Page 92 of Justice Denied

Her mother’s words stopped her cold, anger boiling over in a nanosecond. “How dare you ask me that!” Her heart beat faster. “I’ve prayed God would bring justice, that he would heal me body and soul, that he would give me love for this baby. Of course I’ve prayed about it.”

Her mother’s steady gaze bore into her as the baby squirmed in Jetta’s arms. “But have you prayed for God’s help in forgiving your ex?”

“He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness!” The words tore out of her, shattering the fragile peace the birth of her baby had granted her. “He stole my virginity, my dignity. He took what wasn’t his to take and ruined my chances to find a good man.”

“A good man like Seth?”

“Yes, like Seth.” Sobs shook Jetta’s frame so hard that the baby whimpered. She didn’t object when her mother rose and took the baby from her arms. “But I’m too broken for anyone to want.”

“Oh, Jetta. You’re not broken. God doesn’t look on you and see someone who’s broken beyond repair. God looks on you and sees a sinner washed in the blood of Christ, his precious son. In Jesus, you’re whole and clean.” Mom rocked the baby. “He even brought you a man who understands what you’ve been through and has the patience and love to come alongside you as you work through things.”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. Seth deserves someone who doesn’t need fixing.”

Mom kissed the baby’s head. “You’re wrong, but you’ll need to figure that out for yourself.”

Jetta ignored the tears slipping down her cheeks—and her mother’s words. She was trying to do the right thing, the honorable thing, and save Seth from sacrificing his happiness on someone as messed up as she was. Sure, he would probably say he could love her and another man’s baby, but over time, his love would fade into resentment at having been stuck with claiming a child not of his own flesh. If she believed otherwise, she would cave and ruin his life. That wasn’t something she wanted to risk.

* * *

Seth slowedhis speed to a light jog after completing six miles, a little longer than his usual runs, but he needed to expend the extra energy on physical exertion, or he’d end up back in the ring for round two with The Beast. His ribs, knuckles, and jaw still ached from the previous encounter four days ago, the bathroom mirror telling him every morning and evening as he brushed his teeth what a fool he’d been to fight the other man. At least Brogan and Fallon hadn’t said much about his battered appearance when he’d shown up for work the following day.

The story Brogan had written about Maxwell Technology yanking its takeover offer after the arrest of the middle Topher sibling for Emily’s kidnapping had been picked up by the national papers, including one of Seth’s photographs from their interview. While the two men responsible for kidnapping him and Jetta had been caught, they had lawyered up and weren’t talking. Seth had mentioned Yasmine’s proximity to the kidnapper who had pulled a gun on him and that he’d thought she’d said something about getting the girl—meaning Jetta—but the detective said no evidence linked the youngest Topher with their kidnapping. Maybe he’d misunderstood.

In fact, the police were treating both abductions as being perpetrated by the same individual—Gene Topher, who had kept his mouth shut so far, according to Brogan’s sources. Seth’s texts to Leslie to inquire about FinCEN’s investigation had been unanswered beyond a cryptic “stay tuned” sent three days ago. Which meant he had no new information and no one to hash things out with, given Jetta’s unresponsiveness to his calls, messages, or texts. Emily had called asking if he would take Bingley for runs and walks, raising his hopes that Jetta would interact with him when he picked up and returned the dog. Those hopes fizzled when Emily texted the leash would be looped over the side gate handle and Bingley would be in the backyard for him to grab without bothering Jetta or the baby.

So he put a lot of mileage on his running shoes, pouring out his heart to God as he pounded out the miles with Bingley at his side. As if sensing Seth was thinking of him, the dog gave a soft woof as he spotted a squirrel racing up a tree near the sidewalk. He tightened his grip on the leash. “Don’t get any bright ideas about chasing after that squirrel.”

Bingley panted but didn’t reply. Seth dropped to a walk, bringing the dog to heel as they rounded the corner on their street. In front of Jetta’s house stood an unfamiliar vehicle, a white Lexus SUV, parked at the curb, no driver inside. Pain blossomed in his chest as he surmised the owner was visiting Jetta, who apparently allowed others into her life but not him. But he reminded himself sternly he had no right to her heart, no matter the kiss or words she shared during the stress of giving birth in the backseat of a car. He could not—he would not—hold her to promises made under those circumstances. Instead, he would honor her wishes for him to be on the periphery of her life and show his love for her by caring for her dog while she adjusted to motherhood.

Whether or not she noticed his contribution.

He slipped Bingley into her backyard, draping the leash over the outside handle of the gate, then headed to his house for a shower. Forty-five minutes later, he slathered butter on a baked potato to accompany the steak he’d broiled in the oven. He resisted the urge to check to see if the white SUV still sat in front of Jetta’s house. No good would come of spying on his pretty neighbor, even if he loved her. He ate in silence, both of his roommates out for the evening.

After cleaning up the dishes, he retreated to the dining room, where he’d set up an old door across two sawhorses. A black cloth covered the door, allowing him to arrange his photographs on its stark background. Might as well figure out which pictures to submit to an Arlington gallery for a potential spot in an upcoming show on local photographers. For the next couple of hours, he sorted through his collection, culling out the ones he thought might fit the show’s theme of “The Unexpected Shot.” He needed a dozen photos, although if chosen, only half of those would be on display—and for sale.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call as he selected his top twenty choices, and he answered without checking caller ID. “Hello?”

“Seth, it’s Leslie Updike.”

He straightened, his brain switching from photographs to fraud. “Tell me you have news.”

She laughed. “I have news. We got a lead on the identity of the person behind the embezzlement.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say yet, but we’ve managed to pinpoint some accounting crumbs that point directly to this person.”

“Does that mean this is an official investigation?”

“This is an official investigation. We have several forensic accountants working on unraveling the trail and delving into the finances of the suspected embezzler.”

“Thanks for the update.” He wasn’t sure it was much of an update, but at least it gave him an excuse to text Jetta. After saying goodbye to Leslie, he composed a quick text to Jetta with the update and hit send.

His phone buzzed, signaling an incoming text. He snatched it up only to bite back disappointment that Emily’s name flashed on the screen along with a message.

Have you heard any updates from your FinCEN contact?

Seth recounted what Leslie had told him, adding he’d texted the info to Jetta.

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