Page 11 of One More Truth
Avery and Noah enter the living room. Avery comes over and hugs me.
Noah and Troy join our little group. Troy takes my hand, his grip warm and supportive. “Noah wants to talk to you for a moment.”
My breath stutters in my chest and my muscles go twitchy. “Okay?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.
“Troy can come too,” Noah says. “This also involves him.”
I nod, my curiosity overcoming my nervousness of being around Noah.Baby steps.I’ll eventually get there with him; it will just take time.
We go into the kitchen. Zara and Avery stay in the living room, though I’m sure they can overhear our conversation, if they really want to, from where they are sitting. The open concept design doesn’t give much privacy.
“Troy told me Cole Dunbar made a false police report about what happened Sunday night. It wasn’t a break and enter that caused your injuries.” Noah’s tone is warm and friendly, but the name causes my stomach to twist and churn.
“That’s right,” I reply.
“Troy also said the former chief of police assaulted you.” Noah’s voice doesn’t suggest he thinks I’m lying. He believes me.
“That’s right. He figured out Violet and Sophie were hiding in my house and confronted me.” I’d done a crappy job hiding evidence they were there. He’d found an empty box of toddler diapers in my recycle bin. “When I wouldn’t tell him where they were, he started punching and kicking me. He had Officer Dunbar fill in the police report and told me nothing would come of it.”
“I took her to the hospital to see Dr. Samuel Thompson,” Troy says, still holding my hand. “Samuel documented the injuries in case we need it for evidence later on.”
“That was smart thinking,” Noah replies. “Jess, I think you should go to the station and request to refile the report.”
The thought of stepping into the police station sends my heart pounding. My grip on Troy’s hand tightens. “Won’t I be charged for falsifying a police report?”
“Not when you were coerced by the former chief of police and a former police officer. And not when both have been charged with multiple counts related to the trafficking of assault rifles. Were there any witnesses who saw what happened or could collaborate your story?”
My grip slackens a tiny amount, but I keep holding Troy’s hand like it’s a lifeline. “Violet Wilson. She told her husband she wouldn’t leave him if he stopped hurting me. At that point, she was too scared to tell anyone what really happened. And now…and now, I can’t get a hold of her. It’s like she’s vanished.”
Noah glances at Avery and Zara on the couch, talking. “The FBI put her in witness protection. I don’t know much more beyond that.”
So, in the end, Violet’s in the same situation she would’ve been in if we had succeeded with the plan to get her and Sophie out of Oregon. She’s starting her life over again—pretty much like me. But this way she won’t be charged with kidnapping her daughter.
It also means I’ve lost a friend. A friend who partially understands what I’ve been through.
The doorbell rings. Zara looks over at us. Troy nods, and she heads for the foyer.
“I won’t be able to contact her, will I?” I ask Noah, suspecting I already know the answer.
“Unfortunately, no.” He leans back on the island. The dark-gray granite counter gleams in the overhead lighting. “I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, Jess. And for how the justice system failed you so many times. I can understand why being around cops makes you uneasy.”
My mouth curves into a wry smile. “You noticed that, huh?”
“It was hard to miss. But hey, if you ever need to talk to someone in the police department, let me know. If I can’t help you directly, I’ll still be there to help you one way or another.”
“Thanks,” I say softly, relieved to have an officer on my side for once. I don’t remember the last time that happened. If it has ever happened.
Kellan, Garrett, and Emily enter the living room. Jasper rushes in after them, signaling that Simone and Lucas are also here.
“I should probably let the dogs out so they have more room to play.” Troy glances at the two large energetic dogs and his small Cavapoo.
I laugh, the sound low in my throat. “Good idea. There’s too much puppy energy to contain in the living room. It’s nice out. Maybe we should play charades outside.” The sky is cloud free, the warm breeze light.
“Sounds like a solid plan.” Troy pulls me to him and kisses me on the brow. “You good?” he murmurs against the shell of my ear, his voice a sexy rumble that sends a wave of tingling skipping across my skin.
I swallow a moan. “I am. Now.”
He goes to the fridge to grab the beer and drinks. I collect the plates from the coffee table. Everyone helps to take the food outside and places it on the short table on the patio.
