Page 82 of Justice Delayed

“I had a change of heart overnight.” Jared wasn’t about to explain that he wanted to cut a deal by revealing what he knew about the night Jesse disappeared. His father would kill him if he found out, and Jared wasn’t sure that the sentiment would only be a figure of speech. Dad had given him a home after the acrimonious divorce from Jared’s mother, who had been quick to abandon her son in favor of jetting around the world with various lovers. Jared and his father had gotten along fine until Ruby entered the picture. Then his father’s allegiance had been to his new wife followed by his new children. Jared had been relegated to the sidelines, which he hadn’t minded too much, since he had been a teenager when they married.

But his father wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice Jared if it meant keeping Ruby and Jillian safe. Jared suspected that Stabe wouldn’t let a little thing like attorney-client privilege stop him from sharing what Jared said in confidence.

“A change of heart.” Stabe narrowed his eyes. “Listen up. You better not be changing your story at this late game. Your father—”

“You see, that’s the problem. This is not about my father. It’s about me and my life. You are more concerned with how this will play out for my dad than you are in making sure I get a fair deal. So I repeat. I do not want you as my attorney.”

Stabe held his gaze for a long moment, but Jared didn’t waver. Finally, the older man shrugged. “Have it your way.” He grabbed his briefcase and stalked toward the door, knocking firmly before turning back. “You’d better think long and hard about whatever it is you’re planning to do. Your father has many friends in high places.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Jared broke eye contact as the door opened.

“Everything okay in here?” Collier asked, her gaze swinging from Jared to Stabe.

Stabe paused in the doorway as if giving Jared one more chance to change his mind, then shook his head. “I’m no longer representing Mr. Thompson.”

ChapterThirty-Two

Melender slid her omelet onto a plate next to two slices of buttered toast. Her breakfast plate in hand, she stepped around the Trents’ cat, who had sprawled in a patch of late afternoon sun. She couldn’t wait to introduce Goliath to the orange tabby named Bo, but her cat needed some more time to adjust to his new surroundings in the downstairs apartment.

“I wish I could sleep more.” It had been hard to fall asleep this morning following her overnight shift. She eyed the cat for a moment, but the feline didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

After a quick blessing over the food, Melender dug in, hoping the meal would revive her sluggish brain. Brogan had taped a note to her door alerting her that Livingston was helping them. Surely that meant the detective thought justice had not been served with her conviction, but she couldn’t quite banish the small voice that said maybe Livingston simply wanted what everyone else did—for her to reveal the whereabouts of Jesse’s body.

Her cell phone rang. As Brogan’s name flashed on the screen, a smile blossomed on her face. “Hello?”

“I was hoping you were awake.” Brogan’s excitement hummed through the phone. “I’m about ten minutes away. Can you be ready to go when I get there?”

Melender shoved her messy hair back. She always showered when she got home from work in the morning, but she had yet to get dressed. “I think so. What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.” Brogan clicked off before Melender could question him.

After quickly finishing her meal, she dumped her plate in the dishwasher, then dashed for the stairs. Nine minutes later, she buckled her seatbelt in Brogan’s SUV. “What’s going on?”

Brogan grinned at her. “You’ll see.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

When he shook his head, she playfully slapped his arm. “Brogan, that’s not fair.”

His expression turned serious. “If I explain it, it won’t make as much sense as if you hear it. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Can you trust me?”

“I suppose so.” His words sent the butterflies in her stomach racing at top speed. She pressed a hand over her midsection, but it didn’t help to calm them.

The two rode in silence until Brogan pulled into the parking lot of a nondescript building. “Where are we?”

“One of the labs that processes evidence for the Fairfax County Police Department.” Brogan parked in a visitor’s slot, then opened his door.

Melender joined him on the sidewalk. “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see.” Brogan reached back and grabbed her hand. The unexpected gesture warmed her insides but did little to settle the butterflies.

In the lobby, he strode to the receptionist and gave their names. “Detective Livingston’s expecting us.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here. If you care to wait over there…” the receptionist gestured toward a grouping of couches and club chairs around a low glass coffee table spread with magazines.

“Thanks.” Brogan led the way, then took a seat. He tugged her onto the couch beside him, angling to face her.

“Brogan, what are we doing here?” Melender stared into his blue eyes, which danced with excitement.

---