Gillian swallowed, the pain grabbing hold before she could blink. “I didn’t accuse him of anything. Do you think you can make the calls stop?”
“We need concrete proof. As much as this may sound bad, we can’t do anything without concrete evidence. I would suggest doing a pig-tail, get the proof we need, and then nail him to the wall.”
Gillian tensed when Jack leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs for a moment. She closed her eyes and huddled on the couch when he rose to walk across the room. She should never have gotten involved, never tried to have more than she had. If it wasn’t Mike, it was Barbara, and neither was willing to let her go.
“I recorded times and dates.” Jack handed over a piece of paper. “I don’t have the calls recorded, but since he’s at Drumheller Institute you should be able to at least narrow it down. Maybe they record the calls.”
“He’d have to have a cellular device. If he were making calls from the phones at the prison, he’d have been caught when he first started making them. Standard procedure is to record all outgoing prisoner calls. He’d know this and want to avoid getting caught. We checked, he is still incarcerated, so I’ll have to contact them and get them to do a search of his cell.”
Flinching with each word, Gillian kept her head bowed, fear and self-loathing washing over her like a tidal wave. Why couldn’t the couch just open up and swallow her whole? Why did Jack have to be so organized, so attuned? Didn’t he understand? Did none of them understand it was dangerous?
“I’ll look into it.” Rick leaned forward, setting his pad on the coffee table. “We have found out some information in regards to BMC Consulting. I’m afraid it’s not pleasant.”
Gillian shrugged. “None of this is.”
“BMC Consulting is owned by Barbara Meridian Clarke. It’s an umbrella company to a bank account, but doesn’t seem to be actually functional, yet has a steady revenue stream. We’ve gotten a production order for the bank records, and hopefully we can get some more details.”
Gillian swallowed hard, bile burning the back of her throat. She rose and darted for the bathroom, her stomach revolting at yet another betrayal. She clung to the cold porcelain as she retched into the bowl, her breath coming in harsh, gut-wrenching pants.
“Gilli? Baby? You okay?” Jack pushed past the partially open door and kneeled next to her. He grabbed a towel and ran it under the cold water before pressing it to her face. “Baby?”
“I hate her.” Gillian exhaled shakily. “I really, really do.”
“You mean Barbara?” Jack glanced behind him, a slight frown on his face before he turned back to her.
A harsh, cynical laugh exploded from her chest. “My mother.”
“You’re certain?”
“Meridian was her third husband’s name, Clarke was her maiden name. I’d be willing to bet she’s got a couple of other companies set up and is funneling the money through them.”
“You’d be correct.” Rick’s voice drifted in from the hallway. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
Struggling to her feet, her hand wrapped in Jack’s, she dragged her feet to the living room. Settled again on the couch, she listened to the officer continue speaking of what avenue they’d take in their investigation, her mind wandering. What else had her mother done? If she was willing to steal, willing to screw her boyfriend, what else could Barbara do that would be within the realm of possibility? Gillian shuddered to think of the answer.
Thankfully, Rick left a few minutes later. Gillian sat alone in the silence of the living room. Finally, she rose and padded into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. She’d need to get a hold of Doctor Reimer to set up a new appointment. What a joke. She didn’t need a therapist, she just needed a new life.
Hearing Jack, she glanced up. Her heart splintered at the rumpled, sexy look he wore as he gathered their cups from the living room. Threadbare jeans clung to his thighs and a worn old sweatshirt embraced his chest. Beneath the fabric she could see the play of muscles and it made her mouth water.
What would it hurt to sample what he was capable of giving her? Did it make her a bad person to want to have him make love to her? The urge to touch burned her palms. She clenched her fists as she turned away from him. She couldn’t stay here. Sooner or later he had to go back to work—he’d applied for a position with the second fire station—and she wasn’t going to sit around and mope. No, she had to find something else. Somewhere as far away as possible so Mike couldn’t touch him.
Why couldn’t I have stayed out of love? Why him? Gillian shivered as the answer whispered through her. Jack was the man of her dreams—sweet, caring, gentle, everything she’d never believed herself capable of having. And the longer she stayed with him, the more danger he was in.
“You look pensive.” Jack wrapped his arms around her waist.
Forcing a smile, Gillian eased out of his embrace and moved to get the milk from the fridge. “Just wondering when my life went to shit.”
“True, this is bad, but nothing we can’t handle, nothing we can’t fix. Right?” Like silken threads, pain wove through his voice.
“I don’t know.” Gillian blinked away tears. “My mother’s stealing hundreds of thousands of dollars from me. Money I didn’t even know existed until the other day. My ex has suddenly decided he needs to pop back up and threaten everything I hold dear. What’s next? A plot to kill me?”
Jack eyed her. “I don’t know, Gilli, but I do know this isn’t you. This isn’t the woman I know. You’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for.”
“How would you know?” Gillian
