Page 57 of Justice Delayed

“You mean because I’m not a trained law enforcement agent, it’s amazing I could pick up on such subtle changes in a person’s behavior?” The words, while spoken in a light tone, carried the weight of steel.

“Whoa.” How an innocent observation on his part triggered such an outburst, he hadn’t a clue. “I wasn’t—”

“Weren’t you?” She cut across his words. “I might not have had all the educational advantages of a traditional college, but I didn’t twiddle my thumbs behind bars either. I took whatever courses I could, and I studied hard.”

“Hey, I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” A becoming flush dotted her cheeks, but the spark in her eyes doused any tender feelings he had in the moment. “You said you believed me, but that could have been a ploy to get me to open up. Maybe you’re just like all the rest of the journalists who have hounded me over the years, after a sensational story to propel you to fame and fortune.”

Brogan’s own anger rose to the surface, fueled by the contempt in her voice. Ignoring the nudge that warned him against impetuous rebuttal, he plunged in. “I’ve been upfront with you from the start. If anything, you’ve been using me to further your own ends.”

“And what ends would that be?”

Her voice had dropped, along with her head. Something about her posture spoke of loneliness and uncertainty. Still he let frustration with the case and conflicted feelings for Melender override the voice that cautioned him to respond with gentleness.

“I understand you want to prove your innocence, but to find someone else to blame for Jesse’s kidnapping and death so you won’t have to own up to any part in it is wrong.”

For a long moment, Melender just stared out of the windshield. She didn’t say a word, the whiteness of her face a stark contrast to its earlier flush of anger. She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, and squeezed her eyes closed. A single tear edged out as if wrung from a washcloth.

In the growing silence, his words hung between them like a chasm too big to bridge. He’d regretted the words as soon as he had uttered them.Lord, forgive me.An apology formed on his lips, but he couldn’t find his voice because part of him still wasn’t sure she was completely innocent in the case. He did believe her, but he was beginning to wonder if she had repressed the memories of what happened that night and truly thought she had nothing to do with Jesse’s disappearance.

“I’d like to go back to your uncle’s now, please.” The request seemed to come from a different person than the one who minutes before angrily demanded he see her side of things. Now her voice hesitated, and she sounded tired, as if someone had deflated her like a tire losing its air.

At a loss as to how to verbally respond, he pulled out of the parking space, driving back to Fairfax in silence. An eighties music station on Sirius XM filled the void of conversation and kept at bay his insistent heart commanding him to make things right with her.

* * *

Brogan foundspace at the curb near the end of the Trent’s block to park. Although incensed by Melender’s demand to get out of the vehicle once she’d spotted the house, he refused to be sucked into another conflict with this beautiful but headstrong young woman.

After responding to a couple of work-related texts and calls on his cell phone, he dialed into his desk phone. Fallon insisted all reporters have a published number that rang to theHeraldoffices. Brogan had only one phone message, time stamped at eleven a.m. that morning from former FBI Special Agent Stanley Presley, who simply stated his name and asked for a return call.

Puzzled, Brogan punched in the number Presley had given. The call was answered on the second ring. “Stanley Presley.”

“Hi, it’s Brogan Gilmore with theHeraldreturning your call.”

“Mr. Gilmore, I hear you’re looking into the Jesse Thompson case.”

“How did you know that?”

“Let’s not waste time with superfluous questions. I think you might like to hear what I have to say about the matter.”

Brogan hadn’t considered his query gratuitous but let it go in favor of setting up a meeting with Presley. No sense in antagonizing the man beforehand by pressing how the agent found out about Brogan and Melender’s actions. “I’m free now. Where would be a convenient place for us to meet?”

“The Starbucks in Kamp Washington near the HoneyBaked Ham store. Can you be there in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be there.” Good thing Brogan was less than ten minutes away from the location. As he drove to the destination, he tried to tamp down his excitement over whatever Presley had to say and whether it would be another chink in the case against Melender or drive another nail of guilt in her coffin.

* * *

“She came to see you?”Quentin held the phone tightly to his ear and angled his body away from Ruby, who reclined on a chaise lounge beside their pool.

Jared mumbled something his father didn’t catch, then said more clearly, “She and that reporter, Brogan something. She asked me why I’d lied in court, pointing out that what I said differed from what was in the police transcript.”

Quentin firmed his jaw as Jared berated Melender in colorful language. Underneath his son’s tirade, he smelled fear. “No one’s going after you, not on a case that has gone to trial with a successful conviction. Melender’s served her time, so now she’s free to stir things up. She’s probably nitpicking these kinds of anomalies to deal with what she did.”

Jared exhaled into the phone. “I checked one of those Virginia law sites online, and there’s no statute of limitations on perjury. I could be sent to prison.”

“That’s only if a prosecutor brought charges against you.” Quentin didn’t want to reveal to his son why he knew that tidbit but doubted Jared would even ask.

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