” His quiet words lifted some of the fear threatening to take hold of her again.

With a mental admonishment, she reminded herself that he wasn’t truly on her side. She needed to keep that foremost in her mind before she started spinning stories of a happily ever after that could only reside in a fairy tale. “For the story.”

Brogan cranked up the A/C to ward off the sticky afternoon heat but kept the vehicle in park. “For the story.” He entered in an address to the car’s GPS system. “But also because I believe there’s more to what happened that night and after than the official version played out in court.”

To avoid letting him see how much his agreement with her statement hurt, she focused her attention on the map now showing the location of 1816 N. Queens Lane, Arlington, Virginia, within the community of Colonial Village. She tightened her hands together on her lap.

“Melender.”

Keeping her gaze on the screen even though the blinking blue dot wasn’t moving along the outlined route, she didn’t answer, unsure if her voice would be steady or not.

Instead of putting the car in gear, his hand covered both of hers. Such strong hands. The memory of Brogan stroking her hair yesterday while she cried brought a wave of desire to be in his arms again. But that was foolishness. He was a journalist looking for a story to bring him back into favor. She was using him just as much as he was using her. Hadn’t she learned that lesson over and over in prison? That was how you survived—by making sure the balance of favors stayed as even as possible.

Brogan removed his hand, but before she could miss the contact, he cupped her chin to tip her head toward his. “That’s not the whole truth.”

The intensity of his gaze had her heart racing in an entirely different way. Not of fear, but of anticipation. The interior of his SUV suddenly shrank, his face mere inches away from hers. With difficulty, she tried to catch hold of the conversational thread. Something about not being the entire truth. Since he seemed to be waiting for a response, she queried, “It’s not?”

“No.” He slid his hand from her chin to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling with the hairs that had escaped her ponytail.

She licked her suddenly-dry lips to voice another question. “What did you leave out?”

His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there. He shifted closer, so near his breath brushed against her face. “That it’s not just the case I find fascinating.”

“It’s not?” Good grief, couldn’t she think of something else to say? But her thoughts jumbled together at the sensation of his fingers massaging her neck and his darkening irises. She could barely remember why they were in the car, much less what they were talking about.

“You.” He exerted slight pressure with his hand to draw her face toward him.

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