Page 7 of Justice Denied

Emily listened to the classical hold music, wondering if Mae was the same Mae who used to work in accounting under her husband. Maybe she would ask when the woman came back on the line, but the call disconnected abruptly. She debated calling back but decided she would wait before poking the bear again. As she considered her next move, an idea blossomed, one that might accomplish two things at the same time. She would suggest Jetta help her clear Jay’s name with the assistance of Seth Whitman, that nice young man who lived next door and worked forTheHerald. Reporters knew all about ferreting out secrets, didn’t they?

But she would have to tread carefully and make it seem like Jetta’s idea. Her youngest had an independent streak a mile wide and didn’t like to be told what to do. Emily had a feeling that attribute would come in handy in the search for the truth about who’d gotten away with millions—and falsely blamed her husband for the crime.

* * *

Jetta tookthe final sip of her cookies-and-cream milkshake. While she’d been hungry earlier, hearing about the dead raccoon had zapped her appetite, and she’d thought she wouldn’t be able to choke down any food. But during their meal, Seth entertained her with hilarious tales of photographing events forTheNorthern Virginia Herald, and before she realized it, she’d eaten all of her nuggets and waffle fries.

“So there’s the Falls Church mayor chasing his ball cap down the sidewalk as the wind keeps tossing it hither and yon.” Seth held out his phone to show her the picture he’d snapped.

She chuckled at the usually dignified mayor running after the cartwheeling Nationals ball cap. “Did the paper run the photo?”

He shook his head. “No, my editor went with the more formal one, but the one I showed you is my favorite of that series.” He gathered their wrappers and put it in the kitchen trashcan.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” He washed his hands in the sink.

“For taking my mind off of what happened to Bingley and that poor raccoon.”

“My pleasure.”

The simple words rang with such sincerity, she believed him.

“I should be going. Before I head to work in the morning, I can check your yard for what Bingley and the raccoon ate.”

His offer didn’t surprise her, but she reminded herself that the more she relied on him, the more he might think she cared for him beyond friendship. “I don’t want to put you out. You’ve already done so much for me with Bingley and taking care of the raccoon.”

“I don’t mind.”

That was the trouble—he liked helping her, and while she knew he didn’t expect anything in return, the lopsidedness of their relationship had begun to grate on her nerves. But that could be her advanced state of pregnancy talking. Everything had started to irritate her. Even her mother had commented on Jetta’s snappiness of late.

She rubbed the small of her back as the baby stretched in her belly, then capitulated as gracefully as she could manage. “Then I accept.”

“Consider it done.” But the lines across his forehead deepened instead of receding with her acquiescence.

Usually he seemed pleased when she accepted his help. “What’s the matter?”

“I was thinking how weird it is your dog and the raccoon both ate ibuprofen. I mean, it’s not like people dump bottles of the stuff around a neighborhood.” He paused, as if debating with himself on whether he should continue. Staring down at the granite countertop, he spoke to the slab. “I looked more closely at the raccoon’s, er, vomit when cleaning it up, and it appeared the pills had been mixed with chunks of meat.”

“What are you implying?” But her mind had already gone there, and she placed her hand on her chest to still her suddenly racing heart.

“I think someone might have deliberately tried to poison your dog.”

“But why would anyone do that?” Jetta couldn’t believe anyone would want to harm Bingley. She might not have had him very long, but he was a wonderful pet.

“You haven’t had any run-ins in the neighborhood about Bingley?”

“No, everyone seems so nice. He’s a friendly dog. I grew up in this neighborhood. It’s a safe place.” But it didn’t feel so safe now, if he was right about it being a deliberate act.

“You don’t have any enemies?”

“No.” But even as she denied it, a face contorted with rage flashed in her mind’s eye. Kyle was in Chicago and wasn’t stupid—surely, he wouldn’t do anything to revoke his plea agreement. She interpreted Seth’s raised eyebrows as indicating his skepticism of her denial. She would probably not believe herself either.

When she stayed silent, he broke eye contact but not before she glimpsed sadness in his chocolate-brown eyes. “I’ll let you know where I find any contaminated meat or pills.”

“Thanks again.” She closed the front door behind him. Then his last sentence snagged her attention. Seth hadn’t saidifhe’d find something butwhere, as if he fully expected to locate the source of Bingley’s sickness and the raccoon’s death. Her denials notwithstanding, Seth believed someone had indeed deliberately targeted her dog—and by extension, Jetta herself.

ChapterFour

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