born and raised here and is the son of a very good friend of mine. A police detective by the name of Max Jenkins. After an unfortunate divorce, Seth’s mother had the boy’s name changed.”
“I know Detective Jenkins.” The judge nodded. “He testified in this court many times. He’s a fine man and a good cop. Did he retire? Where is he these days?”
That name rushed from Jess’s past like a sudden and icy wind that stifled the breath deep in her throat. She was suddenly bombarded by ugly memories. Jess wanted to stand again—to stare into the face of Seth Harper, who’d kept so many secrets from her—but she didn’t think her legs would hold her. Salvatore kept talking, with Jess barely listening.
“Max is indeed a fine man, sir. And he would have been here today if he could.” Salvatore cleared his throat and glanced at Harper. “He’s not in the best of health. I believe the Danny Ray Millstone case took its toll on him. Seth is caring for his father at the Golden Palms Villa, a nursing home facility. So as you can see, this young man has deep connections and obligations to this community.”
The courtroom quieted as the judge’s face turned more somber. “I remember the Millstone case…all too clearly.”
The name Danny Ray Millstone hit Jess like a punch to the gut. She’d blocked that name out of her memory even though it lingered in the dark fringes of her mind.
With eyes still closed, she sat back and gripped her hands together, struggling to regain her composure. But as her heart pounded out of control, and a trickle of sweat crawled down her spine, she tried to breathe and found the air stifling and hot. In a rush, the images pummeled her psyche.
She was back there again. In short bursts of memory—like the stark flicker of a strobe light—she was back at the house on High Street. When she recognized the symptoms of a panic attack, she took deep breaths and forced herself to calm down and listen.
Finally, the resonating voice of Salvatore served as a lifeline to bring her back. And she was grateful.
“Quite frankly, if this young man didn’t already have an outstanding father, I’d proudly claim him as my son…if he’d lower his standards for parental material.” Salvatore had deftly changed the subject. And his remark drew a soft chuckle through the courtroom. Even the judge smirked.
“Seth is one of the most trustworthy people I know,” the man continued. “And he is no killer.”
“A nice guy who happened to brutally stab a young woman to death. Let’s not forget the victim here,” the assistant district attorney objected.
“And what about the bloodwork you did on Seth?” Harper’s wealthy advocate glared at Stacy Nichols and hit her with a roadblock she hadn’t seen coming, given the look on her face.
Before the woman had a chance to regain her composure, he added, “I believe you’re withholding the results of that tox screen to keep Seth in jail until you bolster your case.” The man directed his attention to the judge. “This boy was drugged, Your Honor. And Ms. Nichols knows that the bloodwork will cast the shadow of reasonable doubt on her case.”
“Is that true, Ms. Nichols?”
Surprises hit wave after wave. Salvatore had bluffed his way into making the ADA look bad on her own turf. And Jess had no doubt that Humphries had fed him the information he’d gotten from her. The bulletproof Ms. Nichols suddenly looked off her game.
“We ran an extensive tox screen, Your Honor, not the standard analysis. That takes time, and I don’t have the results. And I’m not required to share the findings until the preliminary hearing.”
“Obviously you suspected more than alcohol was at play here, Ms. Nichols, or else you wouldn’t have gotten a warrant to do the blood test in the first place. And the fact you didn’t settle for a standard screening speaks volumes.” The judge took a moment to consider his ruling before he said, “Bail is set for one million dollars.”
The judge assigned a date for Harper’s preliminary hearing and moved on to his next case. Harper was ushered from the courtroom, soon to be released if Salvatore had anything to do with raising bail.
But when Seth turned, he found Jess staring back, a look of shock still on her face. The secret he’d kept from her was now in the open—between the two of them. Harper’s father was the cop who had saved her life. And in the process, Detective Max Jenkins had killed the man who took her from her mother. A good thing in her mind, but in killing the man, Seth’s father had severed the only lifeline to her mother. She’d never found her. And in the wake of her rescue, nightmarish images remained to taint her childhood with dark memories of abuse and torture that no child should have had to endure.
Her skin prickled with Seth’s betrayal. Trust had never come easy for her, but his deception hurt far more than it should. He’d been a friend, or so she thought. Why had he kept his father’s identity from her? And why seek her out in the first place? She had far too many questions and needed time to think.
Jess wasn’t sure she could handle anything Seth had to say—not the way she felt now.
Near the courthouse
A bar had a way of stopping time, luring patrons with the promise of oblivion and dark anonymity. Danny’s Bar and Grill fit the bill and was conveniently located down the street from the courthouse. Utterly numb, Jess stared into a glass of single malt scotch, watching an ice cube melt and give way to gravity. She’d ordered the drink but only nursed it as she sat at the bar alone, losing track of time. Not even the jukebox music or the sounds of laughter from across the dark room had proved to be a distraction from her misery.
Her cell phone vibrated again, but she didn’t have to look to see who was calling. Seth Harper had collided with her life. Or perhaps in hindsight, she realized her life had derailed his—the chicken and the egg argument.
“Something wrong with the drink?” the young bartender asked as he wiped down the counter in front of her. “I can freshen it up for you.”
She smiled. If only life were that easy.
“No, I’m good. What do I owe you?” she asked. After he told her, she pulled cash from her pocket and tossed it onto the bar, leaving enough for a tip. “Thanks.”
She walked out the door into the dying light of day, squinting until she put on her shades. The bar had been a convenient place to take a break from her world and stop for a while, but her mind didn’t get the message. She pulled out her car keys and headed for the lot where she’d parked the van. She had good reason to wallow in pity like a pig in a mud bath, but she had better things to do.
Harper’s behavior had been highly influenced by his sphincter—no doubt—but the guy still needed her help.
Cook County Jail
The bail hearing for Seth Harper had ended and apparently not gone as planned for one man. Private investigator Luis Dante had been retained to report the outcome to an anonymous man he’d never even seen. Everything had been arranged by phone. He’d been hired with cash delivered by a courier service—an impressive retainer—and he only had the number of a disposable phone to contact his new client. He’d checked into the number when he first got the business, not wanting to be played for a chump. But in Luis’s world, money was money. And as long as he wasn’t breaking the law much, he figured his dealings were business opportunities.
When his client heard about the kid getting bail set, he was pissed. But the bail amount of a million smackers calmed him down until he told the man about the involvement of Anthony Salvatore. Then the shit hit the fan again, as if his client had never seen it coming.
“I figured you’d want me to stick with the kid. I’m outside county lockup now. He’s probably made bail already. But I gotta tell ya, it’s real ugly here.” He took a last drag off his cigarette and flicked the butt to the ground.
“What are you talking about?” the man asked.
“Media vultures are everywhere. They got crews with cameras staked out, waiting for Money Bags to show up for a photo op.”
A simple maneuver of following the kid turned complicated with news crews at the jailhouse. The added foot traffic made it hard to keep track of one scrawny kid.
“Just find me that kid, where he’s staying. I need an address, then you’re done.” He cleared his throat. “And like before, I’ll courier a bonus to you if you make it quick, like we talked about.”
“No problem. I’ll call you when I’ve got something.”
