Rene Gutteridge - Listen

Jill reached over and took her hand. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

Kay looked at her. “I’ve even judged you for how you dress. And I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

Jill laughed and squeezed her hand. “I know I dress like I’m eighteen. I guess I just felt Mike pulling away, imagining what pretty woman he was interested in, and I thought if I tried to make myself look younger, I might win his affection back.”

Kay slumped into her seat. “See? A person never knows another’s motivations. How could I sit there and judge you for a tight tank top and not know what you’re going through?”

Jill pulled into the large parking lot of the county jail, parked, and turned to Kay. “It’s okay, my friend. Right now, how I look in a tight tank top is the least of my worries.”

Kay stared at the building. It wasn’t as tall as she’d imagined. They got out of the car and walked through the front doors. An officer behind a large black desk greeted them. They signed their names, emptied their pockets, and were led through several gated corridors until they came to a room with plastic tables and chairs. The floors looked warped and smelled like cheap Pine-Sol. One yellow sign alerted them to the wetness on the floor. They both stepped carefully toward the nearest table.

They huddled together on the far side of the room so they faced the door, their knees bumping each other with any small movement.

Kay glanced around, noticing the cameras and monitors. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too.”

“How’s Natalie handling all this?” Kay asked, hoping to take her mind off the idea that she might very soon be staring into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

Jill shrugged. “Okay, I guess. She doesn’t talk about it much. Hates school. I don’t blame her. I don’t know how to help her.”

The sound of a large metal door opening, then shutting, caused the women to sit up straighter. Kay could hardly breathe. She wanted to seem calm and cool, but she was certain she was not looking anything of the sort.

A tall, thin shadow crossed over the hard concrete. But the man who followed the shadow wasn’t tall or thin. He was built much like Damien, with broad shoulders, a wide chest, and decent arm muscles.

Kay had seen his mug shot in the paper. He was clean shaven but looked disheveled in the picture, wild-eyed and scared.

This morning, though, even in an orange jumpsuit, Mike Toledo seemed pulled together as if he were wearing an expensive suit. He sat down with confidence, staring at Jill while acknowledging Kay with a small smile.

“This your lawyer?” he asked, a joking kind of smirk on his lips.

“This is my friend. I asked her to come with me.”

Kay expected protest, but Mike simply regarded Kay with unassuming eyes, as if pondering the reasoning but not questioning it. He then focused on Jill. “I’m glad you came. I wondered when you would.”

“Or if,” Jill said.

“Baby, you don’t think I did this, do you?”

Jill glanced at Kay, who could only widen her eyes with anticipation of the answer. “I don’t know what to think. I know you had an affair. Don’t even try to deny it. The police already told me that much.”

Mike looked down. “I did.”

“How could you? Especially after I forgave you for Cindy.”

“It was a mistake. A terrible mistake.”

Jill paused, pushing a tissue to the bottom of her nose. “I knew you were having an affair. I knew it. I even confronted you.”

“This woman meant nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

“And neither, apparently, did Frank Merret.” Kay knew it came out of her mouth, but it was as if someone else spoke. There was no mistaking it, though. Both Jill and Mike stared at her. She tried to hold his steady, piercing gaze without falter. It was taking every ounce of her courage.

Mike slowly returned his attention back to Jill. “I can’t discuss this. You know I can’t. My lawyer has advised me not to talk at all, to anyone. It only protects you. The less information you have, the better.” He leaned forward, his fingers touching the top of the table lightly. “How’s Natalie?”

“How do you think she is?” Jill’s tone was harsh enough that he pulled his cuffed hands off the table. “You’ve created a nightmare for us. And all you can think about are your legal rights?”

“I’m trying to think of all of us, trying to figure out things. I know this is a mess. But we’ll get through it.”

“There is no longer a ‘we.’ We are over.”

Mike glanced between the two women. Then his stare landed on Kay. “Is this your idea? Putting thoughts in her mind about leaving me?”

Kay’s breath caught in her throat.

Jill slapped her hand against the table. “This has nothing to do with her. This is between you and me, and I’m telling you that we’re done. Whether or not you killed that officer is up to the court to decide, but I’m not going through this anymore with you. We’re over.” She trembled from head to toe. Only Kay could see her hands, now tucked on her lap, shaking as if she’d plugged herself into an outlet. But the resolve in Jill’s eyes was undeniable. And apparently unusual, judging by Mike’s expression.

Suddenly, though, Mike’s startled eyes turned scathing; his hot gaze drifted back and forth between Jill and Kay. “Well,” he said, his voice smooth and calm, “I suppose when I get out of here after I’m proven innocent, we’ll have to all three get together again. Talk through the facts. Clear up any… misunderstandings.” He parked his stare on Kay. Then he grinned. “Right?”

Jill grabbed Kay’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“So soon?” he sneered.

Kay and Jill made their way around the table. Kay thought the protocol was that the prisoner left first, but they were already at the door, ringing the buzzer to be let out.

Mike turned in his seat. “Jill, wait. Please. Let’s talk. Just you and me. Why do you need her here anyway?”

“She’s my friend!” Jill barked, ringing the buzzer again. The door swung open, and a guard appeared in the doorway.

Mike’s menacing eyes followed them. “I wasn’t aware you had any friends.”

Kay took Jill by the shoulder and ushered her out the door, then glanced back.

Mike leaned against the back of the chair, raised both hands, and waved.

“Shut the door,” Edgar said.

Damien studied Captain Lou Grayson, who stood near Edgar’s desk. “Did you find any evidence linking Toledo to Frank’s murder?”

Grayson glanced at Edgar, who gave a slight nod. Damien thought they were both acting weird.

“This is off the record for right now,” Grayson said, “but yeah, we got the warrant, got in, and found some good stuff. But even better, our guys found a gun wrapped in a sack, thrown in a Dumpster about a mile from his house. We’re running tests for a match, but it looks promising. He was denied bail.” He urged Damien to sit. “But that’s not why we’re here.”

Damien sat down. There was something in the air that surpassed the typical office tension that accompanied a busy day.

Grayson reached down and pulled out a folder from a briefcase that leaned against Edgar’s desk. He dropped it onto the edge of the desk as if everyone should focus on it.

Instead Damien stared at Edgar, tried to read his face, but it remained expressionless. “What’s going on?”

Edgar cleared his throat. “Frank’s no longer on their radar for the Web site.”

Damien sucked in a relieved breath. He smiled, nodding, eager for more information.

Edgar’s attention drifted past Damien to Grayson.

“Damien, we’re going to just come out and say it. No beating around the bush,” Grayson said, his tone suddenly more formal. “We have reason to believe you’re the one behind the Web site.”